“Paris,” I said through gritted teeth.
Paris Pamphilj. I had etched the man’s face into my memory. This was the first time we’d met in person, but I knew him all too well. Here was the man who had pushed for the sort of execution that led to Isabelle’s painful death. I would never, ever forgive him.
“Paris Pamphilj... There is much I’d like to do to you, but first you’re going to hear me out.”
“Shut up! So, you’re the Arachnea’s queen, are you? Well, no matter! Your life ends here!” Paris proclaimed. “You shall not take even one step further. You will not besmirch this holy land any more than you already have!”
“Oh. That’s interesting. What are you gonna do, call your angel? Sic a basilisk on us? Or maybe bring out that thing you call Metatron? It doesn’t matter what you do, so go ahead. Try me.”
“Hmph. You know of Metatron, do you? But judging by your attitude, you have no idea how fearsome it truly is. Well then, you’ll have to learn the hard way!”
At that moment a hymn began playing from within the basilica. I could tell it was a hymn because it was inflated with grandiosity, and it was fairly boring. Religious music really wasn’t my thing.
And to the sound of that solemn music, light shone down on us as a giant figure came into view. Its humanoid body was covered in armor, and it carried a longsword in one hand.
Wait. I know this.
“The Seraph Metatron!” I blurted. “That’s the final evolved form of the Marianne’s hero unit!”
In the game, this was the Marianne’s hero unit. It started off as the Archangel Metatron. After evolving several times, it reached its final form, the Seraph Metatron.
When I first heard the name, I’d thought it would be the same kind of monster Maluk’s knights had summoned so long ago. But I was wrong. The Seraph Metatron was by no means just an annoying presence on the battlefield.
I rapidly began firing off orders. “Sérignan, Lysa, concentrate your attacks on the giant! Genocide and Toxic Swarms, hold your positions! Toxic Swarms, shower it with stingers, and Genocide Swarms, brace for an attack!”
“By your will!” Sérignan and Lysa shouted in unison.
Sérignan charged Metatron with her corrupted holy sword in hand, while Lysa used her longbow to fire multiple arrows at once. The Genocide Swarms stood in a defensive formation, and the Toxic Swarms fired their projectiles at Metatron.
“Raaagh! In the name of God, you shall be defeated! Only faith will bring about salvation!” the monster cried.
Our assault should have done a number on Metatron. I’d managed to beat it in the game before with just normal attacks, even though I’d had to sacrifice a lot of Swarms to do it. There had also been one instance where an ally of mine playing the Gregoria used his Fire Drakes to reduce Metatron to ash.
When it came to hero units, sinking them with standard units was almost impossible unless you were willing to take large losses. Sérignan was a good example of this. Hero units were so strong that you would have to send in droves of standard units to even have a chance to defeat them.
Worse yet, the sun was shining down on us from above. The Seraph Metatron, like many other good-aligned units, was strongest in direct sunlight. In other words, that monster was currently in peak condition.
“Faith! Unyielding, wholehearted faith!” Metatron shouted, swinging its longsword.
“Ngh!”
“Aaaah!”
That one blow from Metatron sent Sérignan flying dozens of meters back, eventually slamming her against a wall, and caused Lysa to tumble down a flight of steps. The Genocide Swarms planted themselves firmly on the ground, desperately maintaining their defensive positions.
“Sérignan! You have to chip away at Metatron, no matter what! You’re the only one here who can do it! I’m counting on you, so do whatever you can to take it down!”
“Understood, Your Majesty!”
Sending in one hero unit to slay another was the most effective method. In situations where a player had already lost their hero unit, they had no choice but to rely on numbers. At that point, however, the losses would be grave enough to turn the tide of battle against them.
Still, Sérignan was only in her third form. One of the Arachnea’s weak points—the fact that its hero units matured at a slower rate in the endgame—was rearing its ugly head.
Can she win? No, she has to win. By any means necessary.
“Lysa! Give Sérignan covering fire from behind! Shoot fire arrows, venom-dipped arrows, anything you’ve got! Just keep firing!”
“Roger, Your Majesty!”
Lysa quickly got to shooting. While she had a name, she wasn’t a hero unit, so there were limits to what she could achieve. Regardless, I ordered her to do whatever she could. I had limited manpower, so I had to use it appropriately.
“Hmph!”
“Haaah!”
Metatron and Sérignan locked blades with a deafening metallic clash. My knight was clearly being pushed back, but she desperately held her ground. She probably sensed my will through the collective consciousness because her movements were nimbler than usual.
“Haaaaaah!”
At last, she landed a blow. Her blade slashed across Metatron’s chest, and the corrupted holy sword dug deep into the giant’s flesh. But still, the damned thing wouldn’t fall.
Even that wasn’t enough?!
“’Tis useless! Those without faith cannot oppose me!” Metatron bellowed as its counterattack hit Sérignan head-on.
