Ulrike tried the word out with a blank look. After a moment, her face shone and she nodded several times.

“Friend. Friend. Yes, it had been so long, I’d nearly forgotten. Though it is within my familiars, it is a concept that I, Yggdra, do not have.”

She still sounded old and formal, but Ulrike seemed to be genuinely pleased, and it made her look adorable.

“Let me speak anew, then. Here’s to a brighter future, my small friend.”

Ulrike took Yukinari’s outstretched hand in her own tiny fingers. He thought her skin felt a bit cold—but soft.

●

The bizarre screech filled the sky above the town.

It was high-pitched, like a bird’s cry—but it spoke human words. It had something of the quality of a ventriloquist’s voice, and someone who didn’t know better might have found it funny. But it belonged to a bird the size of a building, and there was nothing funny about it.

The birdlike demigod circled again and again in the sky over Friedland. It seemed to resent the pain Yukinari had caused it, and it had no intent of leaving until it found him. But Yukinari wasn’t in Friedland at that moment.

They could try to explain this to the giant bird, but there was no telling whether the demigod would understand. After all, it didn’t seem able to tell individual humans apart. It had even mistaken Fiona for Yukinari when she fired at it with Durandall.

The one silver lining was that this demigod seemed, surprisingly, to be weaker than it looked. Its size had suggested that it might just crush the human houses underfoot, but while it showed itself able to scatter some roof tiles and break some tree branches, it simply lacked the strength to destroy the sturdily built brick and stone houses. Perhaps it just had less body weight than first appeared—it was capable of flight, after all.

As long as everyone stayed inside, it didn’t look like anyone was going to get eaten. But then again, as things stood, they were at an impasse.

It was always possible the demigod might get impatient and try to force its way into one of the buildings. Most demigods were composed of a living organism that made up their “core” or nucleus, along with a collection of other animals that had been attracted by the core’s nascent divinity. These other animals were its familiars, and the spiritual link between all of them allowed them to act effectively as a single huge organism. By the same token, however, a demigod could release some of its familiars, on the understanding that it would lose some spirit and intelligence, in order to make itself smaller.

In other words, they couldn’t just stay inside and wait for the threat to pass. They had to call Yukinari back. He was the only one who could fight the demigod.

“Well, gosh, that sounds useful!” Fiona was saying. “You couldn’t have told me a little sooner?”

“Told you?” Arlen shot back. “Could you be any more selfish and arbitrary? As I recall, it was you and the Blue Angel who took all our tools from us to begin with!”

“Lady Fiona, Mr. Lansdowne... You’re both making a bit of a racket...”

The two stopped their bickering. Fiona was leading Berta and Arlen toward the town’s communal storehouse, moving from shadow to shadow so as not to be noticed by the demigod.

The storehouse had been built to hold the village’s crops and everything else they had in common, as well as goods that were bought in bulk from visiting merchants. It had plenty of space, so the weapons and equipment that had been confiscated from the missionary knights had been stored there as well. And according to Arlen, that equipment included something that would allow them to contact Yukinari.

Its original purpose had been to allow communications between the capital and units of the Missionary Order that had been sent to remote regions. In the past, messenger birds had been often used for this purpose, but a bird could always find itself picked off by a predator, including xenobeasts or demigods. So the birds had largely been replaced...

“Okay... We’re here,” Fiona said, leading them up to a back entrance. As soon as they were inside—meaning under a roof and away from immediate danger of being attacked by the demigod—Arlen stretched out his back and took on the haughty attitude Fiona knew so well.

“All right, start looking! We don’t have any time to lose! It’s a wooden box, about yea big, with red and white lettering on the side and—”

“Don’t you order us around!” Fiona said. “Anyway, you’re the one who should be looking!”

“I’ll be trying to find a vial of holy oil!”

They took up shouting at each other as they searched.

“Haven’t you already been in here? When you broke in to steal the weapons and armor?” She was referring to the weapon he had wielded during the fight with the demigod, one of the arms the knights had brought with them when they came to Friedland.

“I told you, Arnold and his sympathizer Bartok did that on their own—we just made use of what they left behind... Those weapons belonged to us in the first place, anyway! What’s wrong with taking back what’s already ours?!”

“You had to give them to Yukinari after he beat you, so they aren’t yours anymore!”

“U-Um, Lady Fiona...”

“What?!”

“I think I found it...” Berta pointed hesitantly to a box that looked just like Arlen had described: made of wood, with the name of the Harris Church written in red and white letters on the side along with the inscription “Messenger Bird.”

“This is it, right?” she asked.

