Chapter 107 Total War
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
The warrior Sieve of the Angel race—four wings, fifth rank—descended like a blade of light. In the game, she was the perfect all-rounder: spear as her main weapon, unmatched in durability, strength, and speed. Her “light lance,” forged from her own Mana, carried the purity of radiance—deadly to the undead and all children of the night. She could fight up close or rain destruction from afar with magic. And above all else, she was unbreakable. Physical or magical, her defenses were so absurd that most attacks barely scratched her. Even in the storyline, when she accidentally triggered an explosion in Smith’s workshop, she emerged covered in soot, crying not from injury—but from shock.
Now, as I recalled that data pouring through my mind, I forced myself upright. Small chunks of rubble slid off my body, but nothing major had pinned me down. My ribs ached, but I ignored it. I had to find Ethelena. And that idiot.
Then came a bright, airy voice.
”Excuse me, human~? Could I have a word?”
I froze. That tone—so carefree it almost mocked the carnage around us. But Ethelena—where was she? The link still pulsed faintly: alive, but distant. Damn it, where—?
”Mm, can’t you hear me~?”
Pain dulled enough for me to move freely. I swept my gaze across the rubble, triggering Appraisal on the heaps of stone. Ethelena wasn’t there. She had to be alive. She had to. Please—just let me find her soon.
”Hey! Ignoring people is baaad!”
A flash—then pain ripped through my side.
Weapon Accuracy 0 + 120 − 59 = 61.
Hit confirmed.
Attack 80 − 39 = 41.
”—Gah!?”
The impact hurled me backward.
Weapon Accuracy 0 + 41 − 59 = 41.
Attack 10 − 39 = 0.
”Guuh—ghah!”
My back slammed into a stone wall, the air crushed from my lungs. No damage indicator, but I couldn’t move for a second.
”It’s rude to ignore someone when they’re talking, you know~!
That sing-song scolding floated toward me. Sieve. Her tone was that of a mother chiding a stubborn child.
”…Don’t screw with me! You’ve got no idea what you’ve done, do you, you flower-brained monster!?”
Around us came the chorus of ruin—children sobbing for their mothers, lovers calling to motionless bodies, old women crying out in pain. Fathers. Mothers. Sons. All drowning in grief.
Everyone was suffering.
Everyone was broken.
And this angel had the gall to speak like nothing was wrong.
”Oh, humans really are such a handful~”
Sieve sighed and pressed a hand to her cheek, as if she were the exasperated mother of all this chaos. How the hell did the original protagonist ever tolerate her? I couldn’t. There was no world where we’d understand each other.
”Units one through three, secure the injured! Four to six, fight the fires! The rest—follow me! We’re taking that thing down!”
”Roger!!”
Familiar voices rang out. The vigilante corps. Squad leaders, their faces lit with fury—the righteous kind born from protecting others. Anger forged by justice.
”Oh come on, more of you~?”
Sieve sounded genuinely puzzled, like she’d stumbled into a surprise party. The corpsmen tightened formation, aiming their weapons.
”Don’t approach!” I shouted. “She’s far beyond human-level combat ability!”
”Tch—everyone, prepare launchers!”
The squad leader barked orders instantly. Shields lowered, weapons raised. Sticky Launchers—Torimochi rounds. They adjusted formation so their lines wouldn’t cross, precision-perfect.
”Fire!!”
The air cracked as the net of viscous rounds shot forward, wrapping her in webbing from head to toe.
”Eeeew! So sticky! This feels awful~!!”
Sieve wriggled and complained like a child in mud. I didn’t care. Let her rot in the dungeon.
”Tatara-san! Are you alright!?”
The squad leader rushed toward me, concern etched in every motion. I nodded weakly. “I’m fine. My partner’s missing—Ethelena, long violet hair, today she was wearing—uh…”
”Calm down, Tatara-san. We’ll find her!”
I tried to recall her clothes, but panic smudged the memory. Ethelena—where are you? Please, please be safe—
”Geez! Don’t get in my way!!”
Light exploded. A flash—then the world slammed sideways. The blast threw both me and the leader into the wall. He’d shielded me, taking most of the force. He groaned, barely conscious.
”Squad leader!!”