She was sent flying backward like a leaf being blown away by a tornado, and her body crashed into the wall once again. Cracks ran through her armor. Just looking at it pained me.
“I will not... give up! I will not surrender! For Her Majesty!” Sérignan cried as she recovered from the impact.
“I’ll cover for you!” Lysa yelled.
“Ngggh!”
Lysa’s venom-dipped arrows pierced Metatron’s eyes, blinding it. Even a hero unit would be limited without eyesight. Perhaps now we’d have an easier time.
“The faithless will not know glory! The faithless will not know victory!” Metatron roared like a maddened machine and charged toward me.
Crap.
As a player, I had never needed to worry about being attacked in the game, so I hadn’t taken any measures to defend myself in this battle. At this rate, I’d be killed.
Ahh... I’m gonna die. I wonder what’ll happen next. I feel like Sandalphon will come for me. Something tells me I’ll see her.
“I’ve got you, Your Majesty!” Sérignan sliced into the monster’s flank before it could reach me.
The attack took Metatron completely by surprise. Sérignan’s blade cut through its right arm, lacerating it from shoulder to wrist.
“Gaaaaah!” Metatron shrieked in pain.
“I will never! Let anyone! Harm a hair on Her Majesty’s head!” Sérignan howled, her eyes blazing with wrath. “I am a knight! The Arachnea’s knight!”
Sérignan slashed and slashed and slashed. She desperately, earnestly, and hatefully cleaved through the Seraph. In that moment, Sérignan struck me as extremely dependable, as if she would always be there to save me. Well, this time, she already had.
Now if only Metatron would fall, then we could put an end to all this. And yet...
“Hmph! The faithless will not know victory!” Metatron shook Sérignan off and swung at her with its sword.
“Blast!” Once again, Sérignan went flying at the wall.
Her armor was crumbling away, and she didn’t look like she was in any condition to fight. Every time she moved, a little more of her carapace chipped off and fell to the ground. The sight of it terrified me.
I was scared. I couldn’t bear the idea of her dying.
I have to keep her safe. This time, I’ll protect you, Sérignan.
“Lysa, keep it up.” After that, I made my decision. “Genocide Swarms, forward!”
Sérignan had already wounded Metatron, who had damaged her in turn. Now we simply needed to retaliate. I commanded the Genocide Swarms to charge the creature to fight on and honor our hero unit.
Abiding by my orders, the Genocide Swarms rushed Metatron. They crowded around it, gouging at its flesh with their claws and fangs. I had seen this sort of scene in the game before—regular units beating down a hero unit with superior numbers.
But they too were soldiers on the battlefield, and I knew full well a hero unit alone didn’t turn the tide of a war. The game was built around standard units, and they were an important, indispensable existence that could change the course of battle.
“Faithless insects! Your endeavors mean nothing in the face of true devotion!”
The courage of these standard units enabled them to step up and serve their purpose as weapons of war. Metatron tore the Genocide Swarms apart, wildly swinging its longsword to drive them back. But its efforts were in vain; the damage Sérignan had dealt it earlier was slowing it down.
“Finish it off, Genocide Swarms!” I shouted, and the Swarms obliged.
They sank their fangs into Metatron’s neck, tearing into its flesh deeper and deeper still. Metatron desperately struggled to beat them down... but then its head was torn off with almost comical ease. The creature’s cartoonish end seemed in mockery of its frantic efforts to live.
Its head tumbled to the ground, the face still contorted with rage and hatred, and rolled some distance away.
“We... won?” Lysa said, surprised.
“We did, Lysa. Oh, but poor Sérignan!” I hurried over to Sérignan’s side.
Sérignan’s armor was in shambles, and her breathing was so labored it appeared she might die at any moment. I felt so terribly helpless. There was nothing I could do but hope with all my heart that she would pull through.
Please, Sérignan... Don’t die!
“Gah... Ack!” Sérignan coughed heavily.
“Sérignan! Sérignan, are you all right?!”
“I am... fine,” she murmured. “Though I admit my body is in great pain. But this isn’t enough to...”
She clearly wasn’t fine, though.
“Stay still, Sérignan. I’ll have the Worker Swarms build a Regeneration Pod, so you just sit tight and wait to recover. Lysa and the Genocide Swarms will keep you safe until you’re all better.”
“I... appreciate your concern, Your Majesty. And I... apologize. My weakness, my ineptitude... brought this on...”
“You’ve done so much to help us. We only won thanks to you.”
Yes, our triumph was all thanks to Sérignan, Lysa, and the Genocide Swarms. This victory belonged to everyone. No, it belonged to everyone other than me. All of them had fought without fearing death.
“I’m going to end this war. I’m tired of all this fighting,” I said. With that, I gathered the Toxic Swarms and strode toward Paris, who was in shock after witnessing Metatron’s defeat.