“Right. A mechanical bird—just like the guardian saint, a product of the Church’s unparalleled craftsmen. It’s beyond even the imagining of you country rubes, moving with the help of the Church’s miraculous holy oil—”

“Why do you always have to be so high and mighty?” Fiona demanded, even as she opened the box. And indeed, inside rested a metal bird with a body of struts and cogs, and wings that seemed real. She took it gently in hand; it was lighter than it looked.

“Is this how you control it?” Several tuning forks were in the box with the bird.

“Don’t touch it!” Arlen exclaimed. “It’s delicate!” He grabbed the messenger bird from Fiona.

It appeared the device was controlled through the use of notes, and by attaching small vials of holy oil, one could determine the melody and create a series of actions for the bird to execute. In that respect, it was much the same as the statue of the guardian saint.

“Okay, Schillings, come here.” Arlen finished fiddling with the device and beckoned to Fiona.

“Well, do you want me not to touch it or do you want me to come help you?”

“I don’t want you to touch it. But with this messenger bird, you don’t write your message—you use your voice. You tell it your message, then it’ll go to its destination and repeat it.”

“You use your voice...?”

“Yes. Call the Blue Angel with your voice. It repeats a woman’s voice better. But it can’t remember much, so keep it simple.”

After a long pause, Fiona said, “Okay.” Arlen held the artificial bird out toward her, and Fiona spent a moment collecting her thoughts, deciding what to say. Then she took a deep breath.

●

Riding on Sleipnir, which had been returned to them, Yukinari and Dasa came back to the village of Rostruch—and to their surprise, found the townspeople greeting them en masse, heads bowed respectfully.

“I let them know that our misunderstanding has been resolved,” Ulrike, who had come with them, said with a hint of pride. Apparently, another familiar had been sent to the town to let everyone know that Yukinari and Dasa were not enemies of Yggdra, or of Rostruch.

The familiars acted as Yggdra’s intermediaries, and the erdgod was able to communicate with them from quite a distance. Because the people offered up as living sacrifices became familiars, there was no need for priests to mediate between the people and the god. If anything, the familiars filled that role.

If nothing else, it was certainly nice that the message had spread so quickly.

Yukinari and the others were shown directly to the mayor’s residence and taken to something like a parlor. Yukinari would be explaining for the second time why he had come to Rostruch. If he hadn’t run into the priests, they could have had this conversation long ago.

“Trade, you say?” the mayor asked, looking a bit surprised.

He was a short but broad-shouldered man just entering old age. His square jaw and large nose stood out in an honest-looking face; he seemed like someone who might have been more comfortable hoeing a field than sitting at a desk doing government work.

“It’s true that Rostruch is rather rich in crops,” he said, “but... We’ve had very little contact with the outside world. Forgive me for being blunt, but I’m not sure we have much to gain by trade.”

“I see...”

Certainly, Rostruch, which had the air of a hidden village, looked largely self-sufficient. This was part of what had contributed to its unique culture: not just people’s dress, but the architecture and even the religious rituals.

“I haven’t seen the whole town, so I can’t say for sure,” Yukinari said, watching the mayor closely. “But do you have enough medicine? Are there any doctors here?”

“I’m sorry...?”

“It looks like you guys mostly have traditional treatments...”

Medical science didn’t seem to have developed very far in Rostruch. The man they’d met in the seemingly abandoned building had gone blind because of an illness, and it wasn’t clear if it could have been prevented.

For example, there’s something called nyctalopia, or “night blindness,” which was known as far back as the Edo period in Japan. It’s a condition of the eyes in which vision is more limited than it should be in dark places. Most people’s eyes can get used to the dark, but those with night blindness are unable to do so.

Night blindness was supposed to be caused by a vitamin A deficiency. Folk wisdom in the Edo era held that one could stave off night blindness by eating eel, a common food in Japan and one rich in vitamin A. Did Rostruch have the same kind of knowledge?

This wasn’t the only such connection that could be made. It’s common for deficiencies in diet to develop in isolated societies. The result is illnesses relatively unique to that society, some of which can be fatal. A lack of vitamin A, for example, can lead not just to night blindness, but can stunt children’s growth and produce learning disabilities.

Of course, such problems can be resolved through long years of trial and error. But for better and for worse, Rostruch had the system of living sacrifices to provide relief. It was possible the people of the town had never developed the technologies that might allow them to cling to life.

And another thing...

“When someone is slowly wasting away, that’s one thing. But what about major, sudden injuries, like from a severe accident, or a fast-moving illness? Say the person won’t even last three days. Are there cases like that, where they aren’t in time to receive Yggdra’s salvation?”

“Well...” The mayor looked troubled. It seemed Yukinari was on the mark.

“Dasa was born blind,” Yukinari said, indicating the girl sitting beside him.

This seemed to take both Ulrike and the mayor by surprise.

“...What?”

“But that girl...”

