The one who will end all of this shall come!
A knight who will dye war and life in twilight!
We shall call him the Knight of End!
He who will ultimately conclude everything! The hero who will end the war!
Zoroslav heard the song that had been passed down through oral tradition in the village for ages. A few children outside the window sang it like reciting scripture.
On the continent, it had spread as the song of the Knight of War's End or the Knight of End, with similar melodies and similar lyrics.
Some called him the Knight of War's End, and others called him the Knight of End. In certain regions, he was also called the Knight of Twilight.
The original lyrics had long been forgotten. That's why in some areas, they alternated between War's End, Endings, and Twilight.
And to them, it wasn't simply a song.
'The Knight of End.'
Or the person called the Knight of War's End.
It was part of a legend that such an existence would protect them someday.
"Do you truly believe that person is that Knight of End?"
The Ending mentioned in the lyrics referred to the ending of this world. And that world meant the Demonic Realm. In other words, it meant a knight who would bring the ending of the Demonic Realm.
Some interpreted it this way, though it wasn't necessarily the truth.
Zoroslav looked at those seated before the wide table. The village hall's conference room. Over ten people, more than twenty eyes total, gazed at him.
Zoroslav was a realist.
That's why until now, he had thought this.
'It's just a song singing of hope.'
From a realistic perspective, this song too was merely born of necessity.
What does a person need most to live?
Food, clothing, shelter? People can somehow endure even if one of those is missing.
But when the heart collapses, that's the end.
What's the point of living like this? For someone who thinks that way, having food, clothing, and shelter provided would be meaningless.
Does life need a reason? Should one live even by becoming an Eroded? Must one live even like this?
If someone asked, there was only one answer. Of course, the answer was wanting to live.
There had been days when he saw a child's smile, pretending the bland soup boiled with moisture-drained turnips tasted good after taking a sip.
The day that child was born remained vivid in memory.
Though it wasn't particularly comfortable, peaceful, or luxurious, within this they found beauty in life.
They could walk watching the changing seasons and loved each other while conversing with those beside them.
They craved life to maintain all of this and tried to live even shabbily. And one of the means of maintaining this life was hope.
What people needed most to live was hope.
So as far as Zoroslav knew, that orally transmitted song was a tool to breathe hope into this collective.
Someday a hero would come who would end the source of suffering and bring them a better life? That he was the Knight of End?
The lyrics said so, but he had never believed it. At least he hadn't.
Trying to survive even by relying on the Demon-Lord—that was the reality these people possessed. Zoroslav had believed in that until now. He had faced and accepted reality, not some orally transmitted song.
"I feel that way. That that person truly is such a person."
The friend who had spoken reality even more harshly, who had been cynical, spoke with sparkling eyes.
The eyes of those who had been ignored, turned away from, and abandoned filled with hope.
The orally transmitted song, the man who had cut down the Demon-Lord's symbol without the slightest hesitation, the one who had turned his back after cutting down and killing all surrounding monsters and beasts.
A person who had entered the Demonic Realm without seeking compensation.
To Zoroslav too, he truly looked like the Knight of End.
Could they push away the hand armed with goodwill that had approached those who had never experienced even crumbs of hope?
They couldn't.
Because they too wished for a better life.
All those in the village prayed. For the one who had entered inside.
[ * * * ]
Teresa stood on the small, narrow stage she had made. She hadn't drawn her sword. It wasn't needed right now.
"Took in a girl who only knew how to fight, and she doesn't even know gratitude."
Why did that time come to mind now?
It was the period when everything had been mortgaged to the Demonic Cult's priest. A time when the world had been painted black and gray.
Then she had met Enkrid. And she had felt enjoyment in swinging her sword meaninglessly. That had been the first time.
'I will fight and fight again to prove myself.'
It was the answer she had given to Enkrid's words. He had asked how she would want to live if she were reborn.
Every moment from that time still rose vividly now.
Even the air and temperature of that time, everything.
There had been hot exhaled breaths and herself looking back at past times with regret.
Thus the Demonic Cult's Teresa had died and been reborn as the wandering Teresa. Though she had tried to hide inside a small mask, before long she realized it was meaningless.
'I will fight to the end.'
That wasn't words for the giant's blood mixed and flowing in her body. It was words for herself then and herself tomorrow.
Just because it was called fighting didn't mean she had to swing fists and see blood.
Teresa had fought with her past self and accepted a new god to learn the teachings of the holy texts.
She stood on the small stage made from a shield, turning only her head to look back.
The hero who had saved her stared directly at her. Looking at him, she opened her mouth.
"Ah—"
A rough sound that sounded attractive however one heard it came from vibrating vocal cords.
She looked forward again. Ahead, she saw the monsters approaching while dripping pus and the fortress walls shrieking in the distance, then began making sounds.
Soon her voice gained highs and lows, connected and broke, and she made even her breaths sound like notes.
In other words, she began singing.
Shortly after, a song praising the god stretched toward the sky and resonated through the ground.
[ * * * ]
Awakening divinity was a power permitted only to a few.
The talent to move another's heartstrings with song was also permitted only to a few.
In other words, awakening divinity and properly singing chants required separate talents.
If someone coincidentally born with both talents made diligent efforts, they could wield divinity through song.
In the Holy Knights Order, such people were called Holy Chanters with respect and esteem. They were also called Holy Cantors.
Audin had glimpsed fragments of such talent in Teresa and guided her to awaken it.
Previously when Enkrid had left for Zaun, it was also the same reason Luagarne had stayed behind to help.
