The time had come.
After a year of brutal training, our final test awaited us. We were to be deployed to an emerging conflict on the outskirts—our first true step onto the battlefield. This was our chance to earn merit. To prove the worth of our blood, our faith, and our suffering. And for me… it was the door to the war I had long craved.
We gathered in vast numbers. Paladins alone stood in the tens of thousands—some forged early, some tempered late. I saw familiar faces from training, scars earned through months of trials. Most notably, Oser. We had grown close through countless hours of combat drills and survival rites. Now, fate stood before us, waiting to be decided.
Our batch was called forward. The mass was divided into divisions, each a thousand strong. I was appointed captain of my unit. Pride stirred within me—but heavier still was the weight of responsibility. I would bear it.
Captain Zantos himself addressed us.
"Today is an important day in your lives. Today will determine who is ready to march with God's grace… and who will join Him in heaven. I pray for your salvation. I pray for His mercy upon you all."
Then came the briefing.
We were to face the heretics.
The same ones who had taken everything from me.
My blood burned. Revenge clawed at my chest—but I kept myself steady. I was no longer a child.
Afterward, I led my unit to our quarters. The night stretched long, restless, filled with thoughts I could not silence.
The day of the expedition arrived.
We were escorted to the armory and issued standard armor—thin, almost fragile. It felt as though I could tear it apart with my bare hands. But this, too, was part of the test. I placed my trust in the flesh He had given me.
We were permitted to choose our weapons. I selected a sword—it suited me best—alongside the standard-issue pistol. I lingered for a moment, admiring its craftsmanship. Disposable, yet elegant. Scripture etched into its frame. We were not yet worthy of holy ammunition, but this would suffice.
Fully armored, I stepped out to meet my unit.
Oser stood nearby, a battle spear resting against his shoulder.
"A spear?" I asked. "You never used one during training."
He smiled. "Just went easy on you back then. Couldn't let you get discouraged and left behind."
I laughed—his humor cutting through the gravity of the moment.
Then his tone shifted. "I guess it's time, Captain. Even if it's temporary, it must feel nice. What's the next move?"
"It's time to group up," I replied.
Soon, our platoon stood assembled—paladins, sisters of the church, and engineers alike.
The ritual began.
Priests emerged carrying incense and bowls of blood held within human skulls. Prayers blanketed the ground. One by one, crosses were painted onto our foreheads. Each of us clutched our holy relics with both hands, whispering devotion to the Almighty.
The vehicles were bathed in blood as well.
Then a man was brought forth.
He was thin, frail—wearing a wooden crown upon his head. He carried a cross larger than himself, chanting prayers as he walked. He was drenched in blood, fed bread and blood alike, before being crucified and bound to the lead vehicle.
An honor.
A sacrifice.
As He once did for us.
When my turn came, I bowed my head. The cross was painted upon me. I gripped my relic and prayed.
I would devote myself fully.
Body and soul.
I rose and looked upon my soldiers.
"My fellow warriors," I declared, "the moment has come. We were given grace. We were given protection. And with His blood flowing through our veins, we were given a chance. A chance to prove our faith and cleanse this world of filth. Today is not merely a test of us as paladins—but as His children. Let us march through our home and drive out the darkness that dares trespass upon God's domain."
Their screams tore through the air.
Morale burned high. Anticipation surged.
And so, our journey began.
We were deployed with eleven transport trucks, each carrying a hundred soldiers. Three light tanks. One long-range artillery support-class mech. This was our first real conflict after a year of waiting.
As the convoy rolled forward, I found myself lost in thought—listening faintly to the prayers of the Man on the Cross above me.
Across from me sat a sister of the church. It was my first time seeing one up close. She wore a black uniform, unarmored, yet her presence felt protected by something unseen. A pistol and a small knife rested at her waist.
They were called the Kindness of God—yet I sensed they were anything but harmless.
She caught me staring and smiled, waving slightly.
"Forgive my rudeness, sister," I said quickly. "I did not mean to stare."
"It is no worry, Sir Kortwil," she replied softly. "I was only wondering what occupied your thoughts."
"I was curious why you joined this expedition," I admitted. "It was meant as a test for us."
"It may be a test," she said, "but I cannot sit idly while others march to war. I will aid you however I can. May your wounds fade, your strikes be true, and your faith shine brightly once more."
Her words struck deeper than I expected. Gentle. Devout.
Now I understood her title.
Oser leaned toward me and whispered, "Just so you know—the sisters have vowed a life of purity."
I flinched.
Of course he would say that now.
I glanced back at the sister, a flicker of embarrassment rising. At least the ride had become… amusing.
Finally, we arrived.
The land was torn apart. Corpses littered the ground. Forests burned. The stench of death filled the air—a sight many of us knew all too well.
The time for battle had come.