28 Knight in Shining Armor

(A/N: This is a timeskip (of around a month?) to the next mission. And no, you're not dreaming, this is a double chapter release.)

Feeling my putrid, steaming breath wash against my face - courtesy of the helmet I wore - before it exited through my visor made me more inclined to the hygiene my haughty companions champion as being so great.

However, my heart is as ice to such things. I will stand by the point that washing more than once a week is unnecessary, despite the vitriol ill-tempered 'sanitarians' may spew.

"Are you so slothful as to neglect your supposed 'Holy Armor'? My poor, poor ears have heard incessant talk of how it is a hulking masterpiece of faith that will excise all Devil filth in your path; and now I witness it, and all I see is filth and grime."

Case in point.

I turned my head to the woman with little difficulty, despite the rumors of how unwieldy armor is, and made my counterargument: "It infuses some personality into the Holy metal. I have repurposed this from the generous Knights Templar, and yet I do not see you marching up to them and questioning why their battle armor is not spotless?"

The real reason for the… lack of cleanliness is that the armor metal was shiny enough to be spotted from a kilometer away - thus, I crawled through nearby shrubbery as cover for a while, before eventually giving up and simply smearing dirt all over myself.

However, I did not say this; she already knows why it seems worn and is merely bored. I will play along.

"From what you have said, you discovered a Holy Reservoir… whatever that is, and have thus Blessed the entire suit with the abundance. It is akin to a true piece of Holy equipment, now, and do you see my beloved Caladbolg encrusted with such scum?" Priska whipped out her Holy Sword to accentuate the point.

"Cease your prattle," I commanded, lying down on my stomach, taking off my helmet and draping my cape over myself. "We must watch for the Devils reported here."

Our mission was more run-of-the-mill than last time. There is a peerage of Devils making contracts in a mountainous Montenegrin town, and our job was to drive them out.

Driving them out is not necessarily the same as extermination. They are likely to retreat upon being faced with adversity, the cowards, and the essential premise of the assignment was simply to give them reason to do so.

Of course, it would be preferable to exterminate them, and I will thus pursue that goal, but I am a practical man - able to see the unlikeliness of such a situation occurring, despite the recent tensions. There have indeed been recent cases of Devils putting up more of a fight in these scenarios and even managing to kill a few Exorcists - but for the most part, however, they'd seem to rather not plaster a target on their backs and instead retreat after losing a member or two and putting up a slight resistance.

If, today, I do my work most efficiently and well, the chances of my wishes being fulfilled are higher than I hope - but I will not hedge any bets on it. So far, the plan is simple: scout out the area and circumstances to see what we are dealing with, and then wing it from there.

How am I supposed to do so without drawing notice to the supernatural with my suit of Crusader armor, while in the midst of a relatively populated town? I do not know. But I will manage.

I had posted our stakeout on top of a nearby mountain - any closer and the inordinate levels of Holy Energy emitted by our equipment would be much more easily sensed by the Devils, and it is partially disguised here by both our distance from the town and the chapel behind us. As I said, we are intending to scout out the area more before rushing in, and to avoid wasting Holy Energy - whose use would also likely be sensed by a Devil, as dormant energy is less noticeable than actively used energy - for sight enhancements, I bought two pairs of binoculars.

We have just set ourselves up, and we have found nothing so far.

"Well, there is a particularly large goat right there," Priska indicated towards the goat in the street, whose color was darker than void and whose size rivaled a small horse.

Hm. It appears that Montenegrin goats are quite impressive. What a behemoth.

"Idiot. Half of the people here are shepherds armed with wooden bludgeons; a goat is nothing out of the ordinary. One of the drovers even mistook you for a prostitute - though I do not blame him - and you still forget that fact?"

Ignoring my ad hominem and reminder of a most ignominious interaction, she lowered to a crouch and pointed at the thing again. "Are you blind? Those goats are one of the most contracted races of Familiars among Devils. Has your mind been so stuffed with basic science and math that you've forgotten what the average Devil Familiar looks like?"

"My mind is incapable of being overloaded, you fiend. I have memorized every word of scripture. However, now that I dedicate my faculties to deciphering the issue, I can see that you are right in that it is a Familiar goat. Good job, I suppose. If you don't break your legs again, perhaps you can continue this useful streak."

Her face soured at that, only having healed her shattered bones a few days prior.