”Ugh… ngh…”
Seeing him struggle stirred something raw in me. Rage, burning cold. I pulled a healing ointment from my inventory and shoved it into his hand. Then I stood, facing Sieve squarely.
She was an enemy now.
A threat to every life here.
And threats get eliminated.
I summoned “Genbu,” armor plating snapping into place, baton gripped tight. ‘Agility Boost II’—upgraded to ‘III’. A minor increase, but in this world, one point could mean life or death.
Weapon Accuracy 20 + 100 + [ambush]15 − 120 = 15.
Evasion check—missed.
”Ah! That was close, human~!
She dodged my sneak attack by a hair, even with my skill active. Damn it. If I’d been faster—no time to regret. If I couldn’t reach her with speed, I’d reach her with will.
Flying targets meant no melee hits, and wide-area magic was off-limits—too many civilians. I had to stop her before she took off.
”…Tatara-san!” came a voice from behind. “We’ll get the victims out—give us ten minutes! No, five!”
Five minutes? They didn’t even believe that themselves. But I’d make it happen. I overclocked Genbu’s formula, weaving in the Mother-in-law theorem for better efficiency. Mana output surged. Runtime dropped to thirty minutes—but performance soared by fifty percent. Worth it. Even if the muscles tore mid-fight—I didn’t care.
The heroes had asked for time.
And I’d give it to them.
I charged, baton raised.
Weapon Accuracy 20 + 120 + [ambush]15 − 120 = 35.
Physical Attack 146 − 158 = 0.
Magic Attack 50 − 162 = 0.
The baton struck, and the recoil numbed my arm. It was like hitting a mountain. No damage at all. Too tough.
”Honestly~ you humans are so persistent!”
Weapon Accuracy 0 + 120 − 110 = 10.
Evasion success.
I dodged by a breath. Her speed outmatched mine, but luck—or fury—kept me moving.
”Why do you keep running~?”
”Because if I get caught, I’m done for! You broke the city’s barrier and wrecked half the district—what kind of idiot would think you’re an ally!?”
I answered Sieve’s puzzled question more out of necessity than courtesy. I hated trading words with her, but every second I bought might keep someone else safe. If I could stall her, if my presence kept villagers alive even a little longer—then fine. I’d tolerate her for as long as it took.
”Mm, I only came because someone called me~”
”Then go through Immigration Bureau like everyone else. You can’t just barge in. Don’t you know how human society works?”
Typical Angel arrogance. In older tales, the demons and the creatures of night had more sense of community than the angels—there were even absurd side stories where a Demon Lord ordered bubble tea at a cafe. I remember DLC bosses casually arguing over ramen toppings in full voice acting. Funny, in a bitter way.
”Humans are fragile little things. If we don’t guide them, they’d crumble—”
”What a conceited statement. Who asked you to be our shepherd?”
If your faith in the god of light makes you act like that, keep it to your followers. Not everyone wants you.
”I see~ so you can stand on your own, can you? Still, you’re weak, aren’t you~”
Weapon Accuracy 0 + 120 − 220 = −100.
Evasion check.
I’d prepared to dodge; I felt like a bullfighter, weaving to waste their strike. But that meant no counterattack. If she focused on me, though, that was fine—better me than civilians.
”You flit about so nimbly~”
”Hah—how are you going to guide anyone if you can’t even catch one human?”
”Then how about this—”
magic hit 130 + 120 − 220 = 30.
Magic Attack 160 − 109 = 51.
Before I could finish the sentence, light shredded through my body. It missed my vitals by luck, but my leg was impaled; I couldn’t move.
”Ugh—!”
A cry escaped me. Around us came screams—the sight of countless radiant blades burying into the ground and flesh brought new terror to the crowd.
”See? Humans are so fragile~”
Sieve sauntered closer, speaking like she was tucking a child into bed. I stared at her through gritted teeth, pain blazing with every breath.
”A few magic strikes and you fall apart so easily, weaklings~”
Her right hand gathered light until a spear blossomed—her signature light lance. She was ready to finish me.
Fine. If you stab me, I’ll take you with me. If you think you can trash humanity and walk away, think again.
Genbu—recognizing my resolve—flung its shoulder shields open. The automaton primed a desperate option: detonate the shoulder artillery and take both of us down if it came to that. No time to bargain—only to make Sieve pay.
