The mercenaries faltered. I dare say even the dwarves' beards were trembling.
If they would just lose all will to fight here, that would be convenient and pleasant — but perhaps that was too much to ask. A dwarf commander who looked fairly high-ranking bellowed at the top of his lungs, his neck veins bulging grotesquely.
"What are you going to do about one measly wench you can't catch! You lot — cut off your own balls or kill that brat, and figure it out yourselves! Or I'll do it per—kgh!?"
I pulled the dagger wedged in my thigh and hurled it. The blade struck the dwarf commander's neck precisely. He clutched his throat with both hands and toppled beyond the crowd, hidden from view by the bodies of his subordinates.
He was getting a bit too loud for nothing, so I dealt with him.
I swept my gaze casually across the surroundings.
"Is there anyone here who still has something to say to me?"
No one answered. I gave a brief nod.
I moved forward without delay. The shock to elite soldiers was only effective for the briefest of moments. If I stalled any longer, they would soon regain their wits and point their spears and blades my way again. The dwarf unit at the front line stared blankly at me as I broke through.
But the frozen shock only applied to some units at the front.
"Don't let them get close! Shields to the front!"
"Aim carefully and fire!"
As if new waves were crashing in where the tide had receded, no matter how many units I cut down, soldiers kept flooding in endlessly. They had changed their tactics against me — keeping their distance entirely and firing arrows.
"......"
I used corpses as shields to block the hail of arrows. This time, the elven archers surrounded me from all sides. They were trying to eliminate any blind spots and attack simultaneously.
"Fire!"
The shrill voice of an elf erupted. Sixty arrows struck all at once.
I discarded the corpse and swung my greatsword in a wide arc. I intended to use sword wind to kill the arrows' momentum. This method consumed a great deal of stamina, and I personally didn't favor it, but there was no other way.
—FWAASH!
The artificially generated gale sapped the arrows' velocity. I seized the opening and launched myself forward. The arrows twisted off course and embedded themselves in the ground like a downpour.
"Ngh......!"
Just as I thought I had survived one crisis, a sharp pain lanced through my calf. A single arrow had grazed my right calf. I nearly lost my balance and toppled over. I ignored the pain and kept running.
"Hah."
I somehow caught my breath.
That had not been a random volley. The soldiers had been ordered to fire in unison, but only the commander had deliberately loosed his bowstring a beat later. Predicting that I would break through the arrow storm, he had intentionally aimed at the gap. Whoever it was, he was a cunning one.
I wanted to deal with the archer unit, but there was no time. If I squeezed into the gaps between soldiers, they wouldn't dare fire for fear of hitting their own. I ignored the archers and plunged directly into the second line.
"Don't block force with force — use pikes to handle them!"
"Stab in sequence. Coordinate with the comrades beside you!"
Once again, infantry greeted me.
—KUUGH.
Every time I planted my right foot, waves of agony surged through me. The pain was so overwhelming it was difficult to put weight on my leg. The arrowhead must have been coated in poison. I compensated by shifting my balance to my knee and thigh instead, but that was nothing more than a stopgap.
I had to hurry.
I had to reach Father, even a little bit faster.
"That one's wounded in the right leg!"
Having noticed my slight hesitation, the mercenaries pressed in relentlessly. Their methods of dealing with me were evolving with increasing cunning. Should I praise the Helvetica Confederation for dispatching such carefully selected troops? Or should I look in awe at Father, who had such a force under his complete command?
———Father.
"Team one, focus on the target's right leg! Team two, from the rear! Team three, with me — we take him head-on!"
"Arrow support! Damn lanky bastards — fire on time, will you!"
My greatsword erupted with sword energy. In the next instant, the mercenaries' bodies were cleaved in two. A storm of blood erupted. A dozen mercenaries scattered their innards across the earth, driving their mustaches into the dirt in every direction. I curled the corners of my lips.
"H-How do we block that!?"
"Fall back! Fall back! Cover them!"
I wanted to be loved by Father.
It was not mere affection. I wanted something sturdier, something deeper.
If life were likened to the construction of a building, the most a single person could erect would be a tower at best. A tower is tall and upright. But in essence, a tower is a house that no one can enter.
An inescapably somber gravestone.
"Your squad, fall back! All your pike shafts are snapped — what are you even going to do!"
"Captain! We can't hold any longer!"
Another arrow grazed my forearm. Blood sprayed.
———But when two people are together, the story changes.
I become your pillar, and you become mine. That is a kind of door to the world. Even if we have no space to reside within it.
Only then can I welcome something.
A kind of secret alliance. We permit and reject things by our own standards. We pass through the world and create a domain that belongs only to the two of us — so that your convictions being right, your values being right, can be affirmed from right beside you.
You may call it decadent.
But even so.
I wanted to become indispensable to Father.
"The line's been broken!"
"Pursue! No — archers only, pursue! If we let the formation collapse here, it's over!"
This time, the arrow struck somewhere painful. It sank deep into my left thigh with a sickening thud. I involuntarily let out a groan.
Where did it all go wrong?
Father and I — we could surely have had that kind of relationship.