“Yeah. She can see now. I cured her.”

The mayor went silent, studying Dasa. She must have found it a bit awkward, because she turned her head aside ever so slightly and pulled close to Yukinari.

“Now, I can’t cure everything, of course. But this isn’t just about medical science. You guys seem very ready to give up on people here. Maybe we’ve figured out how to solve that in Friedland. I’ll bet if we looked, we could find meaningful knowledge and products that we could exchange.”

He saw almost no tools made of metal in Rostruch. It was always possible that they were using stone tools, not even bronze ones. Metal objects might be very pricey. But for medicine, metal items would be indispensable: tools capable of delicate work, not liable to change shape or lose their edge in humidity or heat. They might not be dealing with surgical scalpels, but even suturing a wound required a needle.

“It’s possible...”

“I know people near death here consider it a joy and an honor to be offered to Yggdra. But if they could live instead, wouldn’t that be even better? And some people endure non-fatal illnesses and injuries. There’s a chance we could help them, too.”

The mayor said nothing, but looked to Ulrike as if to discover what Yggdra thought about this. But the familiar showed no particular reaction. The mayor sighed and said, “I grant that your suggestion is attractive in some ways. But if we do what you’re saying, then... Lord Yggdra’s power...”

He stumbled over his words a bit, but he was right. If the erdgod didn’t keep up its spiritual power and intelligence in some way, its consciousness would gradually spread thin and meld into the surrounding environment. Rostruch’s tradition of giving up its old and weak was not just a way of avoiding trouble, nor was it merely a useless superstition.

Ulrike, who had been silent, opened her mouth. “As to that point, though I know not precisely to what extent, I can maintain myself by eating captured xenobeasts and demigods.”

“But... Lord Yggdra...” The mayor looked distraught; no doubt he thought this wouldn’t be enough to support the erdgod.

Yggdra was a massive plant, and its influence was strong and wide-ranging. Its consciousness might thin out quicker than that of other erdgods.

“When Ulrike and I were first connected,” Ulrike began with a certain seriousness, “her head was full of the wish to see her mother or her father, and how lonely she was without them. She had come to the mountains in the first place because she wished to feed them mushroom soup. Before, when I was only a tree, I did not understand such feelings. But after watching over you, my offspring, for so long, and after being offered many sacrifices, I believe I understand, roughly.”

She gave a gentle smile. She looked like such a young girl, but the smile was almost like that of a mother. “If there is a way for you to survive, try it. The desire to avoid death is common to all living things—to the beasts and the birds, yes, even the grass and the trees. There is no need to defy your own emotions out of consideration for me. When one of you feels they have had their fill of life, then let them come to me.”

Ulrike stretched slightly to pat the mayor on the head. The impression was of a ten-year-old girl comforting her father, or even grandfather, and watching the scene, it was strangely difficult not to smile.

“Lord Yggdra...”

“On that note,” Yukinari said, glancing at Dasa, “it’s possible you might not need living sacrifices at all.”

“...What do you speak of?”

It was Dasa who answered. “Holy... oil. What the Harris Church... uses... for their ‘miracles.’”

“Miracles...?”

“A liquid... produced by alchemy. It can store up heat and power. Including spiritual power. At least... that was its original... purpose.”

Dasa, who had been an assistant to her alchemist sister despite being blind, was in a better position than Yukinari to offer a simple and accurate explanation of this subject.

“At the Great... Cathedral of the True Church of Harris, they circulate... holy oil to capture the spiritual power of the... believers’ prayers. The oil can also be used... to perform various ‘miracles.’”

To the average believer, who knew nothing of any of this, it seemed miraculous that something like the statue of the guardian saint could move. And it was furthermore amazing that the devices were driven by a red liquid that looked like blood.

“Demigods and xenobeasts want to eat humans... eat their brains... because of the wealth of spiritual power there. Spiritual power is the basis of intelligence, and humans have more of it than any other creature. Call us the top of the spiritual food chain. By... using the medium of prayer to gather spiritual power from people, and... holy oil to hold it, it’s possible to store up... spiritual power for use at another time...”

Suddenly, Dasa stopped, blinking as if she had just realized something. “...You understand?”

“Eh, more or less,” Yukinari said with a half-smile. He glanced at the mayor and Ulrike—or rather, Yggdra—who both nodded.

The mayor said, “So... Instead of offering living sacrifices, we could offer our prayers, and then use the holy oil...”

“As a substitute, yes.” Dasa nodded. “As long as we have the ingredients, I can make... holy oil. Yuki can... too. We can also teach... anyone who wants to learn. Though we’ll need... tools.”

The mayor made a sound of wonder.

