Chapter 3
AS THE BATTLE SPED toward its inevitable conclusion, the skeleton spewed even more black mist from its body and rampaged wildly.
Mira put some distance between them, and the Wise Popot hovered outside its range while it watched for an opening. But Garm was still locked in battle with the foe.
Now that it had lost the sword, the skeleton’s movements were simple and therefore easy for Garm to fend off. When it screeched and punched out one arm, it caught nothing but air. Soon, Garm’s powerful claw-strike had knocked the boney thing to the ground.
Its vacant eyes beheld the fallen holy sword nestled amid the greenery. The dark gleam shone for a mere instant, but it was enough to set the skeleton single-mindedly clawing for the sword. It was drawn to it like an addict.
Alraune’s vines wrapped around the weapon before their foe could snatch it away. They drew the sword deeper into the foliage to hide the object of the skeleton’s desire. Yet the enemy still searched for the holy sword, running around defenselessly before Garm.
Garm’s tail was enveloped in flames, a raging beam of crimson that swept toward the skeleton. The wolf whipped around, using momentum to perform a vicious attack that sent embers flying throughout the air. The skeleton was launched gloriously away, smashing into the back of the chapel hard enough to crack the wall and shake the building.
“Oho! Now there’s a powerful blow,” Mira cheered in admiration, patting Garm’s snout as the skeleton slumped over. Garm woofed happily and wagged its fire-covered tail. “There, there. I understand you’re happy. Please calm down.”
Mira brushed away the embers and turned her attention back to the skeleton. The firelight brilliantly illuminating the chapel had dissipated. Calm ruled the building for a moment.
There was a dry, rasping sound. The skeleton stood up.
Even after that ultimate technique combining the explosive power of fire and Garm’s raw strength, it still lived. But now, as it moved, its skull rattled. There were cracks all over its torso; it had clearly taken serious damage.
Mira turned and confirmed the location of the vine-covered holy sword, then looked toward the skeleton again. She sighed before taking a step forward.
“You seem awfully tough. But now that I don’t need to worry about the sword, there’s no sense in holding back.”
Garm and the Wise Popot backed as far away as they could. The green surrounding them writhed, and dozens of vines extended from below, wrapping and restraining the skeleton before it could charge again. Their foe groaned and struggled, tearing at the vines. But it had suffered too many wounds; this was an impossible task. It left a fatal opening in its defense.
Mira slowly pointed her fist toward the skeleton. The Bound Arcana appeared and shifted to the Mark of the Rosary. This was the preparation for advanced summoning…but there was something slightly different about this one.
Luster of the vast seas, primordial flames that lap at the sky.
Beating eternal, breathing ceaseless.
When a thousand skies are imbued, let dawn shine again!
[Spiritual Evocation: Cherubim Heart]
Spiritual Evocation allowed humans to use the enormous power of a greater spirit, something far beyond human capacities, just once per battle. Responding to the incantation, the summoning circle grew brighter and shone red with spewing crimson fire. The fire swirled as if alive, coalescing into a human form. This form, created by Mira’s mana, was made to be inhabited by the greater fire spirit Demiurge.
The figure made of fire looked straight ahead, mimicking Mira’s motions, and raised its crimson arm toward the skeleton. An incandescent fireball enveloped the skeleton like a miniature sun, burning so hot it shifted from red to white. As it burned, it sounded like a furious windstorm and gave off a harsh light, yet the heat didn’t touch anyone else in the room.
[Spiritual Evocation: Cherubim Heart]’s effect only engulfed a specified area in flame. The smaller the area, the more powerful the effect. Nothing else would be burned. Mira specified the minimum size and therefore maximum power.
When the dazzling light finally faded, the area formerly covered with lush greenery held only a circle of scorch marks and the stench of burned bone. Even the skeleton’s spirit-devouring curse was no match for the power of the sun. Only scattered black ashes and a dissipating black mist remained after their foe was burned with such overwhelming heat.
Mira smiled in satisfaction. “Hah. Couldn’t handle that, now, could you?”
She and her summons had won. Garm roared victoriously, and the Wise Popot perched on her shoulder to pester her for praise. Alraune leaned against Mira’s chest lovingly.
“Indeed, you’ve all done a wonderful job.” Mira complimented them and dismissed them one by one. To each she said, “Well done.” Garm howled proudly, Wise Popot spread its wings happily, and Alraune wriggled bashfully as it was dismissed.
As the greenery around them disappeared like a fading illusion, Wasranvel and Anrutine descended. They stood shoulder to shoulder in front of Mira and bowed deeply with the biggest of smiles.
“Thank you so much for helping us get our friend back.”
“We can’t thank you enough.”
“Thanks are unnecessary,” Mira replied with a smile. “Go to your friend now.” She gestured with her eyes to the holy sword lying in the chapel corner. Now was a time for joy.
“San! San!” Anrutine cradled the sword carefully in her arms.
Wasranvel put a hand gently on the hilt and called to her, “Sanctia! You’re gonna be okay!”
The change began gradually. Particles of light drifted up, as if the sword was breathing softly as it woke from sleep. Then, the holy sword began to tremble, and the light particles became dazzlingly bright. In the next moment, a woman stood next to the sword as if she’d always been there.
“Ooh! The mist cleared!” The woman raised both hands excitedly.
“Sanctia!” Wasranvel took her hand, overcome with emotion.
“San!” Anrutine pulled her into a hug with relieved tears in her eyes. Her friend had returned.
“It’s been so long!” Sanctia hugged them both with a big, surprised smile.