Was it merely that our timings didn't align? If only we had met a little earlier — if we had met before Father had yet to commit slaughter — would the relationship I longed for have come to pass?
Would Father have smiled at me?
Could I have smiled a little more brightly?
..........
Suddenly, an open plain spread before me.
There were no more soldiers around me.
"......"
I wiped the blood from my eyes with the back of my hand. My vision cleared to the distant horizon. The archers had surrounded me in a wide circle from afar. I could see beads of sweat on their foreheads. Were they nervous? The hands drawing their bowstrings trembled.
Shifting my gaze slightly, there he stood — Father — as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Heh."
A laugh escaped my lips.
I had intended to put on a show of mockery, but it didn't come out quite right. It was closer to a faint moan. I had sustained too many wounds getting this far. A bitter miscalculation.
But it would be fine. Yeah. It would be fine.
I could still give it my all, right to the very end.
"You've been reduced to an absolute wreck. What is that unsightly state you're in?"
Father regarded me with an expressionless gaze.
I did indeed look rather wretched, just as Father said. The maid's uniform he had given me was torn to shreds. Breaking through the wall of human bodies had splattered it with blood. At this rate, no one would believe I was the daughter of a ducal house.
Well then.
I would play myself, reasonably enough.
That is — if Father's idea of Daisy von Kustom were to be, in a situation like this, with this look in her eyes, this tone of voice, this nuance — what would she say?
"I went to all this effort to see you, Father. Instead of praising me as a dutiful daughter, you critique my outfit? Hasn't Father always maintained that the heart matters more than appearances?"
"Are you now claiming that your heart is more beautiful than your appearance?"
"I am merely stating the truth."
Father let out a short, contemptuous laugh.
"That's the funniest joke I've heard all year. In all my life, I have never seen a person whose heart was so far from their exterior. Be grateful to the gods that they at least made you halfway decent-looking."
"I thank you for your high assessment of my appearance. Hearing you say that, even I — who has never believed in gods — nearly became a fervent devotee."
I glanced to the side, checking my surroundings once more.
Neither Laura de Farnese, the Military Secretary, nor Jacqueline Longwy the Saint were anywhere to be seen. The probability that both of them had abandoned Father and gone elsewhere was exceedingly low. It was more reasonable to conclude that some measure had been taken to make them invisible to my eyes.
They had likely used invisibility magic to erase their presence. Waiting for me to let my guard down, thinking no one was around, they planned to deliver a fatal blow. In that case, the bait was none other than Father......
Father's habit of volunteering for dangerous roles remained unchanged. I wanted to complain a bit, but that would be pointless. Here, I had to pretend I noticed nothing and carry on with bravado.
"If anyone should be praying to the gods, it's not me but Father, isn't it? No matter how formidable you are, stepping out before me was a mistake. There's always the chance my greatsword could slit your throat."
"You're right. I've made a terrible mistake......"
Father nodded impassively.
What brazen acting it was. In Father's eyes, remorse — the emotion of blaming himself — shone through strongly. It was so vivid that it was impossible to perceive it as a fake emotion. The saying "I know it's a lie but I can't help being deceived" was invented for Father's sake.
"It's you and me, Father. We won't need many words between us."
I raised my greatsword upright.
In an instant, tension pulled the air taut.
In the distance, the archers drew their strings as if they might release at any moment. The only one who remained composed was Father. He gazed at my face with eyes clouded by some ineffable sorrow.
Could it be that Father felt responsible for this situation?
That was a problem. In this stage, I was playing the aggressor entirely. Father needed to remain the victim. Inclining toward a strange pity at the final moment — that, too, was one of Father's bad habits.
Sigh.
I couldn't die at ease like this. Let me wrap things up properly.
"Oh. In case you're wondering — Regent Barbatos is perfectly fine. He's living happily in the Republic's pigsty. Once they cut off his limbs, he goes crawling along quite merrily. Especially the Republic's soldiers — they were delighted, saying they'd gotten a cute pet."
"......"
"Regent Barbatos received plenty of affection too. Father, have you ever heard the sounds a pig makes when it mates? It's worth listening to at least once. When living flesh is torn apart, even pigs have no choice but to scream."
I let out a soft laugh.
Father loved Barbatos. Father himself might deny it, but that was the truth. I had planned to entrust Barbatos with the role of comforting and consoling Father after my death. The script was already complete.
"......"
Father did not react.
No — rather than not reacting,
the sorrow in his eyes deepened.
The smile slowly faded from my lips. What was this about? I had insulted Barbatos, so he should have shown at least some anger. Had my provocation been too weak? No, I thought the acting had been quite good......
"Daisy."
It was then.
I was suddenly engulfed by an unbearable sense of foreboding. The "Daisy" Father had just spoken was composed of a tone I had never once heard before. Father had never addressed me in such a manner.
As if.
As if a father were comforting his beloved daughter.
"It's okay now."
"......"
The foreboding only intensified. I couldn't understand what was okay. I simply widened my eyes and stared at Father's lips. My gaze was forcibly locked in place by something.
Father opened his mouth.
"You don't have to act anymore. Daisy."