Diary of Guarding Monster Girls

"At that time, I was so faithful, so firmly believing in you... But when did this devotion change?"

She even forgot the honorific name of the Evil God they had destroyed but clearly remembered her devotion at that moment.

"I once so firmly believed in you, once so devoutly worshipped you."

Luhier pondered, suddenly feeling the impulse to clarify her thoughts, to explore her memories once again.

"But what was it that changed?"

...

That time, it was following the fanatic believers of the Sun Church in purging a city-state fully corrupted by the Fallen cult.

The actions were no longer led by Angels but by mortal believers under the guidance of divine oracle in a ’holy war.’

Luhier’s task was oversight, ensuring no extra ’evil’ escaped.

And the so-called limit was defined by divine oracle, cold and absolute.

The efficiency of the fanatics was astonishing.

They wore silver armor engraved with sun runes and wielded weapons burning with white flame, systematically cleaning every street, every building.

The defiant cultists screamed as they turned to ash in the Holy Flame.

Those deeply eroded by shadows, undergoing horrific mutations, were also mercilessly purified.

Luhier floated in mid-air, watching the fire blaze below, her face hidden beneath her helmet, expressionless.

There was no reason for compassion.

This was a city filled with sin.

The city had long been corrupted, devoid of true innocence within.

Even the Archangel would not display any personal emotions.

Angels are manifestations of the Divine will, the blade in Their hands.

Luhier had always believed this.

Until—she saw a squad of soldiers break open a hidden cellar door.

Screams erupted, not of evil curses but of pure, human fear.

A emaciated Fallen was dragged out, with only a faint aura of corruption, likely from consuming tainted food or drinking impure water.

According to the law of the Sun, such beings can be gradually purified through isolation, prayer, and drinking Holy Water, or... be directly purified.

From beneath the face mask of the fanatic came a cold voice:

"Contamination confirmed; they need to be purified!"

And so, swords and blades enveloped in Holy Flame were raised.

Just then, a small figure stumbled out from the depths of the cellar—a child, no more than five years old, clutching a dirty, ragged doll made of torn cloth.

He was terrified, not caring about anything else, only crying to reach out for the hand of the man about to be executed.

But faced with the wailing and pleading of those harboring heretics, the fanatics would not soften their hearts.

The blade fell, and blood splattered.

Perhaps it was the child’s pleas, or perhaps the Fallen did not truly deserve death.

He was not decapitated but merely had both hands severed.

Although for a mortal with no other means, losing both hands meant losing the ability to labor, becoming completely useless.

Yet, he was at least spared his life.

Luhier witnessed all this from high in the sky, but she did not stop the fanatics’ judgment.

That did not comply with the rules.

There was no reason to do so.

"..."

Only, for some reason, witnessing this scene, Luhier felt an unprecedented sensation.

When the blade fell, even though Luhier’s expression remained calm, her fingers tightened suddenly, and her wings trembled slightly, almost ready to swoop down.

And at that moment, an invisible yet heavy will, like the coldest Shackles of light, suddenly descended upon her.

It wasn’t a voice, not a reprimand, but an absolute, unquestionable gaze.

From far above, from the Sun she served.

Luhier stopped.

Like a specimen nailed in the air.

The Archangel remained silent for a long time but couldn’t help but lift her head in the end.

She gazed at the sky where there were no Divine eyes, only an icy, burning Sun, emanating absolute "justice" yet devoid of warmth.

The light stung her eyes, as if threatening to burn everything dry.

For the first time, she clearly felt that, deep within that warm radiance, something had become hard, cold, and rejected any form of distortion.

...

"Right, it was from that moment I realized that He truly changed."

"But back then, I only suspected my own fault, constantly pondering where the oversight was."

Luhier ceased her recollection and completely opened her eyes.

"As for the moment that truly made me realize the one with the problem was you, not me... No, I actually always knew."

No need to recall anymore.

Luhier now fully remembered—what ultimately decided her path to Fallen.

...

It was a giant.

It once was a rampaging tyrant everywhere, ravaging valleys beyond the mountains, committing innumerable sins.

But at some point, it settled at the mountain pass, miraculously no longer disturbing nearby villages, even... faintly becoming some sort of protector.

Perhaps it was because it had grown old, becoming less irritable, no longer wishing to harm others.

It had repelled raiding wolf packs, scared away greedy slave traders.

The mountain people still feared it, yet depended on it.

It thought it would quietly wait for death to come.

But that day...

Luhier and her combat squad found it.

The giant sat in the wind of the pass, its massive body covered in old scars and fresh claw marks, looking at the smoke-rising small village below with eyes lacking rage, only a deep fatigue.

Even when facing the Servants of the Sun, it did not show malice, merely rising silently and stepping towards the distance.

Luhier raised the Holy Sword, light began to gather.

Her eyes held no hesitation.

Even if this giant was performing some ’good deeds,’ the sins it committed in the past would not vanish with the sudden enlightenment of a villain.

It still had to pay the price for past crimes.

But at that moment, she hesitated again.

She could feel that the evil essence boiling within this creature was indeed never eradicated, like a dormant volcano, yet it also... protected something.

From the village, the sound of running children came with the wind, the villagers called towards the slowly departing giant, as if bidding farewell.

At least, not here—Luhier thought so.

"Lord Angel? What are you waiting for?"

The adjutant behind her voiced a question.

"..."

Luhier hesitated, pondering how to respond.

And just as she prepared, a blazing white spear tore through the air, piercing the giant’s eye socket precisely and ruthlessly—the youngest and most fervent adjutant at her side acted immediately, without receiving a reply.

Following divine oracle.

Without mercy.

The giant let out an earth-shattering roar, one more filled with pain and a sense of betrayed anger than pure rage.

Its massive body swayed like a collapsing mountain, dying madness causing it to swing its arms wildly.

It wanted to step forward, but more angelic spears struck its body, forcing it uncontrollably backward.

"No!"

Luhier shouted sharply, but it was already too late.

The giant’s heavy form lost balance and fell, crashing directly onto the small village it had just been gazing at.

Boom—

The earth shook.

Dust surged skyward, mixed with cries and screams crushed immediately.

When the dust slightly dissipated, only the giant’s corpse remained and a thoroughly flattened, buried ruin below. Strands of black smoke rose from the gaps in the debris, like the Earth’s silent lament.

Serenity and peace vanished, leaving only wails and pain.

"..."

Luhier froze in the air, the light on the Holy Sword long extinguished.

She stared at the ruin, then suddenly lifted her head, gazing at the high hanging, indifferent Sun.

No explanations, no regrets, no remorse for the collateral damage.

Only a new, cold will urging them to purify the next evil.

.

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