”That’s why we must guide and protect you~”
”Sure—hide in the heavens and puke virtue from above. Go rot up there.”
”Ungrateful ones get punished~”
She intended to maim me—cut off a limb, break my spirit. She was counting on me to bow. I saw her slip into arrogance, and I rode that moment.
Then a wind—thin and sharp—pushed through the chaos.
Sieve staggered, a hairline crack scoring her armor.
”…Sturdy. Perhaps I should’ve asked Tatara-dono to strike me sooner?”
The voice was cold, unfamiliar in tone but not in presence. A figure in a white hunting robe, wearing elevated geta, black wings folding from her back. A white-bladed sword flashed. Karasu Tengu of Torakuma’s imperial guard—Hinagiku—stood between us.
”Master! Are you all right!?”
Then Ichika—sharp and worried—rushed in, voice trembling. She looked like she might cry seeing the light blades still lodged in me. She formed hand seals and intoned a short prayer; the glowing spears piercing me dissolved like mist. I gulped down a healing ointment from my inventory and then another—one wouldn’t suffice.
”Ichika… I need you to find Ethelena.”
Ichika’s hands trembled. “But—!”
”Please, Ichika. Ethelena is—”
”I understand. Rest a bit, master. Please, you must stop now.”
She began to cry, finally—soft, helpless tears as my wounds knit. To speed recovery I removed ‘Prayer of the Earth Mother’ and slotted the Alchemist’s Egg into my equipment. One minute, the formula promised; a minute to be whole again. A minute felt long.
Across the field Hinagiku and Sieve were trading blows. I could barely follow the tempo, but Hinagiku was pressing forward. Her strikes landed cleanly; they nicked Sieve’s defenses but didn’t cut deep—a sign that Sieve’s guardian toughness only bled a little under true blade work.
”Tatara-san, are you okay?”
The squad leader’s voice reached me—relief threaded through it. Good. He’d noticed.
”I’ll be fine. How about you—”
”I’m fine. Your ointment did the trick.”
Had he heard my name? Or did Ichika tell him? Either way, someone was watching our backs.
”Torimochi held—who’d have thought.”
”I was complacent. I trusted its binding.”
”No—if you hadn’t used Tatara-san’s Torimochi, that intruder would never have been restrained even for a moment. And your formula washes off clean—perfect for civilians.”
Even now, people were thoughtful. That small kindness—practical, polite—kept my faith in them from failing.
”Squad leader, one thing—”
”What is it?”
I handed him a custom Sticky Launcher from my inventory. A prototype—its Demonsteel barrel gleamed where light found a gap in the clouds. The frame was bent from Sieve’s mana waves, but it would hold.
”I meant to give this at the guard post. Sorry for the timing.”
”It’s fine. This’ll help—we lost the last one in the blast.”
He inspected the launcher: a half-bent frame but sturdy enough against Sieve’s surges.
”I’ll take it for data. We’ll fix it and return it.”
”Won’t you be angry?”
”Someone broke saving people’s gear to protect others? How could I be mad?”
He smiled in a way that made the world less heavy.
Because Hinagiku had engaged Sieve, time opened up. Casualties were already decreasing; evac teams moved faster. If we could ignore collateral damage for a moment and coordinate, we might pin Sieve long enough.
”Squad leader—help me.”
”Tatara-san?”
”Hinagiku’s distracting her. We’ll station people and hit Sieve with Torimochi rounds repeatedly to drain her Mana until she faints.”
I’d seen her stats in that half-life of memory—Sieve’s Mana probably sat around 360. If we could force enough expenditure—
”…Can I help with that?”
A voice I needed. I turned: Ethelena stood, blood streaking her dress, Ichika supporting her. Tears of relief threatened my voice.
”Ethelena—!”
”Save the celebration. First we catch that Angel.”
Her tone was steel. I had almost laughed at joy and was scolded into restraint. My chest tightened and I swallowed it back.
”Ethelena, how close do you have to be to bind someone?”
”About two meters, I think. Any farther and I lose confidence.”
”Okay. I’ll pair with Okusama and draw her attention. We’ll coordinate a trapping spell with your binding. That should raise the success rate.”