"What are we to do, then?" I murmured. "It is just standing there. Oh. Well, not anymore, I suppose."

A particularly strapping man - with a suit to match - waltzed through the cobblestone streetways of the town toward the goat and began dragging it away. He seems to be speaking to it - and, judging by his clothes, he is no shepherd.

It seems we have found a Devil.

"There is a large man dressed in a well-kept suit leading the goat by the scruff of its neck," Priska murmured.

"I am not blind, in case I needed to answer your previous question for you to be sure. Now, go follow him. Pretend to be a wandering prostitute - it is a disguise that will work even without any effort on your part."

She turned to me, scandalized in expression. "No."

"Well, how else are we supposed to keep track of them? This pair of binoculars," I waved them in her face, "does not pierce through walls, unfortunately, and they are heading deeper into the town."

"Perhaps it would be easier to skulk around and locate them if you were not dressed seven hundred years out of fashion. Can that cape of yours stretch to cover every inch of your body? Otherwise, even trying to traverse through the mountains will get us caught, what with the reflection you suit will radiate if even a centimeter of dirt slides off."

"So, if we can't feasibly follow them in time…"

Suddenly, I was struck with inspiration as divine as what I received on Sinai.

How could I not have realized it?

"We shall bring them to us."

Unholstering my rifle and pushing aside some of the undergrowth we were hiding behind, I took aim.

"Would you like to make a bet?" Priska asked, watching what I was about to do.

"Gambling is a sin."

She ignored me, continuing on. "If he is a Rook, I will take on the first wave of enemies that arrive. If he is not a Rook, you will."

"How would we determine his Rook status when this bullet is far more Blessed than you ever will be? Either way, it shall pierce his skull with little issue. Holy Energy will make his sinew and bone seem as clay when it bores through."

Priska sniffed, waving for me to execute the man.

With pleasure.

I braced the stock against my skeleton rather than my muscles, I laid down in a proper prone position, and I exhaled.

Making sure to zero in on a small target for better accuracy - aiming for a shirt button makes you less likely to miss than if you aimed for an entire torso - I chose the very center of his skull.

It is a good thing Wojchiech had ample amounts of my favored rifle lying around as replacements.

A bang rang out, the Devil fell to the ground, and the crowd scattered after processing what just happened.

"Don't forget the goat," she pointed out.

"It is already running away. Unholy beasts get startled easily."

"Matters not, then. Normally, I would suggest that we retreat now and wait for the Devils to come to us - as they would if they wished to stay and fight than cower and flee - but perhaps you can get a shot off on whichever comrade comes to his carcass. Surely they will not leave it there."

I have no complaints. Before, I fought as a craven rat, retreating into the shadows - now, I stand tall, shielded by the power of God.

I no longer have a shortage of Holy Energy. My journey to Mount Sinai alleviated my worries - whether due to the Lord having descended to Sinai in the days of old, whether due to the prayers and reverence Sinai receives, or whether due to something else, the entire mountain is veiled in Holy Energy. So much so that I got a bit… rowdy upon being exposed to it.

Regardless, it is a source that I can siphon for far beyond the near future, and I have used the overabundance of Holy Energy provided by it to imbue and Bless this suit of armor.

It is merely an experiment for now. I am testing what I would need to fix in the future, when I should use it, or if I should use it at all for close combat - there is no telling if a Devil will decide to sacrifice the flesh of his hand for a quick blow to cave in my chest. Perhaps it will be more suited to more direct types of missions, as ones more suited for discretion and blending into the crowd - like this one - likely will not fare well with it on. Perhaps I should forgo the idea of armor and Bless more mobile, less conspicuous clothing as a defensive measure, though I have not had any issues with maneuverability so far.

It is merely an experiment for now, as I said, and if all it took was requesting an extra suit of armor from the Knights Templar - which they gladly provided, having been moved by my speech - why would I not test the idea?

Although, I will be careful not to act as if I can move with impunity with it on. Getting into a genuine close quarters battle with a Devil is feasible when I consider both the armor and the use of Holy Energy to strengthen myself - and perhaps emit it into the surroundings to weaken my opponent - but there is still a significant risk. I do not want to die so early, even if death is merely a return to the original state of man - that being paradise.

