The Light of the Battlefield

“Uwaaaah!”

Hordes of ghouls surged near the village, yet against the soldiers bathed in sunlight, they found themselves utterly defenseless. They were swiftly eradicated.

Throughout the skirmish, Anto continuously cast her radiant blessings upon the warriors. Where her light touched, the ghouls lost a portion of their strength, dissipating entirely under the keen edge of a blade.

Indeed, this made the contingent remarkably formidable. The soldiers, wielding weapons blessed by the Holy Light, felt an unfamiliar ease in their movements.

“Damn it, why didn’t anyone tell us how effective Holy Light-blessed weapons truly are?” someone whistled, remarking, “It’s literally one slash, one kill. I really don’t understand why Holy Light wielders are so scarce…”

During a moment of respite, another soldier offered, “Perhaps it’s because the Great Crusade inflicted too much damage on the Papacy. Moreover, the power of the Holy Light is rooted in faith. In an era where hardly anyone still believes in the Papacy, the Holy Light isn’t as potent as it once was.”

They added, “Perhaps Sister Anto is an exception among exceptions?”

“She truly… can continuously buff so many of us,” someone else said. “It’s incredible. I’ve been blessed individually by other sisters before, but none possessed her power to amplify an entire group. Yet she can sustain so many people alone. Ultimately, is this simply a difference, or is it…”

“Regardless, protect her,” the young Knight said earnestly. “I’ve made protecting Sister Anto my personal duty. After this war ends, even for her sake, I’d be willing to convert to the Papacy.”

“Don’t say such things here! Don’t you know that everyone who talks about going home before the war is over ends up dead? What you’re doing is practically…” Several soldiers gathered around the young Knight.

“Are you looking for death, Young Master Dander of the Lant family?”

“Ugh! I won’t die!” Dander, the Knight, retorted, a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

He was, in truth, a minor noble. The Lant family wasn’t among the great houses invited to drink, feast, and dance in the capital of Draynes. Their highest title had only ever been a viscount, and the current head was merely a baron.

Without enlisting, a scion from such a family would barely differ from an ordinary commoner. This was why he had joined the army and come to the border, not seeking grand accomplishments but merely to acquire the ‘golden veneer’ of a border guardian.

Naturally, such a knight earned little respect in the eyes of the grizzled veterans. They had initially ‘looked after’ this young master. However, when the decisive day arrived, facing a common enemy, his tenacity, his refusal to retreat, and his dedication to not abandoning the wounded earned him the veterans’ acceptance.

He understood his place, too. Despite wearing a knight’s armor, he unconditionally obeyed the veteran officers, even though, by regulation, he was technically the deputy commander of the unit. Nevertheless, everyone treated him as a respected junior.

“Honestly, I’m not boasting, alright? I’m a knight who’s genuinely earned military merit, and I’m even the deputy commander. I hope you’ll all show me a little respect.”

“Of course, Young Master,” the leading veteran bowed exaggeratedly, feigning politeness. “Could this poor soul trouble the noble lord for a sip of water?”

“Get lost!” Their playful banter drew hearty laughter from those around them. Despite having just finished a battle that was neither small nor insignificant, they appeared remarkably relaxed, entirely devoid of any grim atmosphere.

“This is our unit’s usual state,” the Captain, who commanded them, said as he sat beside Anto.

“I apologize, they’re quite unruly, especially once you get to know them. You’ll realize that God keeping these rascals around is practically a plan to destroy the world. Believe me, even if a great flood came, it would be the same.”

“This… I can only say it’s a very good quality,” Anto replied with a smile. The Captain paused, then said, “Is that flattery? I thought you’d find us… how should I put it…”

“No one is lowly or noble,” Sister Anto stated, sitting on her side. “We are all just ordinary people, nothing more. As long as one is human, they will cry and laugh, experience joy, and endure sorrow. Is so-called nobility or sanctity truly that important?

“If a ‘holy’ person views everyone before them as impure simply because they aren’t as ‘white’ as themselves, then their purity is nothing but a false pretense, utterly meaningless. Light treats all things equally. When it shines upon the earth, it makes no distinction between high or low, noble or common.”

As Anto spoke, she gently comforted a young girl beside her, who had narrowly escaped a great calamity. “Everyone here… is simply striving to live each day on this cruel land. No one has the right to condemn another or measure them by their own standards. Those who do such things are either foolish or simply wicked.”

“…” Listening to her words, the Captain was momentarily lost in thought. Then, Anto glanced over and softly asked, “Is something the matter, Captain?”

“No, nothing at all,” the Captain replied with a smile. “I just suddenly understood why the volunteer corps members say things like, ‘Miss Anto is our light.'”

“Ah, about that, please don’t say it. Even now, it feels a bit embarrassing…”

“What’s there to be ashamed of? Just accept it,” the Captain said, lying on the ground. “The sun shines on the earth without caring whether one is high or low, noble or common. Sister, you are like that light. You will eventually inspire longing and admiration in many. But even so, Sister, promise me one thing.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t overexert yourself,” the Captain said, sitting up. “And don’t care too much about us. Each of us has our own duty. Not everyone gets to return home. In battle, there will inevitably be sacrifices. Someone has to bear that responsibility, and that’s the people here. This isn’t a distinction of high or low status; it’s a mission. To achieve victory, sacrifices must be made. Soldiers dying on the battlefield is the most normal thing imaginable. Everyone here has accepted this, because we are soldiers.”

He continued, “If I ever tell you to leave and flee, I hope you won’t argue or refuse. Fleeing is not shameful; a meaningless sacrifice is the most shameful thing of all. I hope, Sister Anto, you can understand this. Don’t regard us as too important.”