She nodded, eyes bright with that terrible, hopeful determination. We had a plan. The fight was still going on, but for the first time since the blast, it felt like we might pull this off.
Ethelena and Ichika would coordinate the binding spell—while the vigilante corps struck in waves. If we synchronized right, we could bring her down.
As the plan spread, others gathered close to listen. Every face burned with fury—righteous and raw. The peace they’d sworn to protect had been shattered. Their anger wasn’t wild; it was focused, clean. The kind of fury that made people stand between monsters and the weak.
Hell, I was furious too. There was no way these heroes weren’t.
”Ugh, you’re all so annoying~!!”
Frustrated, Sieve flared her magic. Hinagiku stepped to retreat, but saw the wounded behind her and instead took a defensive stance. Damn it—if she stayed, she’d take the blast.
”—Point that thing at my girl again, and I’ll kill you!”
A shadow streaked in behind Sieve—him. Of course the idiot showed up late, like always, making his entrance like some kind of dramatic hero. And damn it, it looked good.
Sieve couldn’t dodge in time; she took the blow head-on, her defense absorbing it, but her concentration faltered—the magic dissipated.
”Ugh, you’re really—!”
”You’re the one in the way, white-feather!”
The distraction gave Hinagiku her opening—her blade flashed, finally drawing visible blood from the so-called angel. The first real wound.
”They’re buying us time,” I called. “Any corps members still standing—”
”We’re here, Tatara-san. Not one of us is down.”
The squad leader grinned, fierce and certain. I bowed my head briefly, and the vigilantes saluted as one before breaking off into positions.
”Tatara, we’re moving in,” Ethelena said.
Ichika nodded, slipping back into her usual speech. “We’ll both return safely, degozaru. Rest easy, master.”
Despite the tension, that made me smile. My wounds had closed by now. I couldn’t cast restraint spells, but I could damn well prove what a crafter could do.
”You’re strong for a human, but—”
”Damn it, can’t land a hit…”
Sieve had turned her focus on the idiot now. Maybe she’d decided Hinagiku was too much trouble. She raised her glowing spear, thrusting forward.
Too slow.
Mana coiled around her arm—and fire followed. The idiot leapt back just in time as flames wrapped her body.
”Bunshin Art—Mizusai!”
Four Ichikas split from one, blades reversed in their hands as they slashed through the burning angel. This time, the damage showed clearly. Hinagiku joined in, her blade cutting through Sieve’s guard—until a Mana wave burst out, shattering both ninjutsu and binding.
”Wha—? There’s a bad little familiar corrupting the humans~!!”
”Sorry,” Hinagiku said coolly, “I’m the one corrupted by them.”
Ethelena fired twin pistols—Lonisera and Gloriosa—straight for Sieve’s face. Her shots didn’t pierce the barrier, but the flash and smoke blinded the angel long enough. As the melee fighters pulled back, the vigilantes opened fire with another volley of Torimochi rounds.
”What is this gooey nonsense!?”
The sticky projectiles splattered, only to be blasted aside by another Mana pulse. Sieve turned her wrath toward the corps—but I cast first. ‘Creation Magic: Wall!’ reinforced with Crafting and Alchemy theory, the barrier burst from the ground between them, taking the brunt of the blast. It bought the corps time to retreat.
Then the close-quarters team dove back in. I reshaped the terrain beneath Sieve’s feet, breaking stone into traps and snares. Crude but effective. Slowly—she was weakening. Her breath came ragged, movements heavy. Even an angel’s Mana had limits.
But we were all running dry too. The Torimochi rounds were nearly gone. Hinagiku and the idiot had no regenerative relics. Ethelena’s ammo was dwindling, though she siphoned what she could with Energy Drain. We were reaching the end of our rope.
When the idiot stumbled, exhausted, I threw up another wall to cover his retreat. He gritted his teeth in frustration but fell back. Sieve pressed in relentlessly, trying to crush him while he faltered. I kept dropping walls, one after another—my mind barely keeping pace. The corps were out of ammo, using shields to protect him. Hinagiku and Ichika rushed in, but Sieve ignored her own wounds. Too fast. They wouldn’t make it.
Then—
”Well, I thought you’d be home by now. Guess you’re all having too much fun.”
A flippant voice. Footsteps light as dust.
