Taming the Evil Saintess

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“Elliot?”

“Yes.”

“…Are you angry?”

“I’m not particularly angry.”

After exiting the blacksmith’s, Ophelia scrutinized Elliot’s face.

He was holding the sword Olmen had just given him. The golden sword, known as the Holy Sword, even appeared to be a peerless masterpiece in Ophelia’s narrow perception.

Yet, Elliot’s expression remained gloomy. Though he claimed to be fine, the displeasure was evident in his tone.

Ophelia realized that he had an instinctive hostility toward Geldmier, the knight of the Demon King’s Army.

What kind of connection could he have with a high-ranking officer of the Demon King? What could have happened? Could it be that they were enemies of the family? She longed to ask but found Elliot’s face too intimidating.

He looked similar to someone she had seen in Lauren Village.

It was somewhat frightening.

“Ugh, cough.”

Ophelia tried to attract Elliot’s attention with a cute cough. Instead of reacting, he merely tapped the scabbard of the Holy Sword.

A chime, as sweet as a bell, rang out.

Eventually, Elliot softened his expression and turned his head towards Ophelia.

“Ophelia.”

“What is it?”

“I apologize for saying this, but I have a request.”

A request.

How often had Elliot asked her for a favor?

He was the kind of foolish child who bore everything alone.

The fact that Elliot was asking her for something was proof that he somewhat trusted her.

Feeling a bit prideful, Ophelia beamed and puffed out her chest.

“What is it? Just tell me; I’m here to help. No need to hesitate.”

“Is that so? Shouldn’t I hold back?”

“Absolutely not.”

At Ophelia’s response, Elliot’s eyes widened slightly as he picked up the sword.

“Then, would you be my training partner for a moment?”

“…Huh?”

“It’s nothing serious. Just maintain a barrier with Holy Magic. I want to test the sword’s performance.”

“…”

Ophelia instinctively sensed she had made a massive mistake.

“Ohhh…”

Olmen sighed as he gazed at the clearing outside the village.

Boom!

A loud noise echoed.

The golden barrier, formed by Holy Magic, wavered as if it would burst, and a slender figure was sent flying. Dust clouded the ground.

Soon, a dust-covered figure, namely Saint Ophelia Meredein, got up and let out a holler.

“Stop it! Damn you!”

“Just a little further.”

“What do you mean ‘a little’? You’ve been saying that for an hour!”

“It’s just a bit.”

With those words, Elliot stepped closer and swung the sword with the scabbard still on. A thunderous crash resonated, shaking the ground. While Ophelia barely managed to block the overwhelming physical power, she found herself kneeling on the floor from the impact.

Before she could say anything, Elliot lunged again, striking the barrier. The ground where Ophelia stood sank a hand’s breadth. Spark. Another flash of light gleamed. Despite being swung with the scabbard, the sword, crafted with utmost care by Olmen, caused tremendous destruction.

“Ugh.”

Olmen sighed softly.

It was a gratifying sight to see the sword he had forged perform as intended.

Yes. That’s a good thing.

…

However.

The story changed if that sword was brutally hitting an innocent girl.

Moreover, Olmen knew that this woman was the saintess of the continent.

So…

Whack!

The hero…

Boom!

With the Holy Sword…

Bang!

Was beating the saintess.

“Idmien.”

Olmen said, as Idmien had approached him, looking pale while watching the one-sided violence unfold.

“I seriously started to wonder if I made a good choice.”

“Hahaha…”

Olmen was merely curious about what kind of thoughts the god must have had to bestow the Hero’s Divine Mark upon such a vicious being.

“So…”

Olmen turned his gaze toward his disciple, Idmien.

“Is this kind of man a good one?”

“…Hmm.”

Idmien watched Ophelia as she was struck by the sword, then shrugged.

“I really don’t want to be a beaten wife.”

That was the truth.

…

“Ugh! Damn it! Don’t talk to me, you piece of trash!”

