The Protagonist's Party is Too Diligent

A sharp gasp echoed in the air.

It wasn’t just because one of their comrades had collapsed forward, their abdomen cleanly pierced through. The sight that followed made the shock ripple through their ranks.

The soldier behind them, and the one behind that, all fell to the side, their armored bodies crumpling like dominoes.

Each suit of plate armor bore bullet holes.

Bang! Bang!

The mechanical click of the revolver’s hammer was followed by the deafening roar of gunfire.

I fired relentlessly in the direction of the Cardinal, unloading every last round from the revolver’s cylinder.

Accuracy didn’t matter. Even if I missed, it would be fine. The Maramaros rounds were more than enough. Each shot enveloped the enemy in flames, froze the surface of their armor, or sent them flying backward on a gust of wind.

The responses around me were a mix of panic and disbelief.

It made sense. Maramaros was an incredibly valuable resource, and I was wasting it like it was nothing, one bullet at a time.

Aside from the single round I’d fired at the gryphon earlier, the revolver had held five bullets.

I counted them off, firing carefully while using the chaos to gauge my surroundings and steady my breathing.

With the last shot, I watched as an earth-aspect Maramaros round pierced three enemies in a line. Satisfied, I tossed the now-empty rifle down to the ground below.

Without hesitation, I grabbed the automatic pistol from under my arm, holding it firmly with both hands, and darted into a nearby corridor.

A fraction of a second later, the place where I had been standing was slashed by several sword strikes. Even the ornate decorations near my new position were chipped and shattered as shards of stone scattered around me.

I extended only my hand from cover and fired a few shots blindly.

“Ah...!”

And then my hand was severed.

Missed.

Reset.

The reason I could instill fear on the battlefield was simple: I never missed a target. I knew where attacks would come from before they happened.

Granted, my actual battlefield experience wasn’t as extensive as it might seem. I had truly fought only once—if you’re counting “success” on the first attempt.

Before resetting time, I’d fought once. After resetting, I fought again. Before that, I had already replayed the battlefield numerous times to ensure I perfected the outcome.

Technically, this made me a "veteran" despite my age.

The skill level of the Cathedral knights, or how rigorous their training was, didn’t concern me. What mattered was their lack of real combat experience.

If the Empire and the Holy Nation clashed in war, the Holy Nation would lose. The Empire would send seasoned veterans who had survived the Northern Front, while the Holy Nation’s Cathedral knights would falter from sheer inexperience.

It wasn’t just a matter of skill or weaponry.

If the protagonists hadn’t killed the Emperor, the war would have ended with the Empire annihilating the Holy Nation.

Though I couldn’t see their faces behind their helmets, I knew the humans inside those armors were terrified.

The air on the second floor was thick with acrid gunpowder, metallic blood, and the faint smell of scorched earth.

“H-Help...!”

As I stepped toward the Cardinal, he scrambled backward, dragging himself with one arm. His other arm was missing, and his leg was broken, the bone protruding grotesquely.

I almost pitied him. Almost.

I wiped the blood dripping down my forehead. It had been obscuring my vision for too long.

The sound of clashing swords and the gryphon’s cries continued from below.

Were the others safe?

I wanted to check, but stopping the object glowing in the Cardinal’s chest took priority. In games, an enemy could be defeated just by reducing their HP to zero—or, in our case, surviving as long as your HP didn’t hit zero. But here, things were different. Permanent injuries couldn’t be undone without resetting time, and death was irreversible. There was no option for someone to simply "fall unconscious."

Bang. Bang.

I fired twice more, taking down two knights who were struggling to rise and reach their swords.

“Gah... cough...”

When I reached the Cardinal, I planted my foot on his back. Blood gushed from his mouth with a gurgling noise.

“Why...”

The Cardinal’s voice trembled.

Good question.

That’s something I wanted to ask him, too.

But he wasn’t dead. I could heal him later and get the answers I needed.

“It’s too late...! I’ve already unleashed the beasts and monsters beyond that door!”

“If this is gone, they won’t remain under control, will they?”

I bent down and ripped the necklace from around his neck.

“Why...?”

The Cardinal’s voice cracked as he tried to twist his head to look at me, struggling to understand how I seemed to know everything already.

“If there really is a goddess watching over this place,” I said calmly, “then clearly, she didn’t choose you.”

I tossed the necklace to the ground and crushed it underfoot.

Crack.

The delicate artifact shattered pathetically.

“Ah!”

A startled cry came from below.

Something must have happened to the gryphon.

Judging by the abrupt silence in the sound of clashing swords, it wasn’t entirely bad news for us.

I pulled out a bandage I had tucked away as an emergency measure. Unfortunately, it had been stashed in the unarmored side of my torso—where a sword strike had hit. The bandage was tattered and soaked with blood, barely functional.

Still, for what I needed it to do, it would suffice.

I shoved the bandage into the Cardinal’s mouth. If he bit his tongue... well, he wouldn’t die, but interrogating him later would be far more difficult.

“Try not to die. I have many questions for you after this.”

The Cardinal’s wide eyes stared up at me as I turned away.

The second floor wasn’t much of a “floor.” It was more of a corridor overlooking a massive hall. From here, I had a clear view of the battle below.

The gryphon, once proud and towering, had collapsed. It knelt with its head bowed, breathing heavily.

Its tumors bulged grotesquely, blood vessels in its crimson eyes ruptured, and its body was riddled with wounds. Even standing must have been agony.

The Cardinal’s inability to escape must have stemmed from this. A regular beast might have been able to function under the tumors’ influence, but a gryphon required immense power just to remain upright.

I knew what the artifact was—it had been detailed in the lorebook. Destroying it didn’t feel like much of a loss.

Now, the real concern was...

“Hold your swords until the end—!”

One of the remaining Cathedral knights shouted, trying to rally his comrades, but collapsed forward mid-sentence.

Bang.

My shot rang out, followed by the metallic clatter of his sword hitting the ground.

The massive rifle in my hands felt impossibly heavy. Only the power assist of my brass exosuit kept me in position.

I still had five Maramaros rounds left.

Though there were more than five knights below, I paused as my gaze met Alice’s.

Not just Alice—Claire, Leo, Charlotte, Mia, Lena, Jake, and Lottie.

...And even Sophia, who looked up at me with a mix of awe and fear.

They were all still standing.

Though everyone bore wounds, no one had fallen.

Despite my repeated resets, despite all the interruptions, they had endured and fought valiantly against the gryphon.

Knowing this, I almost laughed.

“Indeed, it’s not over yet.”

I muttered under my breath.

“If you want this to end, come at us until the very end. But for now... I suggest accepting defeat.”

One of the knights, staring up at me, dropped his sword.

The clang of metal hitting the floor echoed in the silence.

It was followed by another. And another.

Were they afraid of me?

How foolish.

The real Fangryphons were the ones who stood against that gryphon below.