So far, the most major issue I've encountered is how noticeable the armor is, and smearing mud on it is not a viable solution for the future. Perhaps, when I get back, I will figure out a way to permanently dull it - bluing, maybe? I know the Alchemy Department has plenty of partial blacksmiths in it who could help. [1]

I was brought from my thoughts by a remark from Priska.

"Oh, look. Another suited man. This one also seems bespoke," Priska murmured. "He's running down the street… dirtying the hems of his slacks. How ignoble."

"How their clothing is tailored and mismanaged does not matter. Focus."

"Perhaps you should focus," she said, grabbing my rifle and yanking it to the side, putting the scope in view of the man. "You would see that he has halted and is currently staring in our direction with a horrified expression… and is now running away, I suppose. Straining my ears, I heard him yell something about an Angel."

"I am honored. It seems my very presence has made him forgo the collection of his comrade's body. Do his job for him - bait will be useful."

"There are peasants watching everything through their windows. Why on earth would I do that? Regardless, you know how jobs like these are executed. We are meant to drive out the Devils - they will likely leave, anyway, rather than be exterminated. Who is willing to die when they can just move to a different town?"

I was about to begin my rebuttal, which would take into consideration the more aggressive, territorial Devil encounters seen recently and enlighten her purposefully ignorant self, but we were both silenced by a blindingly bright light emanating from a mansion behind a nearby mountain - which was not there before. It was as if it had suddenly sprouted into existence, and just as quick as the light appeared, it vanished, leaving only the opulent abode in our eyes.

"...What on earth is this tomfoolery? Are they challenging us, perchance? I am afraid they neglected the white glove procedure [2], so we needn't answer their call to a duel if we do not wish to do so. Do we?" Priska asked, standing up and putting her sword on her shoulder.

Our deliberation was interrupted.

"Боже, каква је то била бука?" [3]

Craning my neck back, I saw a middle-aged, brown-haired man with blue eyes exit the nearby chapel we had taken position nearby to obscure our Holy Energy. Seeing a girl with a huge sword on her shoulder and a man in Templar armor, he blinked a few times before fumbling around in his priest robes for thin-rimmed, circular glasses, which he promptly put on. He looked even more bewildered upon seeing that the same scene was in front of him.

I do not know whatever language he just spoke, nor do I know the spell to wipe someone's recent memories.

So, I had to resort to more crude means of hiding the supernatural - that being abruptly leaping up to a standing position, leaving my rifle on the ground, and unholstering a pistol in the process, shooting the man twice in the chest.

You are more likely to kill if you fire two shots.

He made a few gurgles before falling onto his back, grasping at his ribs and coughing up some blood.

Unfortunate. He is a random bystander - a pastor, clearly - and yet, the Lord has decreed that he would perish in this pitiful manner.

It is a case of bad luck on his part.

I turned to Priska. "I will carry the body. Use the sword to dig a quick grave."

"...I feel you were a little extreme. Are we not supposed to merely incapacitate any witnesses and call for someone to take care of it in these cases, whether now or later?" she queried, looking at the dying pastor with a pitying gaze.

"When we have filth to exorcize? No. The purpose of this is to save time for enacting our holy duty - do not make his death be in vain and get digging. We needn't bury him too far away. After that, we march - and who is to deny the claim that the Devils killed this man once we have wholly slaughtered them and their ilk?"

"And how are we meant to do that, perchance?"

"Have faith. Both in God, and in me."

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[1] Bluing is the process that causes metal to look dark and a bit black. A lot of armor had it to prevent scratching the metal beneath, I think, and maybe protect against rusting. Don't quote me on that.

[2] The 'white glove procedure' is referring to the common practice of slapping someone with a white glove to challenge them to a duel.

[3] This is Serbian, and it means something like, 'God, what is that noise?' I know I have at least one Serbian speaker reading this, so tell me if/how I should edit this phrase. I think the use of 'kakva' is weird, but IDK I'm not a professional Serbian.

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This chapter's setting goes out to the most based Montenegrin shepherd monk I know. You're a real one.

Anyway, you may have noticed that this is not MC's pilgrimage to Sinai and the subsequent investigation into the abundant Holy Energy around it that I foreshadowed in the last chapter. That's because I did write it - and then scrap it because it was so sloppy and boring.

On a similar note, this chapter originally started with the fighting, but I decided to not do that because skipping straight to the fighting only feels natural if there's something special after or near the end of the fight that the focus is on. Here, the special thing you're meant to focus on IS the fighting, so I just did this little setup.

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