The Holy Sword Wielder Does Not Believe In God.

Chapter 1

Calm.

Quite an unusual adjective when describing a Japanese city, even at night.

Kamui wanders in the park, her dress covered in dirt as she used a simple spell to dry herself. She prefers to be covered in dirt than in mud.

She clenches and unclenches her left fist, testing her seemingly restored arm. The missing sleeve of her dress the only hint of her ever losing the pale limb.

There is nothing left of the wounds she suffered during her last skirmish, but the dried blood staining her clothes reassures her.

It was not a dream. She did it!

With a content sigh, she sits on one of the benches, looking right ahead as she tries to make sense of what happened.

She is not in Fuyuki, that is a certainty.

This means that she is not in immediate danger. She just need to hope that the outcome of the gruesome battle royal of Fuyuki does not doom them all.

Until then, Kamui needs to find a place to stay for at least two weeks. Last time she was conscious, they were already beginning the second week of festivities.

Yes, a two week stay should be enough for it to end. After that, she will just have to grab what little possessions she has and take care of the various nuisances that the Clocktower and the Church might send after her.

She rummages through her pockets, salvaging what survived the explosive encounter she partook in.

Her phone, in two distinct pieces...

Her ID, the top right corner having burned during the fight.

Two supermarket tickets she forgot to throw away.

A roll of medical bandages.

Her keys with a key-chain on which a random mascot is displayed.

'My Swiss knife...' Kamui laments, her hand going through the hole at the bottom of the pocket it was kept in.

She pockets everything before rearranging the hem of her dress.

Leaning back in the bench, Kamui crosses her arms and decides that it would be wise to sleep.

Well, more like meditate in her case. After her eighth birthday, she never dreamed again.

'You can never be careful enough.' She thinks as she closes her eyes, determined to replenish as much magical energy as possible.

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"Well, now or never." A young man mutters to himself as he stares at a pile of boxes.

His name is Nishijima Yuki, doujinshi artist.

Inside the box, there is everything he needs for the next Comiket.

"Only two more days..." He chuckles nervously. It will be his first time as an artist after all.

The saleswoman leans on the counter with a smile. "You can put some of those packages on the side and do the travel in two times, you know."

"Thank you ma'am, but I live just next door." He smiles awkwardly, the woman being quite the beauty.

She shrugs. "As you wish."

With a huff, he picks them up, making his way to the automatic doors. "Thank you again!"

"Good luck." She smirks as he almost loses balance.

People make way as he struggles to keep the boxes on top of each other.