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

Chapter 198 The Heart Remains Unbroken, the Barrier Flawless
The crimson flames dancing between Kieslfield's fingers instantly solidified. She lightly touched the ground with her toes, took a step forward, and a wave of intense heat surged around her, completely shattering her previously relaxed posture.

"To bring the children from the orphanage under our wing..."

The words she uttered between her teeth were chilling: "Is it like what the older man said, losing oneself, becoming one with one mind?"

In the cramped room, the air began to distort, and the wooden walls crackled slightly under the intense heat. Obora subtly shifted half a step to the side, erecting a cooling magical barrier around Kieslfield.

"I have nothing to say."

Saint Gard slammed the flag he was holding into the wooden floor.

The instant the flagpole touched the ground, a warm white light flooded the entire space like a tide, and a translucent film of light rose from the surfaces of all objects. The violent heatwave, crashing against the shimmering walls, miraculously lost its heat and sharpness.
"This is the indestructible banner of the heart. If my heart is not dead, then nothing can destroy it."

Kissfield suddenly chuckled, her fiery red hair moving without wind. "Thank you. Still thinking of protecting the orphanage… as expected of Lady St. Gard. Then let me test whether your heart can withstand my flames!"

The moment the words left her lips, blazing crimson flames engulfed the raised round shield. Without Opola's cooling magic and the opponent's indestructible spirit, the orphanage they inhabited would undoubtedly have exploded into ashes the instant the flames appeared!
"Haha, not bad... let's do it again!"

A fiery smile curved Kieslfeld's lips, her eyes burning with intense fighting spirit. Though her usual spear was not at hand, the crimson flames flowing from her fingertips had solidified into an even more ferocious weapon... The Flame Spear, with a piercing shriek that tore through the air, traced dozens of crimson streaks in the confined space!
Saint Gard's round shield wove a silver light curtain before him, each block scattering sparks as brilliant as meteors. The torrential thrusts of the flaming spears collided with the flowing holy runes, scattering like waves crashing against rocks.

"It's no use." Saint Gard's voice pierced through the blazing light.

"Within my mental range, I will not be harmed; any attack will be futile."

Kissfield suddenly changed tactics, her flaming spear coiling around the edge of the shield like a venomous snake. The speed far exceeded the previous dozens of thrusts. Saint Gard tried to block with his old habits and experience, but he missed without a doubt!
The scorching spear tip suddenly exploded as it grazed the edge of the shield, engulfing both of them in blazing flames.

Kieslfeld slowly emerged from the surging flames, her hair dripping with molten gold-like light, her long, fiery-colored twin ponytails standing out even more brilliantly against the crimson flames.

"Hmm... harder than an old man. Are all you saints this difficult to deal with?"

"Without such power, one cannot protect those one cherishes."

Saint Gard looked down at his breastplate, which had been scorched by Kissfield's flames and emitted an ominous red glow. It was now slowly cooling down and returning to its original cool state.

Are you fighting for someone you cherish?

Obora brushed aside the swirling flames that were obstructing her view. Her petite body was completely unaffected by the clash between Kieslfeld and Saint Gard. The intense flames naturally dispersed three feet in front of her, without even stirring her loose hair.

Her small, white hands twirled her long, jet-black hair, and her golden eyes stared directly into Saint Garde's eyes without any hesitation. "Or do you agree with that angel's original intention... to place the command above the living heartbeats of the children next door?"

"...Who are you? You're so young, yet you've mastered such advanced magic... The world is really developing now."

Saint Gard's shield trembled slightly, and the next moment, the edge of the shield drew a silver-white light trail, smashing straight towards Kieslfeld's cheek!
The flag, with imperceptible speed, lowered its front section and thrust its spearhead towards Obora's chest!

Fight on two fronts, attack simultaneously!
At the last second, Kissfield leaned back and retreated, her flaming spear barely blocking the heavy shield attack. She clicked her tongue and raised her hand to sweep away the round shield that had almost disfigured her. Taking advantage of the momentum, she kicked out with a high kick, her flaming boot heel aimed at St. Gard's wide-open abdomen!
Obora neither dodged nor evaded, letting the spear tip at the top of the flag pierce her chest... no, the trembling spear tip ultimately failed to penetrate even half an inch, merely touching her collar before stopping in mid-air.

Kissfield's flying kick struck the target squarely in the abdomen. But the saint, struck by the blow, only swayed slightly, remaining as firm as a rock, her shield not even shifting an inch.

Glancing at Obora's condition, Kissfield smiled. "...Unwilling to hurt us, yet unwilling to abandon the mission, and still hoping to protect the children?"

"I…"

Saint Gard smiled wryly, “He is indeed a greedy person, and also an indecisive one. He is truly unworthy of the title of saint.”

After witnessing the corruption and depravity of the country, Rescue almost immediately chose to turn against Him, tearing up the agreement, and fighting to the end even if it meant being stripped of his personality.