Tradition is an important link between the present and the past, but keeping to it too slavishly can prevent the introduction of new ideas. Because the system of living sacrifices had never been a real issue over the course of hundreds of years, the people of Rostruch had never considered replacing it with something else.

“We’re not saying you need to change everything right away,” Yukinari said, feeling relieved that things seemed to be going well. “But it might be good to have some options available.”

What types of goods the two towns might trade, including holy oil, was something they would have to work out in more detail. But since Rostruch seemed open to the idea, Friedland stood to become a more prosperous place. Then, maybe the Friedlanders would feel they had enough excess to support the children at the orphanage.

“Now that I think of it,” Ulrike said, “there were those priests and knights from Friedland...”

“...Er...” Yukinari and Dasa were suddenly reminded of the people who had gotten them into this mess to begin with.

“The question remains of what to do with them,” the familiar said. “There is no doubt they deceived me. But they came to Rostruch despite attacks by xenobeasts that ate several of their companions. They must have had a reason for doing so. I cannot say they deserve death, but neither can they be left alone.”

“I suspect—”

Yukinari was about to explain what he thought they were there for when they were interrupted by a sound as loud as thunder:

Yuuuukiiiinaaaaaaariiiiii!

They all jumped at the noise, which called Yukinari’s name from directly overhead.

Heeeellllllllpppp uuuuuussssss!

“Wh-What the hell?!”

“A sound from outside, it would seem.”

“I think it came from over here.” The mayor walked to the window and opened the shutter. Yukinari and Dasa thanked him, then rushed over to look out.

“Yuki, there.” Dasa pointed to the sky. Something white flew through the cloudless blue. It was flapping its wings like a bird, but he had never heard of a bird that could shout “Yukinari, help us!” loudly enough to be heard all over Rostruch. And although the voice had been somewhat distorted—by the volume or the altitude, he wasn’t sure—it had sounded an awful lot like Fiona’s.

The bird, or whatever it was, circled in the sky over the town, repeating “Yukinari”—“help us”—“the demigod from earlier...”

“The demigod? No way...”

She couldn’t mean the four-winged monster. Yukinari had left it on the brink of death, but just as Dasa had said, it didn’t seem to have left any particular impression in that bird-like head. Or maybe it wanted revenge, or a rematch with Yukinari. Whatever the reason, it had attacked Friedland.

He didn’t know how quickly the birdlike object could fly, but it was unlikely that it could transport itself instantaneously from Friedland to Rostruch. That meant a fair amount of time had probably passed since the town had been attacked.

“Right when I leave for a few days...!”

He’d left three Durandalls and about a hundred bullets behind, and while that might have been one thing against a normal land-bound demigod, the short-range pistol rounds Durandall used would be much harder to aim at an enemy that could fly in the sky. All the worse if the person with the gun wasn’t used to shooting. Meaning...

“Damn! It’ll take at least half a day to get back, even on Sleipnir!”

Who knew if Fiona and the others could hold out that long? In the worst-case scenario, it was even possible the demigod had already wreaked havoc on Friedland. People might be dead—dozens, hundreds.

“We’ve got to get home as quick as we can,” Yukinari said, his voice starting to strain with panic. He was about to dash from the mayor’s house when someone took his hand.

“Ulrike...?” It was Yggdra’s familiar who had reached out to him.

“I do not understand exactly what’s going on, but I gather you must return to Friedland with haste, correct?”

“Yeah, I—”

“Then I may be able to lend you my aid.”

“Huh...?” Yukinari furrowed his brow.

What could Ulrike—no, Yggdra—do to help him get back to Friedland faster? Yggdra was a giant tree who couldn’t go anywhere at any speed. And while Ulrike and the other familiars had stupendous mobility, that was all they had.

“Come,” Ulrike said. “I shall explain on the way.”

●

Seeing the thing up close brought home how absurdly large it was. Yggdra was a gigantic tree, and her control extended to almost all the vegetation in the area. If necessary, she could even accelerate the breakdown of cells in order to rebuild plants in another place or in the required shape.

Perhaps what was happening now was an application of that ability.

Two huge trees—smaller than Yggdra, but appearing centuries old nonetheless—shot out thick branches from which dangled a vine large enough to be a rope. And on that rope—no, that vine—all the familiars were pulling.

The familiars had human form, but their strength exceeded that of a person. It was a wonder the branches supporting the vine didn’t break; the vine itself could be heard creaking. It was basically...

“A slingshot? No, more like a bow...”

Even Yukinari was wide-eyed. The apparatus was like a bow, but dozens of times the size of any bow any human had ever used.

“Yes,” said Ulrike, “so it is. But it does not shoot arrows.”

“You mean to launch me out of this thing all the way back to Friedland.”