She could sing a unique battle song called Frog's Cry, and her cry affected everyone around her.
In a way, it was a principle similar to chants.
The hybrid giant planted her shield to create her own small stage, climbed atop it, then sang. Her voice flowing along the melody was beautiful and refreshing.
When she raised her notes, she belted them out so refreshingly it felt like opening wide.
Ah—ah!
Listening to it made one feel refreshed naturally.
"This."
Enkrid muttered. Following Teresa's singing, some form was being created before her. Seeing that made his mouth open naturally.
Aah—ah.
Wordless lyrics, Teresa's skill making even breaths part of the song brought chills.
Did they say outstanding bards could handle instruments and excellent bards could sing well too?
The notes were deep and the resonance broad. Grand yet warm and peaceful.
An air so gentle it was unbelievable this was the heart of a Demonic Realm enveloped Enkrid and all the surrounding companions.
"May the Lord watch over us."
Audin recited a prayer.
Peace—it wasn't merely a feeling.
Though not very loud, her lyrics combined with divinity to create form, and it blocked the ghouls' advance.
It was a wall radiating white light, not quite as tall as Teresa standing on her shield, but easily exceeding the eye level of an adult male.
The wall of white light spreading left and right pushed back the Demonic Realm's darkness. That alone was spectacular.
"She said she gained inspiration from watching Brigade Commander brother do it."
"Ah."
Enkrid revealed admiration with a short exclamation.
He meant the Iron Wall he had shown when blocking Aspen's forces had been the source of inspiration.
At that time, Enkrid had also imbued Will into his voice, and words were added that it too had given influence.
Audin had said not to worry about Teresa anytime.
Though he hadn't known she would show something like this.
"It's not perfect. They're coming in through gaps."
Luagarne said while rolling her large eyes around. Her words were right. A ghoul was squeezing its body in through between the walls made of divinity.
Though the body caught in the white light burned with a sizzle and smoke rose, it ultimately crossed over the wall.
Thud— It planted one knee on the ground, curled its fingers to stab the ground, and tried to advance even by crawling.
And right before it, it met a human casually swinging a shortsword.
Scrape.
Monsters too possessed bodies made of bone, flesh, and muscle. For Jaxen, who knew how to stab and cut to kill them well—in other words, the angle at which the blade entered easily—cutting these down was far too easy.
However, the reactions of the cut ones weren't ordinary.
Blurble.
Yellow pus swelled from the severed part.
Pop.
With noise, the pus burst. Originally it should have burst to scatter plague spores around, but Teresa's divinity crushed and annihilated those spores.
As the song's notes rose, white light gathered above the burst ghoul and pressed down.
Audin also moved. There were multiple holes. His feet thud-thud kicked the ground as he moved, seeming to exist in three places simultaneously.
Afterimages created by high-speed movement, and agility unbecoming of such a large frame.
After moving that way, the heads of ghouls caught by his lightly extended fists burst repeatedly. Pus swelled like an inflated pig bladder at the burst parts and burst again.
Audin didn't need to rely on Teresa's help.
Though he couldn't sing hymns, just looking at his skill handling divinity, he was twice as excellent.
He extended his hand over the heads of the ghouls he had killed. Following his hand, white light spread like a cloak's hem and settled down.
The pus explosions couldn't pierce through that light.
Thoom—
They only scattered dull sounds.
"Your skills are quite good too."
Luagarne admired and drew out her whip. Her weapon was long compared to swords. In other words, medium-to-long range.
It was also a relic that ignited flames naturally.
A Plague Ghoul struggling to break through stopped and had its head shattered by the flaming whip.
The weight attached to the whip's end was heavy metal, and the whip itself as a weapon could deliver high-speed strikes with even ordinary adult-level strength when used by a skilled person.
But the one using it was a trained Frog. The whip's leather was braided demon beast hide.
Since speed was proportional to power, there was no need to mention twice that its force was considerable.
Pang—! Pang—!
The whip flying while tearing air burned ghouls' heads. To see the whip's movements required at least a knight's dynamic vision. Pus burst from the heads or bodies of ghouls struck by the whip, but that too only became part of the embers.
Here Ragna joined in. Languid gait, footsteps whose destination was unknown headed toward the Plague Ghouls.
The greatsword drawn before anyone noticed emitted a pale red light. Even though the sun had begun setting, there would be no lack of light sources here.
Ragna swung his greatsword like a farmer cutting barley ears with a scythe. Taking the blade's trajectory short while using only wrist snap with swordplay, he moved his feet. It was a series of simple, repeated motions.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud.
Instead of barley ears, Plague Ghouls' heads floated up from the simple motions before falling to the ground.
Though pus membranes formed at the cut surfaces and swelled on those cut by Ragna, their size was very small.
Pfft.
They didn't even burst properly.
Sunrise dispelled sinister things. It was called Sunrise because it was a sword where the sun resided.
It was a relic passed down through generations in Zaun. This much was appropriate for it.
Since the numbers rushing in were so great, quite many got through one by one. No, at this point it was no different from Teresa deliberately opening gaps.
She gathered the remaining divinity as it was and scorched the majority of Plague Ghouls with divinity. The ghouls with sewn mouths couldn't even scream.
Watching the ghouls being swept away like that, Rem said with a laugh.
"Hey, you two need to match my tempo."
Words directed at Lawford and Pel.
Teresa's hymn created walls made of divinity, but those walls wouldn't block overhead.
Kaaaawk!
So what remained were the giant birds swooping down from above.
But would that be a problem?
It wouldn't be.