What a touching reunion. Mira gazed at the group of friends overcome with emotion. Well, at least they seem to be happy.
***
After they told Sanctia about everything that had happened, she ran over to Mira and squeezed her in the tightest hug. “Thanks for saving me!”
Perhaps because she’d inhabited a holy sword, Sanctia wore Valkyrie-like armor. With the hard breastplate pressed against her face, Mira answered with a groan, “Ah, urk… Just glad you’re safe.”
After breaking the embrace, Sanctia backed away a few steps and bowed respectfully. “Hi, I’m Sanctia. Thank you so much!”
Her white and blue clothes and gold-adorned armor were truly like those of a paladin, and her bobbed blonde hair fit her gallant look quite nicely. But in terms of personality, Sanctia was bubbly. It created an odd contrast with her appearance, made only stranger by her innocent smile.
This was Mira’s first time meeting a holy sword’s spirit. She was oddly expressive and human for a weapon spirit, not at all what Mira would have expected.
“I’m Mira. This was nothing, honestly,” she answered and gazed at Sanctia with a finger placed thoughtfully on her chin.
Evidently overjoyed, Wasranvel nestled in close to Sanctia and said with a broad smile, “We’d love to thank you somehow. What would you like from us, Mira? We’ll do anything in our power.”
“Hrmm…” Mira muttered to herself in thought.
“How about these? These treasures contain much value in their history.” Anrutine came from the back of the chapel dragging a large, heavy-looking chest. She opened it in front of Mira and added, “Please feel free to take them.”
The items inside certainly looked like what one would imagine to be valuable treasures.
“Oh, my. These could easily be worth over a hundred million…”
The dazzling contents took Mira’s breath away. But for good or for ill, it was mere treasure. Mira's tastes skewed more toward the magical—implements with special powers or other equipment that would help in an adventure. There was nothing like that in the chest.
After picking through the contents of the chest, Mira looked up at Sanctia with fascination burning in her eyes. “Hrmm. To be frank, I have more interest in the sword than the treasure.”
Sanctia cocked her head and stammered, “Erm? You mean me?”
“I thought as much. Okay. We owe you everything, Mira, so if that’s what you want…” said Wasranvel.
Anrutine looked a little sad but added, “Yeah. She saved Sanctia’s life, so we have to pay her back.”
They hugged Sanctia from both sides. They murmured to their friend as fresh tears welled in their eyes.
“Don’t cause any trouble for Mira, now. Also, don’t talk to strangers. Oh! And remember to eat your greens.”
“Good luck, San. Be sure to write us letters every now and then.”
They looked like rural parents seeing their daughter off to the big city. While Anrutine continued to say her goodbyes, Wasranvel moved to pick up something from the pedestal in the center of the chapel.
Hrmm? Er, what’s going on here?
This was completely unexpected, and a sense of mild dread filled her as the spirit of stealth walked back to her.
“Take care of Sanctia for us.” Wasranvel held out the sheath he’d taken from the pedestal. It had lovely decorations in the same color as Sanctia’s armor. The sheath was meant for that holy sword and no other.
Mira gazed at it, stupefied. Accepting it would mean becoming Sanctia’s owner. But Mira wasn’t a fighter; a sword would do her no good at all.
“Ah, er… I’m a summoner. Not much use for swords, actually,” Mira said, refusing the offer.
Wasranvel looked completely bewildered.
“Oh? But didn’t you say you were interested in it?” Had he made a mistake somewhere? Behind him, Anrutine and Sanctia both cocked their heads in confusion even as they embraced.
“Oh! That would make sense. Sorry… That’s my fault for being unclear. I meant that I am interested in Sanctia.” Mira looked at Sanctia again. A holy sword, lying dormant in a chapel in the depths of a lake, with a weapon spirit within. All of these were firsts for Mira. And as a summoner, the spirit drew her interest in particular.
“Sanctia…herself?” Wasranvel said slowly. She was beautiful. But Mira was a woman too… Suddenly, Wasranvel imagined what might bloom between the two women and heard a door open in his heart.
“Wha? But, um, er… Okay, but be gentle!” Sanctia blushed shyly, but agreed, apparently not totally against it. It seemed her mind had gone there as well.
“I will assume you’re still half-asleep,” Mira responded with a tired sigh before explaining. “I am a summoner, and you are a weapon spirit. One from a holy sword that I have no memory of ever seeing.”
Mira stepped forward, stopped in front of Sanctia, and looked up with a glimmer in her eye and a sly grin on her face.
“Would you be willing to make a contract? Summoning a holy sword’s weapon spirit… Sounds exciting, doesn’t it? Come on! What’s the worst that could happen?!” Mira pushed for a response, pressing harder and harder as if possessed.
“Umm… I’ve never done it, so I don’t know, I guess…?”
“Then this will be your first?! How wonderful!” Mira was acting erratically, seizing Sanctia’s shoulders as the obsessive little summoner’s grin turned maniacal.
“Why are you so scary now?!” Overcome by the pressure, Sanctia looked to her friends for help. But Wasranvel and Anrutine backed away and offered only verbal support, hoping that this would be enough to return Mira’s favor.
“I can feel it. Our meeting here was fate! How about we just see what’s possible? Can you agree to that?” Seeing an opportunity, Mira pressed further, hoping to be Sanctia’s first. Perhaps spirits of holy swords couldn’t form contracts. But perhaps she’d just never tried.
Even if she couldn’t understand Mira’s obsession, Sanctia could see her enthusiasm. She assented with firm resolve, “Okay, that’s…fine. I don’t know if it’ll work, but I’ll do my best!”
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