“I do.” She nodded and smiled. She had the look of a child who had thought up a fun prank—and in fact, if Yggdra was to be believed, this might really be the personality of the girl Ulrike showing through.

“You’ve gotta be nuts...”

“This from the man who thought he would simply blow away a mountain.”

“Well, you’ve got me there.”

Yukinari had already turned the gunpowder under Yggdra’s mountain back into earth. Although given how damp the area was, it probably wouldn’t have exploded even if he’d just left it there.

“The form you assumed in our battle—it had a beautiful set of wings. I don’t suppose they’re only for decoration?”

“I don’t know if I’d call them decoration, but they’re not exactly made for flapping...”

The real purpose of the wings was to help disperse the huge amounts of waste heat that could quickly be generated by physical reconstitution. This was why everything around Yukinari seemed to be enveloped in a haze when he assumed the form of the Bluesteel Blasphemer.

“But you can move them of your own volition.” For gliding, at least, they would probably fit the bill. “That is all you need do. Now, then—Yukinari.”

Ulrike indicated the vine that the other familiars were pulling on. To his surprise, Yukinari saw that the half-globe he had created to protect Dasa was already attached to it. That was what they would use to hold him.

“Young girl. Dasa, is it not?” Ulrike, who herself looked hardly older than ten, turned to Dasa, who stood beside Yukinari. “You should remain here. This will prove dangerous for a normal person.”

“I... won’t,” she replied immediately. This response seemed to flummox even Ulrike.

“H-Hang on a second, Dasa. I know how you feel, but—”

“Yuki.” Dasa held fast to his sleeve and shook her head. “I won’t let you... go alone.”

“But—”

“I’m on your... side, remember.”

Yukinari said nothing.

“I’ll always be... with you.” And then she stretched out her hand and touched his cheek. “I’ll go... anywhere with you. Otherwise, I... can’t be there for you, Yuki.”

“......All right.” He heaved a sigh, gave a small shrug. “She can be pretty stubborn. And I don’t have time to try to talk her out of it right now. I’ll take responsibility for whatever happens—so send the two of us together.”

“So I shall. Only be careful not to drop your cherished ally.”

“Sure thing.”

Ulrike nodded, and Yukinari focused his consciousness. A bluish-white light enveloped him, melding with the black that rose up to cover him. Soon his body was encased in blue and black armor, and then his wings emerged, looking like they were made of pieces of glass.

“Here goes.” Yukinari took Dasa in his arms and then climbed into the half-globe. Dasa, for her part, wrapped her arms around his neck. And then...

“Fire.”

There was no countdown, just that single word. The next instant, the familiars let go all at once, the vine propelling Yukinari and Dasa into the air with tremendous force.

Yukinari’s vision dimmed, presumably the result of all the fluids in his body—especially his head—being forced into his lower body by the acceleration. He was blacking out—or in this case, graying out. It was the sort of thing fighter pilots experienced at 3 or 4 g.

“Hrgg... gg...” In his arms, Dasa groaned with the pain of it. He couldn’t blame her—Dasa had never so much as ridden in an airplane, let alone been flung through the sky. They had no windscreen, and in fact, they were very lucky they hadn’t fainted clean away.

It’s all right. We’re all right...

He couldn’t say the words as they flew, so he hugged Dasa tighter instead.

And then, when he judged they had gone as high as they could, Yukinari spread his angel wings. Man-made wings that sparkled in the sunlight as he drifted on the wind. He and Dasa danced through the air; they could see everything spread out below them. Yukinari caught a tailwind and steered them toward Friedland. He did everything he could to control their descent, his wings jingling and groaning.

“...We’re going to make it.” He hugged Dasa tighter still as the conviction welled up within him. The Bluesteel Blasphemer glided through the sky, heading for where Friedland waited to be rescued.

●

There was a screech, and the wall of the building caved in. The birdlike demigod had finally gotten tired of waiting. Enraged at being unable to find Yukinari, it began attacking any structure within reach.

As strong as it was, its birdlike body was light, meaning the demigod didn’t have the power to destroy the sturdy brick and stone buildings. But wooden doors and shutters were vulnerable, especially around their hinges. The demigod seemed to have figured this out.

It stuck its head into a broken window. “Brains! GIVE ME your brains! I shall eAt thEM, and grOw stroNger...!”

The townspeople had followed Fiona’s evacuation order. They’d thought they were safe inside the buildings. Now they screamed and fled to inner rooms. The giant beak pecked away, seeming large enough to swallow a child whole, and all anyone could do was tremble at the sparks.

And then...

“Brains! Braaains, slurp slurp! EaT ThEM, groW smaRTer...!”

Suddenly, the silhouette of the face in the window seemed to shudder, and then several more monstrous birds, considerably smaller than the demigod, sprang from its head. They ranged from hawks and falcons, large birds of prey, to smaller avians—with a shiver, they separated from the demigod’s head and entered the room.

