"Thanks for the rescue, Fujimaru, Mash, and… Hero King Gilgamesh, right?"
"If you wish to honor me, fulfill your duties. That's payment enough."
"U-Understood."
"Pfft, Mash, look at the high-and-mighty Director groveling to Gil!"
"I can hear you, senpai!"
"And you, Fujimaru Rikka! Why are you the Master here?! I get the Rayshift, but why is Mash a Servant?! Explain!"
"Nope."
"What?!"
"Fujimaru, don't tease the Director. She's, you know, prickly and bad with people…"
"What's that supposed to mean?! My social life is irrelevant! Ugh, why am I alone?! Lev! Where's Lev?!"
Rikka laughs, Olga Marie fumes, Mash panics.
"In better times, their banter would be heartwarming," Romani muses.
"No helping it. Expecting warrior resolve from those girls is harsh. The battlefield will sharpen their instincts," I say.
"You're awfully lenient. In a good mood, or do you see something in them?"
"See something, huh?"
Rikka, the self-proclaimed Master, has potential. Laughing in the face of death, staring down an unseen future, stepping over despair—her tenacity is the opposite of my past life's complacency. I'd never admit it; she'd get cocky.
Mash, too, has merit. She constantly rallies herself, pushing her trembling heart and body to fight with courage. Acknowledging her fear, she struggles forward.
Physical strength is trivial now. The will to face hardship is the true guide to the future. Whether she realizes it is questionable.
"Looking after fledglings isn't bad. Protecting an imperfect Master is part of the job."
"I was worried she couldn't control a mighty Servant like you, but it seems unfounded," Romani says, his tone softening, showing a hint of trust.
"I sense no tyrant in you now. A once-in-a-millennium stroke of luck. I hope it lasts."
"Hmph. You're not allowed to falter either, doctor. Sending those girls to the front lines means you owe them effort and devotion. No slacking. I'll forgive carelessness and arrogance, though."
A warning for this flippant man. His words lack heat, making him hard to trust fully.
"You hit where it hurts, King. Of course, I'll do my duty. That's my fight."
His sincerity shines through. Untrustworthy, but reliable. I can't read his true intent, but he's dependable enough to watch my back.
"Keep at it…"
The issue lies with me, the Servant.
That lingering unease from the last battle—I couldn't shake it. It felt like I fundamentally misunderstood how to fight.
"Doctor, my class is Archer, correct?"
"Yup, your Spirit Origin's registered as Archer. Why?"
"Archers use bows, don't they?"
"Well, yeah, that's why it's called Archer."
"I see… a bow."
A bow. In the last fight, I used melee and a random sword to clear the mob, not a bow.
That's the unease. An Archer who didn't use a bow. It fits.
My past life was an ordinary person, never on a battlefield. I lack combat instincts.
"Next, I'll wield a bow in battle. That's what an Archer does."
"A self-imposed challenge? Got spare time, Hero King?" Romani teases.
"Fool. It's deliberation. A challenger's mindset is key."
"Such a positive Hero King?!"
His reactions are always exaggerated.
I can't slack on training. This bland soul in Gilgamesh's vessel must aim to match its grandeur.
"Yo, Gil! Time to move!" Rikka waves from a distance, the chatter winding down.
"Your summon awaits, King," Romani says.
"Spirited girl. Let's go…"
—In that instant—
A piercing killing intent hits me.
"Rikka! Duck!"
"Wha—"
"Senpai!"
My shout and an arrow speeding toward Rikka happen simultaneously.