“Damn it.” The witch’s curse was truly disgusting. It would be easy to say that its promise could never be fulfilled, but that wasn’t entirely accurate. I was a curion myself, but by visiting their grave, I had reunited with my adoptive brother and mother. Whoever had made the promise to the giant had escaped to Campsis’s hometown, so maybe there was a grave there. Maybe that would make the giant accept reality. But we couldn’t let it into the outside world—even with the princess’s spell, who knew how much mana it would take to restore a giant’s flesh.
In the first place, it was one of the Twelve Corpses. Even if it was to defend the townspeople it had sworn to protect, it had still killed countless saints. It couldn’t be allowed to run free. I knew as much, but that didn’t make it any more pleasant.
Several people with divine protections raced to kill the giant. The closest were Euryops, the blue-haired asshole, and Myra. Serrulata and I had jumped a ways back, so we were slightly behind.
“Is my princess gonna be the one to finish it off?” Serrulata grumbled. She sounded both frustrated and happy. A moment later, Euryops was sent flying. “Huh?!” Serrulata stared in shock. She had just watched her partner hurtle through the air like she’d been struck by a carriage.
To make matters worse, it hadn’t been the giant that had sent Euryops flying—it had been a holy knight who was supposed to be our ally. Twisting thorns had sprouted from the ground, striking her in the side.
“You!” Unlike Euryops, Myra knew the blue-haired asshole’s true identity and managed to react to his attack. She sliced apart the thorny spear that was aimed at her.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?!” Serrulata roared, running over to her partner. The Grave Keeper of the Golden City gave no reaction.
“What is the meaning of this, Lady Nemophila?” Orlaya, the princess’s older sister and holy woman of Black, asked coldly.
“Surely you understand, Lady Orlaya. The extermination of the Twelve Corpses is more than just humanity’s dearest desire—who defeats them is incredibly important.” She wasn’t wrong. Getting results was critical for any organization, but to the individuals and factions that made up an organization, who got those results was also important.
No one had been able to defeat the Twelve Corpses for three centuries. There was no greater honor as an individual, as a member of an organization, and as someone of noble blood. It wouldn’t be out of the question for the one to achieve such a feat to be praised as a savior for generations to come. Even though we were allies, I could understand why they wanted to be able to say they were the ones who had dealt the finishing blow.
However, that was all on the surface. Achievements or renown didn’t matter to Nemophila. Is she trying to set things up so that if I don’t get the giant’s Tracking Field, the blue-haired asshole will? She knows I can’t let that happen, so she’s forcing me to fight him here and now. The grave keeper was just following orders as her loyal retainer. Whoever emerged victorious here would obtain the Skeleton Sword Saint’s Bone Sword Generation and Pestilent Fire, the Grave Keeper of the Golden City’s Golden Garden and Tremor Transmission, and the One-Armed Giant’s Tracking Field. All five abilities would belong to a single member of the Twelve Corpses.
“Albert!” the princess shouted. I turned to see her panicking, pointing behind herself. Squinting, I saw a cloud of dust rising up and several figures inside it. It seemed like the situation was about to be plunged deeper into chaos.
“My, that’s a problem. The citizens must have noticed that the giant was in trouble and come to its aid. It looks like they’re quite fond of it.” The smile didn’t leave Nemophila’s face.
Had the curions taking shelter in the center of the city come running to help the giant? Curions didn’t usually act in an organized manner. When they did act in a group, it was often because they had been family or friends when they’d been alive. Otherwise they would just gather to spread the blessing.
That said, there were exceptions. The Boss of the Prison Quarter had the ability to control other curions, but the One-Armed Giant had achieved the same result without any special power. The citizens were willingly standing up to protect it.
Even the Colors would eventually be engulfed when faced with an entire city’s worth of curions. There was a limit to how long we could keep fighting, and the only members of the Twelve Saints we had left were two holy women—we couldn’t count on Blizzard anymore. If we could make quick work of the giant and then retreat, completing the mission would still be on the table, but thanks to the grave keeper, that wasn’t happening.
“Split into two groups. Albert and Astrantia will deal with those two lunatics, while everyone else will handle the horde of curions.” Everyone but Blizzard obeyed Orlaya’s command. Euryops sprung into action as well, so she seemed to be okay.
“How wonderful. So many of the dead will be returning to Heaven today.” Nemophila clasped her hands together, praying to the goddess.
“Cut the crap already, Nemophila. Wake up.”
Nemophila just giggled in response. “Why don’t you tell me how, Albert? How can I awaken from this nightmare?” Her partner had been killed by the Grave Keeper of the Golden City because she had been forced to enter the city under her family’s orders. I only could imagine how her feelings of loss, guilt, and hatred toward her family were all intertwining, twisting her heart—it was no wonder she called it a nightmare. “The only time I feel any relief is when a curion dies. What other salvation do I have?”
Still, I couldn’t allow anyone else to get wrapped up in her self-destructive behavior. The divine protections given to me by Irislaevi and Campsis faded. They needed them to fight off the oncoming horde of curions. Only the pale light of the princess’s blessing still covered me like always.