Familiars.

A demigod’s body was formed from a core whose divinity attracted other creatures, which then became spiritually bound to it. It was like a whole flock moving as a single organism. If it wanted, the demigod could command its familiars as if they were arms or legs.

In a panic, the townspeople tried to shut their doors and go farther into their houses, but even interiors were no longer really safe. Houses or shops with basements might still manage, but hiding in a wooden shed would be no use. Not with the demigod breaking off pieces of itself, sending its familiars through doors and windows and cracks in walls.

“Over here...!”

Berta had been slow to run. Or more precisely, she had been gathering up the orphans, who had been wandering around with no idea where to go, and now they were crouching in a half-wrecked shed. It was only a matter of time.

Just across the way, she could see a tough-looking brick storehouse. On the floor just past the entrance was a way into the basement. If they could just get over there, they would be saved—probably. But she could also see the demigod’s familiars coming toward them.

By herself, she might have made it, but running with two or three of her “little sisters” in tow would be impossible.

“Big Sis Berta, I’m so scared...”

She patted the little girl who clung to her on the back. “It’s all right. I’ll stay with you.”

“Are we going to be eaten? Is that bird gonna eat us?”

“That’s not the honored erdgod, is it?”

Berta bit her lip. The girls at the orphanage had been indoctrinated by the priests to believe that being offered to the erdgod was an honor, so they had comparatively little fear of being eaten by the deity. But by the same token, this meant that if some other creature got to them first, it could undo their whole reason for living.

“Big Sis Berta...”

The time for assurances had passed. The demigod and its familiars would notice them soon. Berta had fled here in such a hurry that she had left behind the Durandall Yukinari had given her. Not that she would have really known how to use it if she’d had it.

In the end, she was just a helpless little girl. Still no use to anyone. Still not fit for anything but to be eaten by a god.

In that case...

“Listen.” Berta pried the girls off her one by one and looked each of them in the face. “You see the brick building over there? When I say ‘run,’ you run to it as fast as you can. There’s a big square door just inside, kind of a lid. Open it, and go in. If you fall, don’t cry, just get up and keep running. You understand? Can you do that?”

None of the girls said anything, but as Berta looked at each of them, they nodded at her with fearful faces.

“Okay, then. Here we go.”

Berta stepped away from her little sisters and looked down the street from the shadows of the rubble. There was the demigod, many of its familiars alongside, heading right for them.

“Run!”

As she shouted the order, Berta began walking toward the demigod and its pack of familiars. She held her arms out so they could see her clearly, as if to say, Here I am!

If she deliberately went to the demigod, it would eat her first; that would buy them some time.

Or so she’d thought.

To Berta’s astonishment, several of the familiars flew past her at high speed.

“Wait! Huh...?”

Before she could stop herself, Berta spun around to see where the creatures were going, and she realized her own stupidity.

The girls were running, just as she’d told them to do. One fell down, but instead of crying, she got up again. But the motion had actually drawn the attention of the sharp-eyed demigod and its familiars.

Birds can catch bugs in their beaks in midair, or pick out prey on the ground while flying at high speed. When it comes to spotting moving objects, their vision is vastly superior to a human’s. If something attempts to run away, a bird will go for it almost instinctively.

“No...! Stop...!”

Several of the familiars were homing in on the girl who had fallen. Even at a run, Berta wouldn’t reach her in time.

At the same moment, she heard the demigod screeching behind her. “Grey matter! I shAll sip sip sip iT!”

The whole area was thrown into shadow. She realized she was directly beneath the demigod.

There was no hope anymore. Not for her sisters. Not for her.

But just as Berta was about to give in to despair...

A gunshot.

“You moron! Run already!”

There was Fiona, leaning halfway out of the open door of the storehouse, brandishing Durandall.

Of course, she had had no more training with the weapon than Berta; her chances of hitting the flying demigod or its familiars were vanishingly small. Fiona worked the lever and fired again, but there was no sign that she’d hit anything.

“Screee?!”

“Gyaaa!”

But the quailing of the familiars was obvious even to Berta. They remembered. They remembered the pain Yukinari’s gun had inflicted on them when they had been part of the demigod’s body. The familiars knew that when the humans used that thunderclap-loud device, they could be hurt.

And then—

“You all truly are useless, aren’t you!”

To Berta’s surprise, Arlen came jumping out past Fiona. He wore no armor and carried no spear, but instead he, too, had a Durandall in hand. He dashed for Berta’s little sisters.

“You little country shits are trouble! Did you even think about what would happen when you ran out here?!”

