Type-Moon, Does a Small Boost Count as a Boost?

Novia noticed that a thin layer of snow had piled up on her head. Since he had remained indoors and never come out, she must not have wanted to disturb him, so she had simply waited for the moment he emerged.

He reached out to brush it away, only for Attila herself to extend her hand and seize his hand from the other side without expression.

"Don't you think accumulated snow is wonderful? It buries every other color, even the world itself. If this heavy snow could keep falling over the entire world, forever and ever, without end..."

The brown-skinned girl stared intently into his deep blue, ocean-like eyes and paused.

"Then perhaps you and I could spare ourselves the effort of killing them in the future."

"Attila, you haven't changed. You've always thought that way. Sometimes, that method really is effective, but completely killing something only hides the real problem from sight. It doesn't count as truly solving it."

Avia sighed. After living here for many years, he had always felt that, for some unknown reason, the Holy Church headquarters within the current Western Roman Empire had become exceedingly rigid.

After the year 300 AD, although Ecumenical Councils were still held, the ruling headquarters simply ignored believers with innovative ideas about doctrine and condemned them as heretics to be executed. Any unbeliever was directly treated as something other than "human." Now, a hundred years later, there was even a growing tendency that if someone's parents were not Christians, their children could not become true Christians either and were merely inferior believers.

Or they were regarded as the same kind as Dead Apostles... Though compared to the first century AD, Dead Apostles could now be called endangered animals. After all, the Church now practiced slaughtering every member of the bloodline, burning their entire territory to the ground, and meeting them with massacres akin to absolute destruction.

Even royal family members who followed the faith were treated this way. Over time, it naturally caused discord between the Church and the Empire. Thus, after the previous Roman Emperor died and the Church and royal family completely fell out over the issue of succession, two princes supported by each side split the vast Roman Empire apart.

It became the division of the realm that a founding emperor of some later Eastern dynasty had once envisioned.

"...I don't like the name Attila. I prefer a name that sounds cuter. Avia, you know a lot. Most of what I've learned was taught by you, so give me a name."

When he saw the girl's expressionless face and heard the extreme seriousness in her voice, Avia could not help but laugh. He raised his other hand, the one she was not holding, to brush the snow from her head. This time, the white-haired girl did not resist. She merely accepted it silently and continued staring at him with her blood-red eyes.

The snow melted soundlessly beneath the warmth of his hand.

"Here we go again."

Kill a Dragon, Bathe in Blood, Defeat a King

For Avia, who had come to this era, although he had not known what age it would be before arriving, he was still very familiar with the girl before him.

A brown-skinned, white-haired girl. The Scourge of God. Attila, King of the Huns.

Her true identity was Sefar, a giant god designated Wilpha 02, a Harvest Star Vanguard that had burned nearly every civilization on Earth more than thirteen thousand years ago. It had collapsed into a pile of earth in the Sahara Desert, leaving behind its buried terminal brain—or rather, a backup containing something equivalent to its core.

More than thirteen thousand years ago, at the final moment when the planet was about to face destruction.

The original wielder of the holy sword, who had swung the planet itself and forged humanity's sorrowful wishes into the strongest fantasy, the "Holy Sword," pierced through the giant god. Even though Sefar possessed a body tougher than any mineral on Earth and bones that should have withstood even the heat of a star, it could not block that strike from the strongest fantasy.

In the end, the pseudo-spiritual particles absorbed from Earth by Sefar's avatar scattered down like fine snow as it headed toward defeat. At the same time, it rendered the main body, which was eroding the Moon Cell on the Moon, unable to act for several minutes.

The Moon Cell on the Moon took advantage of that disastrous defeat and created an isolation space within itself, surrounding and sealing the Harvest Star Vanguard's main body inside an unknown domain.

Furthermore, the Moon Cell launched one final counterattack into space—it sealed the route and coordinates leading to the Solar System.

The Moon Cell also unleashed extraordinarily powerful interference across the entire galaxy. For thirteen thousand years, it had continued using countermeasures to conceal itself from the Harvest Star's surveillance.

"That's right. I'm Attila. Don't call me Attila anymore. That name isn't cute at all."

With her back to the snow-filled world, the girl's expression remained stern, but her blood-red eyes, half-hidden in shadow beneath the backlight, narrowed slightly. Clearly, hearing that name had improved her mood somewhat.

When Attila first learned from the elders about Avia, who was only two years older than her, she had not felt anything special.

Because Attila existed only to fight. That was what the Hun elders had told her.

She had no father, no mother. She existed as a descendant of the Huns.

Indeed, the white-haired girl possessed no memories of either a father or a mother. She had neither family nor friends.

The only things in this world were enemies she needed to fight, just as the battle markings that had been on her body from the moment she awakened indicated.

Fighting single-mindedly was Attila's nature and her duty. She was destined to properly display her own performance, and she had never questioned that.

She had merely become somewhat curious about Avia, someone who could never defeat her, yet always managed to win by relying on inexplicable illusions. After every victory, he tirelessly repeated the same words to her with little variation.