”Mind if I join?”
Blood sprayed from Sieve’s body before anyone could respond. The newcomer’s blade had cut through her as though slicing through mist. Not even Hinagiku or Ichika had done that.
”…Took your time, you bastard.”
”You’re welcome,” he said mildly. “I never get any appreciation.”
Damn him—but with him here, we could finally breathe. The vigilantes began retreating with the wounded, supporting the idiot as they went. Perfect timing.
”So, by the way—did you bring my order?”
He didn’t even look at Sieve, just asked me casually. The angel shrieked, lunging with a flurry of light thrusts. He deflected every single one without looking.
Show-off. But strong—so damn strong.
I sighed, pulled ‘Taroumaru’ and ‘Jiroumaru’ from my inventory, and tossed them. He caught them mid-fight, kicked Sieve in the stomach, and sent her reeling. Hinagiku followed up instantly, and while she pressed the attack, he sheathed his old blades and drew the new ones.
”Beautiful work,” he murmured, admiring their gleam before stepping in again.
Steel blurred. His twin blades carved through her like lightning, painting her body in slashes that glowed with reflected mana. She bled—but still didn’t fall.
”Nice craftsmanship. What’re their names?”
”Taroumaru and Jiroumaru! Break them and you’re dead!”
”Relax! I’m not that bad a swordsman~”
His strikes accelerated until even Hinagiku couldn’t close in. To my eyes, his arms were a blur of afterimages.
Sieve tried to blast him back, unleashing a mana wave, but his mithril-forged blades sliced through it like fog. He even whistled softly, amused, as he stepped closer. Once her HP hit one, she’d collapse. That was our chance.
But before I could speak, radiant blades—like the ones that had impaled me—rose around him. She was casting that again. He crossed his swords—and cut every single one apart. Still, in that brief instant, Sieve soared into the sky.
”…Judgment shall be delivered upon you.”
Her tone shifted—no more sing-song mockery. Her voice turned solemn, almost divine.
”To harm the servant of God, to reject His mercy—accept your sins and repent.”
A chant. The Angels’ greatest weapon: divine invocation, calling down a fraction of their god’s power. No character could cast it mid-battle—it was an event spell. A single casting could erase a kingdom.
Hinagiku and Ethelena launched into the air, but as the spell circle bloomed, a barrier flared around Sieve, deflecting their strikes.
”Cleanse your sin. Rain of Light. We, the will of God—”
”Target acquired.”
The message pulsed through our shared link—a calm telepathic ping. Then came a roar like thunder splitting the earth—and something cracked apart with it.
”—Guhh!”
Sieve coughed blood. The attack had pierced even that impossible barrier, its power dulled but still enough to drive through her body.
’Apologies for the delay, master. Dahlia Julon, reporting for duty.’
She came crashing in faster than sound, body wrapped in wind-magic barriers that turned her into a living projectile. She hit Sieve head-on, shattering the air around them.
”…Still tough, huh. When you come back, say ‘I’m home,’ Dahlia.”
’My apologies. I’m home, master.’
Even through the telepathic link, I could feel a trace of warmth—Dahlia’s version of a smile.
’Master, what shall I do with this… irritating bird imitation?’
”Subdue her without killing her. Can you manage that?”
’Yes, my Master.’
With that calm affirmation, Dahlia boosted her “Triteleia Fireworks” thrusters and ascended rapidly—high enough that the fight wouldn’t harm the town below.
”…That one’s yours too?”
”Yeah.”
”You really can make anything, can’t you?”
The bastard had somehow appeared beside me again. I just shrugged. This was my real craft, after all.
Thanks to the equipped Alchemist’s Egg, both my HP and Mana had fully recovered. I headed for the wounded. The medics hadn’t arrived yet—everyone was still bound up in field dressings and torn cloth.
”Vice-leader, how many healing ointments do you need?”
”…Fewer than a hundred wounded now. Two per person would be enough.”
”The real number?”
”…Some are critical. We’d need around five hundred.”
”Then this should cover it.”
I opened my inventory and began laying out rows of bottles—one thousand in total. The vice-leader and his corps stared, speechless.
”These are the next-generation healing ointments, made by the soon-to-be Chief Crafter. Take as many as you need.”
