The so-called pride of a hero, was it?
"But your body!"
Mash looked at the seemingly unscathed Sigurd in astonishment.
—Just now, when the sun had fallen and Surtr's soul had completely escaped, Sigurd's body, which had served as a temporary vessel, had already been utterly shattered.
Yet now, he stood here without a scratch.
[Yes, Sigurd's body was destroyed.]
[However, someone unexpected helped Sigurd maintain his body once more.]
[I'm right, aren't I?]
[The one standing over there—the last Valkyrie command unit of Scandinavia, Lady Ortlinde.]
Everyone turned to look behind them.
The black Valkyrie stood there calmly, though there was a trace of hesitation on her face.
"...Yes."
She nodded.
"I used runes. It happened suddenly, but I succeeded somehow."
"An unnatural gap appeared during the collapse, as though the phenomenon had been rewound. I'm not entirely sure what is happening right now."
The phenomenon had been rewound?
Could it have been Miss Ophelia?
Mash's pupils narrowed slightly, but she said nothing.
"I seized that opportunity to reassemble his Spirit Core. My output had already reached its limit, so I couldn't do any better. I'm sorry."
"His Saint Graph... can probably only hold together for another two minutes at most."
As she spoke, she looked at Sigurd helplessly.
Though he appeared to be fine, Sigurd himself was still shattered. He could only stand here because Ortlinde had temporarily mended him.
His total collapse was not far off.
"At least that's enough time for me to use my demonic sword once. Thank you, little sister."
Sigurd smiled and thanked Ortlinde.
"...Don't thank me. I didn't do this for you."
Ortlinde's gaze darkened briefly before sharpening.
"If—if you truly are that hero, then please, for my sister—!"
"In any case, that is my wish."
After saying that, Ortlinde lowered her