"Killing people is only natural. That is what warriors do. Kill, kill, kill—keep killing everywhere. Burn and plunder, crush and destroy your enemies.

"Attila, I won't deny your nature. You're simply focused on swinging your blade and continuing to kill. Sometimes, I do the same. But I only hope you can understand what fighting truly means to you.

"And you are not alone. You have family. Not your current Hun family, but your real family. They are in the sky."

Whenever she looked alone at the stars filling the night sky and trembled with loneliness, the girl would always remember those words, as though she truly had family somewhere beyond the heavens.

In truth, Avia had not been lying.

Attila herself had also once been one of the people of a civilization invaded by the Harvest Star. On her original planet, she had belonged to the imperial class. Because the Harvest Star had taken notice of her, she had been remade into a Vanguard. The reason she had initially spared the being whom the King of Heroes Gilgamesh called "Father" might have been because she wanted to transform him into a new Vanguard.

The Harvest Star had launched three star vessels into the Solar System. Attila was Wilpha 02. She had an older brother designated 01 and a younger sister designated 03.

However, Earth had not been the primary target of those two. Perhaps there had been other civilizations in the Solar System at the time, so they had gone separately to harvest them.

Perhaps it was because of that unique feeling that Attila became slightly more concerned and began considering what meaning she had beyond fighting.

Thus, when the tribe and the Western Roman Empire reached an agreement to exchange hostages, the girl had stepped forward first.

She wanted to see whether she could experience the way of living Avia had described beyond slaughter. Whether she could roam freely as a traveler on horseback, or perhaps, like people she had seen before, cultivate the land herself, raise wheat, or hunt beasts and birds.

Unfortunately, life as a hostage in Western Rome differed greatly from what she had imagined. Not only were her movements restricted, she was also forced to attend lessons from Roman court teachers and listen to Church doctrine.

If not for Avia's persuasion, she would have wanted to destroy everything long ago. After all, the only god she had any interest in was the war god Mars.

From the moment she began learning language, the young Attila had recalled the concept of the "war god" from her memories. She asked the elders and learned that there was a war god named Mars in the western lands. Thus, holding a sword that shone with rainbow-like colors, she declared:

"Then my sword shall be the Sword of Mars. I want to name it that."

Perhaps it was because, during her time as Sefar, she had been satisfied that this original war god had actually managed to inflict a little damage on her.

"Come to think of it, where did you go, Avia? You were the one who told me not to wander around, yet you left me behind and went off by yourself. Since coming to Rome, you've often lied to me."

Just as Avia was about to walk past Attila and continue onward, the girl suddenly extended a hand to stop him. Her eyes, which had been narrowed only seconds ago, were now fully open and incomparably serious.

"Haven't I been here with you the whole time?"

Seeing her reaction, Avia deliberately raised one brow and smiled with interest.

Faced with the silver-haired boy's evasive answer, Attila, who had already seen through his illusions, quietly shook her head and continued in an even tone.

"That isn't what I mean. It's fine if you don't stay with me. I just want to lend you my Sword of Mars, so nothing happens to you. Because you can't beat me."

"...Don't worry. I'll be back soon. And in terms of strength, I'm only a tiny bit weaker than you, right? Besides, with my illusions, I'm the one who always wins."

"Then you still can't defeat me openly and fairly. Besides, your illusions no longer work on me... So what are you going out to do?"

Avia turned around, wearing a gentle smile that suited the atmosphere.

"In that case, I'll kill a dragon, bathe in dragon blood, and then defeat you openly and fairly."

The Name Siegfried

In a city not far from the Rhine River, night slowly descended over the roads. The rain had just ended, and sky and earth seemed to have exchanged identities. Above was a vast dimness, while beneath their feet flowed the radiance of a river of stars.

After nightfall, people returning home filled the streets. Though their bodies were tired, their faces still carried hopes for tomorrow. Some even let out hearty laughter as they talked excitedly.

Perhaps because this was a remote region, or perhaps because no unbelievers had been found here, the place appeared harmonious, at least on the surface.

After the Common Era began, dragons appearing in the present world were mainly born from the influence of dragon factors left on the surface after the Age of Gods ended.

In the Norse region and within the realm of legends, there was also a special phenomenon that could turn creatures other than dragons into dragons.

Its conceptual definition was—greed that exceeded all limits, resulting in the Evil Dragon phenomenon, which would reduce any creature to Fafnir.

In the Type-Moon world, Fafnir was not a single dragon, but an Evil Dragon phenomenon, a conceptual collective term.

And that was Avia's main objective after coming to the Western Roman Empire with Attila: to see whether he could find and kill an Evil Dragon Fafnir, bathe in its blood, and make his current body "invincible" in an era where Mystery was weaker than it had been in the first century.

No matter what, although Avia had yet to decide how to properly handle the Holy Church's current problems, he understood that improving his own strength was always beneficial.

After all, Avia had long prepared himself mentally for the worst-case scenario. Sincere emotions expressed through words found it difficult to change those who had held their beliefs for too long. Merely thinking in one's heart and praying endlessly could not change the world or reality. The longer decay existed, the more easily its essence was overlooked.