They didn’t hesitate after that. Smiles, nods, quick bows. The vigilantes spread out, hands full of balm, tending to the injured. The vice-leader joined in, applying it to those on the brink.
This was why I made them—to be ready for moments like this. The goal was always ten thousand in stock. You never knew when disaster would strike.
”Hey… big brother?”
A small, trembling voice. A boy stood nearby.
”My mother’s hurt… Can I take one?”
”Of course. Here, if you don’t know how, I’ll help.”
”Please… help my mother!”
How could I refuse? Maybe just this once, playing hero wasn’t such a bad thing.
His mother’s injuries were bad—deep and ragged. I applied the ointment directly and had the boy tilt a potion carefully to her lips. He did it perfectly—steady hands, careful eyes. Maybe he really did have the heart of a hero.
Her breathing steadied. Relief washed through me as the boy’s composure broke, tears welling up.
”You did well, kid. You were amazing.”
I ruffled his hair. He burst into sobs.
”Tears like that don’t make you any less brave.”
He cried harder, but that was good. Real strength didn’t mean holding everything in.
”When you grow up, I want you to be someone who helps others too. Be kind. That’s your promise to me.”
He nodded, small but certain. I smiled. He’d do fine.
I stayed to help the vigilantes, distributing ointments, stabilizing patients. A few needed real surgery, but they lasted until the medics finally arrived. Using Crafting, I built stretchers on the spot, embedding levitation stones to make them hover.
The medics stared as I pushed several “hover stretchers” toward them. “They’ll make transport easier,” I said. Relief, finally.
Then came a thunderous boom overhead. I looked up—Dahlia was strafing Sieve from below, her left-mounted Arcane Gun roaring. Normally she’d climb for altitude advantage, but she must have been avoiding friendly fire from above. She was working too hard.
’Master, there’s a problem.’
Dahlia’s voice, clipped and steady.
’What’s wrong? Armor failure?’
’No, ammunition shortage. We exhausted artillery rounds suppressing a bandit group earlier. The “Elingium” shell fired at the start was the last. Only the Mana Cannon remains, but its output is inefficient against high Magic Defense.’
Just how durable were these angels? And—wait. “Bandit group earlier”?
’Ethelena, can you hear?’
’I can.’
’Can you drain her—strip her HP to zero and drag her down?’
’If that’s what you need, I’ll do it.’
Her response was firm, unwavering. I nodded to no one, then reached Dahlia again.
’Dahlia, force her down to the ground.’
’I can try, but my armaments are limited.’
’I’m sending you something—a maneuver image. See if you can reproduce it.’
A mental picture—a high-speed dogfight move from my past life’s flight sims, rebuilt using this world’s magical aerodynamics.
’…Possible. But master—how does one who cannot fly imagine such precision?’
’Because I can’t fly, I have to imagine it better.’
’Understood.’
She accepted that without hesitation. No need to explain what “flight simulator” meant.
Her Arcane Gun clicked empty. Sieve noticed—and charged.
’Commencing operation,’ Dahlia said.
’Good luck,’ I replied.
’Yes, my Master.’
She pulled Sieve into pursuit, climbing fast. The angel followed, wings flaring, closing distance meter by meter.
Then, suddenly—Dahlia cut her jets. Thrust dropped, lift vanished. She fell. As gravity claimed her, she twisted one hundred eighty degrees and reignited her engines.
Sieve reacted too late. The rush of wind from Dahlia’s drop fed her thrusters, driving both of them downward in a spiral. The moment Sieve grabbed for her armor—Dahlia’s suit exploded away, pieces scattering like shrapnel.
Shoulder and leg thrusters still firing, Dahlia shot aside, escaping cleanly while Sieve crashed headfirst into the earth.
Ethelena stepped forward and cast her strongest Energy Drain. Light poured from Sieve’s body—then she went limp, collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut.
The illegal high-ranking angel’s grand invasion ended there.
Notes:
• Hinagiku – A tengu woman as Ranka’s potential companion. She stays with Tatara’s group after travels. Joins household scenes only. Linked to Ranka by shared gluttony jokes. No direct tie to Tatara beyond cohabitation. Cheerful eater.
• Ichika – The fox girl. Kunoichi.
• Dahlia – The automaton.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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