Berta watched, amazed, as he all but flung them into the storehouse. He didn’t exactly throw them so much as sort of slide them, but what Berta saw was her little sisters giving a shout as they bounced once and then rolled into the storehouse.

Knights were used to wearing full body armor and carrying long spears and heavy shields; it wasn’t a difficult matter for one of them to pitch a few undernourished little girls into a doorway.

“I, Arlen Lansdowne, a knight of the Missionary Order, will be more than a match for some familiars!”

He leaped at the enemies, using Durandall to cut them down. “Don’t just stand there, girl!” he shouted. “Run!”

“Berta!”

Arlen’s and Fiona’s voices brought her back to herself.

“Brains!”

But as she made to run, Berta was thrown to the ground by a powerful gust of wind that struck her on the back. The demigod above must have given one great flap of its wings.

“Ow...”

She landed faceup, staring into the sky. A massive body hung above her, like a lid over the heavens. Slowly, so slowly, it descended. Several familiars surrounded it. The massive talons that were its weapons stretched toward Berta’s head...

“Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!”

The next second, Berta couldn’t see the demigod anymore. A trailing scream cast it out of the way.

“...Huh?” she asked dumbly.

It wasn’t only the demigod she’d lost track of; its familiars were also flopping around on the ground. Perhaps things that happened to the main body had an effect on the familiars as well.

The demigod let out a bellow of rage. “Graaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!” It tumbled through the air as if it had been struck with a giant steel staff, colliding with a nearby building. The demigod wobbled back through the sky, shedding feathers, blood, and the bodies of destroyed familiars.

“L... Lord Y-Yukinari...?”

She could see him on the demigod’s back. A weird knight in blue and black armor, with wings of dark crystal.

The one she worshipped. Friedland’s protector god.

“The Blue Angel...!”

“Yukinari!”

Arlen and Fiona sounded as surprised as Berta.

They could make out Dasa up there with Yukinari atop the demigod. The two of them had something like a dark-gray rope, which they had wrapped around the demigod’s huge body and were twisting tight.

“Graaaaahhhhhh!”

The demigod struggled, trying to throw off Yukinari and Dasa, but they held tight to the rope and were never in danger of falling off. Instead, there was another roar from their guns, and more blood and feathers and familiars fell from the monster.

“Lord Yukinari is—!”

“The honored erdgod has returned!”

Perhaps drawn by the demigod’s scream, people were looking out from doors and windows. Several missionaries also appeared, weapons in hand. They had known they couldn’t stand against the demigod, but the familiars that came plummeting down? Those they could handle.

“Stay alert, one blow could be the end of you!”

“As if a few familiars could—!”

The knights had come to Friedland as invaders, but just as Arlen had said, they were always enemies of erdgods, demigods, and xenobeasts. The people of Friedland were potential converts, future believers. It was practically the knights’ duty to fight in this battle.

“Lord Yukinari...!”

Berta sat up, looking at the savior who had single-handedly turned the tide. How many times had he now saved her when she had been on the cusp of death?

“Oh...”

How foolish she was. She belonged to Yukinari, and yet she had been about to offer herself up to the demigod of her own volition. Yes, she had been trying to save her little sisters from the orphanage. But didn’t it also show her failure to trust Yukinari? She should have had faith, to the last moment, that he would arrive and save them. She was his, a shrine maiden whose first duty was to serve him.

“My... Our... god.”

A fate too awful for humans to bear is called despair. And one who can lift humans out of despair, they call a god.

Hope is the light that cuts through the frozen darkness of wretchedness.

The black and blue armor, almost dizzying to behold, looked to Berta like the shining of hope itself.

●

“You sonuva—!” Yukinari pulled hard on the wire as he fired Durandall. “This time I’m gonna turn you into roast chicken for real, so just—die—already!”

But the unsteady footing meant his bullets had no hope of reaching the core, the kill shot. Yukinari, still holding Dasa under his left arm, bounced on the demigod’s back like he was at some sort of otherworldly rodeo.

“Dasa, are you okay?”

“I’m o...kay...!”

After Yggdra had launched them into the air, they’d flown clear to Friedland, where Yukinari had spotted the demigod attacking the town and delivered a body blow on the way down. Once it had figured out that it only needed two wings to control its position in the air, the demigod seemed to get distracted by something on the ground.

Yukinari also succeeded at using physical reconstitution to create the metal wire. But that was when the problems started.

“Where’s its core? It’s not in its head...!”

During their previous battle, Yukinari had worked on the assumption that the core was located in the demigod’s head, but that had clearly been a mistake. That was how the creature had escaped right when he’d thought it was dead.

The demigod was also unmistakably larger than before. Presumably, after it had fled, it had attacked humans, or at least other demigods and xenobeasts, increasing its spiritual power and attracting more birds and animals as familiars. It was possible that someone somewhere had become its victim, all because Yukinari failed to finish it off last time.

