What should I do if the hero is resurrected in the Monster Girl Encyclopedia?

Chapter 127 Pantelekia

"Wow...what a grand welcome...is this how your old flame welcomes us, Lord Mirad?"

Siolitta produced a pair of jet-black crystal glasses from somewhere and put them on, the lenses reflecting the shattered sky illuminated by the Holy Sword's arrow. She deliberately dragged out the last syllable, as if humming an off-key song, "You don't need to stay here to help, run! Lord Milad and I... and Goat BBA are here to hold the fort."

She was obviously referring to the group of Medusas hiding behind the building.

The instant the arrow left the bowstring, their pale faces lifted simultaneously, their snake-like hair dancing wildly.

Dozens of petrifying demonic eyes focused simultaneously, attempting to diminish even a fraction of the immense magical power carried by the divine arrow that tore through the sky. But those gazes, powerful enough to instantly turn mortals into stone, failed to stir even a ripple when they collided with the aura flowing around the holy sword arrow, like a trickle flowing into the ocean.

The snakes exchanged glances, then slowly turned their serpentine bodies and silently slithered into the deeper and more distant shadows. Since the hero had no objections, they followed the succubus's advice... after all, some battlefields shouldn't have bystanders.

Throughout all of this, Mirad kept his head tilted back.

His gaze pierced through the approaching light and landed precisely on the pale green figure high in the sky.

“…Rilmeyer.”

He softly murmured the name.

The little girl who used to follow her around and meddle in everything has grown into a tall and awe-inspiring Valkyrie.

In his memory, she was still that child who pretended to be mature but would actually cry her heart out at parting. He never imagined that time would be so ruthless, shaping the girl into someone completely unfamiliar to him.

Even her mortal identity was abandoned... Two pairs of pure white wings, symbolizing her identity as a Valkyrie, slowly unfurled behind her, each feather as pure as new and untouched by a speck of dust.

Obora raised her hands, and dazzling golden runes intertwined to form a huge protective magic, trying to block the all-pervading and invincible sharpness. However, when the arrow touched her magic, it bloomed like a flower, and dozens of familiar sword lights shot out from it!

"...?"

Some unpleasant memories welled up from the bottom of her heart. Opola pursed her lips and expanded the size of the protective barrier to dozens of times its original size. Even though it would undoubtedly cause unnecessary waste of magic power, it was undoubtedly worth it!
“Mirad, let’s skip the reminiscing. There’s no doubt… you’ve been identified as an enemy.”

She couldn't help but remind the man beside her, who narrowed his eyes and nodded.

He sensed the killing intent emanating from the Valkyrie.

A pure and untainted killing intent, devoid of any other emotions.

No words were needed, and there was no room for negotiation. Mirad could tell from the palpable killing intent that emanated from them that their positions were now separated by an unbridgeable chasm.

...I never imagined such a day would come.

"Although I don't know the reason... it seems that the other party has given up on friendly negotiations. Let's first incapacitate them before making other plans."

Brilliant magic exploded above their heads, and the sword light collided fiercely with the defensive barrier created by Obola, bursting forth with countless dazzling magical flowers that bloomed in the sky above the wasteland!

"Captain! Valti has arrived on the battlefield... We're here to provide support! The target is the Resurrected Saint, right?"

"This is Dagre. It has been confirmed that the first arrow was ineffective. I have already calibrated the landing point for you, Captain... The next shot must be precise."

Four-winged figures appeared one after another in the air, each exuding an aura no less powerful than that of a top-tier warrior... Each one was a martial artist with unparalleled skills, having undergone countless trials and tribulations!
A single-handed sword tore through the air, a spear wrapped in golden lightning, a scimitar drew a crescent moon, a greatsword was engulfed in flames... Several different divinely forged weapons simultaneously struck the golden defensive barrier that was struggling to hold on amidst the sword light and was on the verge of collapse.

The defensive barrier crumbled the moment it came into contact with the combined attack, shattering into countless scattered points of light like glass!
"Hmm...it really is a complete Valkyrie squad...oh, it seems one is missing? Are they on another mission?"

Hiolitta adjusted her crooked glasses, her gaze sweeping over the gap in the aerial formation. "Hmph... But they're all country bumpkins from Heaven, unaware that the invincible Lord Hiolitta is guarding this place...!"

Your Highness, please don't try any of your tricks at a time like this...

Obora sighed, brushing away the scattered magical light. She could see the second divine arrow already drawn in the hand of the Valkyrie at the highest point… This nouveau riche's extravagant use of magic seemed familiar. “…There are still enemies.”

Mirad flicked his right wrist, extending a blade of light formed from magical energy.

He once walked through the treasure troves of the gods, gazing upon each of the precious objects displayed with eyes still tinged with a touch of naivety and curiosity.

A golden cup that can grant wishes unconditionally, a clay pot that can withstand a world-ending flood, a white lotus that once bloomed on the River of Memories, and a sword of faith that cuts out infinite holy light.

Any one of them, if placed in the human world, would be a treasure capable of overturning an era; each has a history so profound that it could crush the soul of an ordinary person.

Deep within the treasure vault, bound by heavy shackles, lay only a mecha forged from mortal metals. Though its form had been iterated to perfection, its self-sufficient energy supply allowed it to fight for a century in a completely magic-free vacuum, and its sophisticated computing core could process real-time data from three thousand battlefields simultaneously… it was still merely a treasure made by mortals, far too insignificant and uninteresting compared to those divinely crafted wonders.

Until that battle.

That was a humiliating and painful defeat for Him.

Still innocent, He was defeated by the combined forces of humans and demons. When He returned to his palace to lick his wounds, an unprecedented feeling called humiliation burned in His heart for the first time.

It was then that He remembered the mortal artifact deep within the treasure vault, the one He had scorned.

A perfect tool that requires no faith, no emotions, and only absolutely executes orders.

If used as a toy... it would be acceptable.

"...Dispatch clearance has been obtained. Suppression procedures for 'Resurrected Saint', 'Siolitta', and 'Mad Baphomet' shall now commence."

The cold, synthesized sound abruptly tore apart the noisy battlefield, like a frozen decree, causing the opposing forces to freeze in place.

Tang Tu appeared on the tense battlefield, a voice that could be heard.

It is not human; it has no trace of life.

It was not a monster, and it did not possess the sweet, cloying magic that Mirad was familiar with.

It was not a divine messenger; there was not a trace of faith in its body.

It was just a cold, enormous humanoid mecha made by mortals.

Standing approximately twenty meters tall, it resembled, to Mirad, a knight clad in bizarre full-body silver armor, its streamlined yet sharply angled armor seams emitting a faint blue glow. It had no face; its head was a completely unified curved surface, the only feature that could be considered an eye being a V-shaped band of crimson light running across its head.

At this moment, the beam of light was sweeping across the entire area, updating and iterating the magical reactions and physical data of every living being recorded, and adding them to its own database.

It does not fight for glory or faith, nor does it understand emotion or compassion.

It was merely deployed here as a tool to accomplish the absolute command of the primary task.

Its name is...

"Pantelkia, begin the operation."

(End of this chapter)