As for becoming Pope once again? Based on Avia's feelings in recent years, that would undoubtedly be extremely difficult. Not to mention that he still carried the identity of a "Hun."

Because the Ecumenical Council had developed a tendency to reject all rebuttals and innovative opinions, meaning one could not resist the vertical structure of those above, even the original reformists had begun switching sides. No matter how absurd an idea was, the person with the greatest authority would receive the support of the majority.

After all, those who imposed unreasonable rules and harmed others did not care about the people hurt by those unreasonable rules.

Thus, true and entirely new change could only be brought about through action that spilled blood.

"...Only bloodshed can bring change."

The silver-haired boy lay in the forest, looking up at the sky as the evening breeze stirred the leaves and produced soft rustling friction. Before long, the calls of unknown insects began to sound as well.

Though the sky was faintly lit by moonlight, there was not a single star in sight. It looked terribly empty.

In fact, besides killing Fafnir and bathing in its blood, Avia could also use the device left behind by the ancient giant god within the Giants' ruins.

In later generations, Charlemagne would travel everywhere in his youth. He would eventually arrive there with Altosfor, one of the Twelve Paladins, and come into contact with the stone carvings there. From them, he would learn of Attila's loneliness, regard her as an older sister, and realize that he himself was destined to unify Western Europe.

There was no question that obtaining the ruins left behind by the giant god that had nearly wiped out every pantheon of the Age of Gods would be incomparably valuable.

But Avia worried whether someone coming into contact with those ruins while Attila was still alive might have some effect on her...

So he abandoned that idea.

Though one of them was currently fourteen and the other twelve, Avia always felt as though he was Attila's teacher.

After all, back in the Hun tribe, the elders had been primarily responsible for teaching her. Yet the girl still came to find him from time to time. Perhaps his words could ease her loneliness to a certain extent.

Of course, it was also because Avia was the only person in the Hun tribe within their age group who could defeat her, so the white-haired girl was willing to listen to him.

After arriving in the Western Roman Empire three months ago, Attila's expectations had fallen through. Even though she attended lessons every day, she would return and repeat everything to Avia, then demand that he repeat it back to her before she considered herself to have learned it.

Avia thought that was rather nice as well. He hoped that the main body of the Harvest Star Vanguard on the Moon could be a little happier over the memories she had gained on the surface.

"Oh? Are you also a traveler wandering from place to place? It's so late. Staying in the forest won't be comfortable."

Avia picked up a bright green leaf from the water. It was one of several leaves floating along the river beside him.

Then he stood up, turned around, and offered it to the approaching young man.

He was not worried in the slightest about whether the man was a bandit or someone else intending to harm him. Ordinary bandits would not stroll over so openly.

"I don't have anything valuable, so I'll give you this. It's a gift from nature."

"My apologies, I was presumptuous. But I like this gift very much."

The apologetic speaker was a silver-haired young man, much like Avia. Regret flickered within his translucent green eyes. Notably, his face bore many untreated scratches.

He accepted the leaf Avia offered him and carefully held it in both hands as though it were a precious jewel. At the same time, he looked as if he were desperately trying to force out the right words.

"It's only a leaf. You could find one anywhere. I was just joking."

"That may be true, but this leaf symbolizes our first meeting. Moreover, you did not show displeasure at my rudeness and even gave me a gift... That is why I believe my intuition was correct. You are not merely a fellow traveler on the road, but someone who shines with justice."

The young man with countless scratches on his face spoke with great humility and gentleness. It was the first time he had encountered someone like this. This person's eyes differed from the eyes of everyone he had met before. Those azure eyes were like a deep blue sea, always tranquil whenever one looked closely, regardless of season or time.

They were not terrifying waves that devoured everything, but a gentleness that seemed to embrace all things.

To be honest, the humble young man was both astonished and delighted that he had encountered someone like this.

"Is that so? My name is Avia. What is yours?"

It had to be said that this man's words and attitude made Avia increasingly certain of the guess in his heart.

The young man placed the leaf against his chest, then smiled and nodded.

"Hello, Avia. My name is Siegfried."

When the Rising Sun Does Not Rise, It Is the Empty Solitude of Loneliness

"Avia, so you're a Hun."

The sky resembled a piece of deep blue silk, made dazzling by the stars scattered across it.

A bright moon silently rose, casting soft moonlight and draping the earth in silvery radiance. On this rain-washed night, the bonfire that had appeared in the forest from nowhere became an eye-catching focus.

In truth, Siegfried had heard of the Huns. The Empire's people called them barbarians. They avoided cities, saying those places were graves surrounded by nets.

Their lives were also extraordinarily rough. They ate half-cooked meat, chewed on wild grass roots, and did not care what kind of animal the meat came from. Their method of warming food was to place the meat between their thighs and their horses' backs.

Because of the mobile and scattered nature of their way of life, the Huns had developed an uninhibited national character.

The Roman historian Marcellinus, who died in 395 AD, had described them this way—