Needless to say, even though he was stripped of his power and left with only an empty shell of memories, he still guided the path for the resurrected saint. Death was also... a fulfillment of his wish.

She is different.

She couldn't achieve Rescueille's ruthlessness in cutting off everything, nor did she possess Adalfonso's fearless acceptance of death.

She lingered in the sound of children's laughter in the morning light, reveled in the aroma of stew wafting from the chimneys, and even occasionally, on rainy days, she would secretly enjoy a warm cup of cheap tea.

Historical records document her achievements in recovering lost territory.

The poem sings of her heroic figure holding the battle flag high.

The scriptures praise her unwavering piety.

“I once raised my banner, vowing to cleanse the world of injustice and grievance. But when I truly stood at the crossroads of fate, I found myself unable to fully accept His will, nor able to sever all ties and abandon everything like Rescuetier…” St. Garde’s fingers traced the edge of her shield, the fleur-de-lis swaying gently above her head.

"I want to protect the children's laughter, yet I don't want to break the agreement I signed. I long to continue basking in the warm sunshine, yet I can't turn a blind eye to the cries of sorrow in the shadows... I hope you two will forgive my shabby and wavering stance."

In a daze, Saint Gard recalled the matter discussed when the resurrected saint arrived.

She answered as Sister Joanna, admitting that she preferred the era in which St. Gard lived.

...Now she has to admit that she is indeed missing it.

I miss those days when flags were clearly drawn, and blood and fire raged. The wars of that time were brutal yet pure, and political struggles were not as intricate as they are today. There was no need to struggle in a web of countless rules and positions.

A thousand years of peace, like flowing water, has smoothed away the rough edges of history.

Some sharpness has been worn down, some passion has been cooled. When the world no longer needs swords to be raised at all times, even saints are forced to dance in shackles and fetters, every move guided by invisible threads, powerless in the face of a corrupt world.

The flames from the spear dissipated, and Kissfield sighed softly, the burning fighting spirit in her eyes gradually cooling. "It's not that I'm laughing... more like I can't laugh at all. Lord St. Gard, with you acting like this, I don't even know how to continue..."

She turned to her companion and asked, "Miss Obora, what do you think?"

At some point, Obora brought over a high-backed chair, propped herself up on it with her hands, and swung her short, fleshy legs back and forth. Her eyes were fixed on Saint Gard. "...Based on current speculation, your body is currently composed of pure divine magic, and the memories and knowledge in your mind are all copies of the original. In other words... Sister Joanna, you are now a vessel without a soul."

"I do not deny it."

Saint Gard replied.

Since it was the other party who brought it up first, His information control wasn't as strict. Knowing this situation, He undoubtedly took it into His view; the holy runes on the surface of the Saint Garde shield flickered, reflecting her composed demeanor.

That is the truth. These saints and heroes are merely collections of memories and knowledge relinquished by the original being when it entered into a pact with Him for various reasons. Like wine contained in a Holy Grail, even if it reflects the entire starry sky, it is ultimately just a reflection.

"I understand. So, after you return to the Celestial Realm, will your memories of the mortal world, those times spent with the children, also disappear?"

St. Garde remained silent for a long time, his hand gripping the flagpole trembling slightly, and the flag that had stood firm tilted slightly.

"I...did not know."

Opola looked at Kieslfield beside her, "Kieslfield."

"Hmm? What's wrong, Miss Obora?"

“I was once just as indecisive as Miss St. Gard, wanting everything and unwilling to give up anything… No, I still am now, and I often fall into the same struggle.”

"...It doesn't sound so bad,"

Kissfield tilted her head and smiled, "Who isn't like that? That's how a living person should be."

A faint smile played on Obola's lips. "Yes. So... Saint Gard. Hold the banner tight, fight to the last moment, live up to the name of the saint, and don't worry about retreat or what will happen after you."

...No need to consider a way out, no need to consider what will happen after death?
Saint Garde blinked; the other person's wording seemed a little unusual... Was it what she thought it meant?

"...I understand."

She smiled faintly and nodded. The confusion in her eyes faded slightly, replaced by a clear resolve. Regardless of whether the other person's words were true or false, Saint Gard would not let her guard down in the battle to come.

The next second, countless banners of light tore through the wooden floor, rising like a pure white forest. Each banner surged with boundless holy magic, illuminating the entire room like a sanctuary. In this dazzling radiance, Saint Gard released the round shield, letting it fall... The shield vanished into points of light before hitting the ground.

The flag she had been holding shattered with a snap, transforming into streams of light that coiled around her wrist. As the last ray of light entered her fist, Saint Gard took a step forward, and beneath her feet unfolded a magnificent iris emblem.

"With the flag as proof..."

She adopted an ancient boxing stance, a technique without a teacher, a skill that a girl named Joanna had mastered on her own through countless battles!

The flowing light formed a vortex at the knuckles, making it look no different from the pure white boxing gloves!
"These clenched fists represent my unyielding will."

(End of this chapter)