All the more reason to find the core now.

But where was it? Even Durandall lacked the power to pierce all the way through the massive body, and a “cannon” like the one he had used against the statue of the guardian saint would be for nothing if he mistook the location of the crucial shot. He didn’t have it in him to make more than one of something that large in quick succession.

“Maybe I could use physical reconstitution to break up its body a bit?”

“Yuki—don’t get distracted,” Dasa said, firing Red Chili repeatedly from where he held her under his arm. Her shots took down a familiar that had detached itself from the demigod’s body and tried to attack them.

“I know that!” He used Durandall to cut down an attacker here, shoot one there. But he still couldn’t figure out where his real goal, the core, was. Of course, it wasn’t impossible to just go on chipping away at the demigod’s body like this...

“Gyyyahhhh!”

The monster howled with frustration. It seemed to be starting to panic at its inability to shake off its tormentors.

“YoU! yOu! ImpERTinenT earth-CrawlErs!”

“Strong words from a birdbrain like you,” Yukinari said, giving the wire another tug. “You lost the minute we got this wire on you. You can’t fly away, and with your body, you can’t exactly reach up to scratch where it itches, can you? You’ll never get rid of us.”

“Graahh...” The demigod gave a low moan, and in the next instant:

“YOU daMNable fools!!”

The wire sank deep into the massive body. It hadn’t bitten into the flesh—it was being passed through.

“Yuki...!”

Yukinari didn’t reply; he and Dasa were thrown through the air.

The demigod had been able to pass the wire through its body by temporarily detaching familiars from itself and turning them back into a flock of birds. Perhaps it had gotten the idea when Yukinari had said “get rid of us.” Whatever bizarre forms they might take, gods were gods; they were more intelligent than regular birds and animals.

“Fall To Your Doom!” the demigod—or rather, the flock of strange birds—cackled in midair.

It was only an instant later that a gunshot rang out in the direction of the flock.

“I knew you were a birdbrain,” Yukinari laughed as he plummeted down. “Revealing your own weak point!”

Shocked, the demigod rushed to recompose itself, but Dasa fired one round after another from Red Chili, taking down members of its flock. Finally, the core in the center of the great mass was visible. Yukinari pointed Durandall at it, and the weapon belched flame.

“Graaahh...!”

The core bird took a direct hit from a .44 Magnum bullet and plunged out of the sky.

“Hrk!”

In contrast, Yukinari opened his wings to blunt the speed of their descent. Even with Dasa in his arms, he somehow managed to land on his feet. The impact produced a crater almost two meters deep, but miraculously didn’t break his legs.

“...Gah!” he gasped. “Ten meters is a long drop, even with a reinforced body.” He let Dasa down and rose up.

He had used his wings to kill their downward velocity, but of course, this was only possible because he was in the form of the Bluesteel Blasphemer. If this had happened to any normal person, even if they had managed to land on their feet, every bone in their lower body would have been instantly vaporized.

“Graahh...”

A lone crow lay on the ground just in front of Yukinari. This must have been the core of that demigod. It looked basically like any other crow, but its eyes were too large, more like those of a human, and its beak looked almost like a pair of lips. Its head was a disturbing shape, like a half-formed human cranium.

“Here I thought you’d be a bird of prey,” Yukinari said, hefting Durandall. “But you’re just some crow. Enjoyed yourself in my garden? Well, the fun’s over now.”

“Grah!”

The first gunshot had entirely broken its spiritual connection with its familiars—all the other birds had returned to their normal bodies and scattered, making no effort to protect the core.

“See you in hell,” Yukinari said, and pulled the trigger.

Explosive gases propelled the bullet—a soft-point hunting round—down the barrel. The .44 Magnum round entered the body of the bizarre bird faster than the speed of sound, and all that kinetic energy had nowhere to go but through the creature’s flesh. The core was sent flying, torn clean in two, leaving only a cloud of black feathers.

“They say crows are smart,” Yukinari muttered, “but I guess when they get too smart, they turn ugly.” Then he and Dasa looked over their shoulders.

Berta and Fiona had come running up and were there. Behind them, the townspeople were looking at Yukinari in a sort of befuddled astonishment. He saw Arlen and some of the other knights, too, carrying weapons.

As far as he could see, there were no dead townspeople around. Small blessings.

“Oh...!”

“Lord Yukinari...”

Some who saw him fell to their knees in prayer. Others raised shouts of acclamation. Still others simply wept to know they were alive. Everyone had a different reaction.

“I... I guess we made it in time, huh?”

“...Mn.”

That single syllable, a sigh, and a nod were Dasa’s answer.