Reincarnated User Manual

Shiron, who had grabbed Siriel, felt a tingling pain. It wasn’t like being struck by lightning or being electrocuted by residual current. It was as though his shoulder joint was being torn apart while he pulled with all his might.

But he couldn’t stop just because it hurt.

The puddle’s impact was wide, and to extract Siriel, Shiron had to enter the puddle.

‘It’s not easy.’

Holding Siriel, Shiron dodged the lightning strikes and trudged through the mud. Unfortunately, there was quite a distance to a safe area without puddles. The rain continued, and the number and size of puddles naturally increased. Step by step, inevitably, he had no choice but to step into them.

The nuisance wasn’t just the puddles that restricted movement. Camilla and Bernoulli were also annoying. Somehow, the mind-consuming gimmicks were the same for both Camilla and Bernoulli.

For example,

‘Maybe it’s okay to get hit once…’

‘Thinking of getting struck by lightning? As if that would kill me?’

‘Damn. This is so annoying.’

Sweat ran down Shiron’s back. Only after covering a considerable distance did he manage to look at Siriel. Blood was flowing from her tightly shut eyes. Was that blood? It was hard to tell due to the continuous red droplets. Why was her face so red? It kept making him worry.

‘Orca Siriel. You shouldn’t be like this.’

Shiron steeled his resolve and covered his hand with divine power.

He felt hot heat from the hand covering his eyes.

‘Lucia is…’

Shiron lifted his head to look in the direction where loud noises were continuously exploding. The exchange of attacks between those monsters was astonishing.

When useless thoughts continued, he felt an overlapping warmth on the back of his hand.

“… It’s okay now.”

Siriel staggered to her feet. Her gaze was still fixed on the friend who was still in battle.

‘I’m embarrassed.’

Disappointed in herself, Siriel stamped her foot. About fifty steps ahead, there was a puddle. Right in the middle, a spear stuck out.

And then,

A twinkling spread at the edge of her vision as if decorating the night sky. Siriel knew all too well who emitted that light. She clenched her teeth, filled with complex emotions.

Having lost her weapon and now receiving help during the coming-of-age ceremony where she was under the scrutiny of people she barely knew was quite blatant…

It was nice, but her pride felt wounded at first.

Siriel extended her hand toward the spear. A line of light traced a path to her hand.

Yuma and Glen didn’t take their eyes off the battle for a single moment. As this might be the last coming-of-age ceremony, even the maids came down to join Yuma and Glen.

“Isn’t it amazing?”

With dozens of demons behind her, Yuma’s face lit up with excitement.

“I was worried, but it was unnecessary. They never showed any signs of flinching or fear, even under the curse from above.”

“…I see.”

“They managed to avoid danger well, and no one has died yet.”

Yuma turned and smiled gently at Glen.

“Your daughter stands out remarkably.”

“…Have you stopped doubting?”

“I’ve realized that doubting is pointless.”

“…”

“Unless one is a Prient, it’s impossible for an ordinary human to stand against an Apostle, right? If we kill the Apostle here and now, that would mean complete trust.”

Lucia Prient, a child Glen had brought home one day.

Her red hair and golden eyes were uncommon, so Yuma didn’t immediately dismiss her. However, she hadn’t fully trusted Glen at the time, either.

Until Lucia knocked out Shiron, Yuma had been reluctant to acknowledge the girl who bore a resemblance to Glen as the family’s young lady.

And for good reason. Yuma was acutely aware of the limitations of short-lived species. No matter how much they trained, they could only start after learning to walk.

The age at which one could endure rigorous training was barely fifty years, so the limit of what they could achieve was evident, having observed many humans.

Of course, there was one human whose limits were not visible.

‘Kyrie.’

How could she forget that name?

It was a time of chaos, where heroes often emerged, but Kyrie was incomparable among them.

She was the one who had blasted off one of Yuma’s horns. None of the demons’ tricks could stop Kyrie.

Yuma narrowed her eyes and looked toward the storm. Intense light leaked from the red dust cloud with high frequency.

Kyrie also emitted a dazzling light every time she swung her sword, the Holy Sword.

Yuma wasn’t the only one who thought of someone upon seeing the light.

‘…What is that?’

Inside the pocket in her hand.

The one-eyed fairy couldn’t believe what she was seeing. In the raging storm, the owner of the erupting light wasn’t alone.

The light emitted by the pure white sword was tremendous, but the light bursting from the milky white sword stolen from Atmos was not inferior.

Yet, the milky white sword was certainly not designed to emit such light.

That light was entirely due to the skill of the red-haired girl. And,

Dolby still remembered someone who she thought could emit dazzling light from a dull iron sword.

How could she forget?

The brilliant sword energy that split mountains and seas, reaching the sky. A brutish sword technique that focused all the body’s internal energy in one place without any special technique, the secret art forged by Kyrie, who understood the essence of all swordsmanship in the world.

“Si… Sirius.”

Tears flowed from the eyes of the one watching the storm. Small shoulders trembled.

Dolby recalled memories from long ago, 500 years earlier, when the god she followed descended into the world. Many of her kind were held by humans.

The reason was simple.

Humans needed power to oppose the great force, and fairy eyes were highly effective ingredients for elixirs.

“…”

Dolby covered her mouth with both hands, unable to look into the storm any longer. She didn’t want to dirty the pocket she might indefinitely inhabit with vomit.

At the battle’s climax…

No lives were lost, and many still stood upright, but the victor was clear.

Bernoulli, with not a single intact limb, had created a puddle not of raindrops but of blood.

[Refusing to give your name until the end.]

“…Are you a ghost who died without hearing a name?”

Lucia, supporting Siriel, asked. Her tone seemed petulant, but her voice carried no excitement, instead a coldness.

[That is my wish.]

Bernoulli, the knight with no intact limbs, said this. The light in his helmet flickered like a dying bulb. In the battle’s final moments, the milky white sword, wrapped in white sword energy, had inflicted a fatal wound on Bernoulli.

The only part left intact was his head, rattling inside the helmet.

Bernoulli spoke in a hollow voice.

[I was originally a wandering knight seeking an honorable journey. I roamed the world in search of the strong, not to serve someone, and rushed to aid the innocent and powerless, like a knight from folk tales.]

Lucia sighed deeply. She didn’t look at the strewn armor on the ground but stared at a man approaching them, covered in what seemed like blood.

The intense determination on his clenched face made Lucia hesitate.

[But in the end, it was just a personal deviation. At best, I saved a few hundred people over a few decades, and the real strong ones had all died in the last war. That’s why I longed for eternal life, and listening to the voice of God was next. And then,]

“Blah, blah, blah, so much talk.”

Shiron, gritting his teeth, swung his sword.

Thump-

“Dizzy, strange thoughts. I’m going mad.”

Shiron sat down in front of the corpse. Since the soul had been reaped with the Holy Sword, a black bead should emerge from the ashes, scattering as a black mist.

Due to the urgency of the battle, Shiron couldn’t wait for the transformation into black ash and began rummaging through the corpse.

‘…Good.’

Upon finding the black bead, Shiron smiled contentedly and murmured.

“Good work.”

At that moment, a familiar voice came from behind. It was Yuma.

“Regardless of the result, it’s a relief that no one is seriously injured.”

“…Indeed.”

Lucia bowed her head, observing her forearm covered in many wounds. These were not caused by a sword but rather by sword energy that had inevitably leaked.

In close combat with swords, even the wind from the blades could not be taken lightly. Blind stones, as they say—minor attacks that came in an unanticipated manner—performed surprisingly well.

“This must be luck.”

“Luck, you say?”

Siriel glanced at Yuma with skeptical eyes.

“No one died, and there are no disabled.”

“Then.”

“There were disabled at the last adulthood ceremony. And there were deaths in the one before that.”

“…Right.”

Glen murmured, but his voice was anything but soft. Yuma, relieved, stroked his chest and smiled.

“It’s a joyous occasion that everyone is safe. Let’s return to the castle.”

“If we go back like this, we’ll have to cross the mountain range again.”

“…Do you have a planned route?”

“Well, I’m not holding back anyone who wants to rest right now.”

Shiron, slipping a glass bottle into his pocket, blinked his now clearer eyes.

“Of course not.”

Shiron’s gaze shifted to the pocket in Yuma’s hand.

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