“But Ophelia said it was okay to ask.”

“Shut up!”

Ophelia was thoroughly upset.

She was so mad that even Laila’s attempts to soothe her with all sorts of food were completely ineffective.

Bang! The inn room door slammed shut, and the sound of the bolt being secured was audible.

It seemed unlikely they would let her out until late at night.

“You’re really something else, you know.”

Laila said, watching all this unfold from inside with a look of disbelief, and I shrugged my shoulders.

There was no particular reason for choosing Ophelia as a test subject for the sword’s power. She simply caught my eye, and her white hair reminded me of a lab rat.

I certainly controlled my strength. As evidence, Ophelia had no wounds on her body. I wasn’t inflicting direct violence since I was testing against a barrier.

However, I could imagine that being tossed around like this couldn’t have been pleasant.

“I should get her something nice later.”

“Well, it seems like the saintess really follows your words.”

“That’s not quite it.”

“In my eyes, it seems that way. You’re abusing the saintess’s goodwill too much. Handle her delicately, like you would a girl of that age. You know, there’s that saying. Don’t hit a woman, even with a flower. But you’re smacking her with a Holy Sword.”

…

Isn’t Ophelia’s personality a bit too rough for that?

She might have softened a bit lately, but her mouth was still foul.

Comparing her to the original Ophelia, the difference was still like heaven and earth.

Well, it’s not like I should be talking about it.

“I’ll treat her well.”

“Good luck with that.”

Ignoring Laila’s snark, I sheathed the Holy Sword.

I had sufficiently confirmed its performance.

It was nothing short of excellent, undoubtedly the best weapon I had ever seen.

With this level of power, I could wield the Hero’s Divine Mark without hesitation. If I were to face Azar again, I could predict an 80% chance of victory.

“Hey, Laila.”

I tightened my grip on the sword and grimaced.

She tilted her head.

“Why the long face?”

“Geldmier that guy.”

“Oh.”

“He was a pay-to-win warrior.”

That was a rather significant betrayal.

I had always thought there was an insurmountable gap between myself and Geldmier, convinced I could never win.

But after swinging the Holy Sword, I realized my assumptions were wrong.

Of course, I wouldn’t feel confident facing Geldmier again right now. However, if I collected various artifacts, including the Holy Sword, and trained with my allies, defeating him wouldn’t be such an unrealistic story.

“What’s a pay-to-win warrior?”

“That’s a thing.”

I brushed off her question and turned away.

“Let’s go.”

“Where to?”

“To spar, obviously.”

Having gotten a rough idea about Ophelia, I planned to have more intensive training with Laila.

She willingly accepted but scrutinized my expression, scratching her eyelid.

“Uh… I don’t want to die.”

“I’ll control my strength, don’t worry.”

Probably.

…

Life in the Demon King’s Castle followed the same routine every day.

Especially for the One-Eyed Knight Geldmier, it was even more so.

His daily life was simple. It began with swinging his sword and ended with swinging his sword.

Swish!

The crimson blade carved a path through the air.

A near-supernatural movement. The air split, and the sound began to follow behind.

Swoosh.

“….”

Just another day.

However, Geldmier realized that the sensation of swinging his sword felt different than usual and lifted one corner of his mouth.

“Heh.”

“What’s up? Feeling off today or something?”

Idmien, sitting cross-legged and rummaging through the body of a dog, teased.

Geldmier shook his head and deeply embedded his sword into the ground.

“It seems that blacksmith is up to something.”

“Up to something?”

“Sangwyn is trembling.”

“Sangwyn.” That was the name Geldmier had given to the sword he received from Olmen.

True to its name, Sangwyn was a cursed sword imbued with a sinister crimson aura.

And now that Sangwyn was trembling wildly.

Geldmier knew the reason behind it.

“It seems it’s resonating with its twin sword.”

“Twin sword? There was a twin to that sword?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know until now. And it seems that sword has found a fitting owner.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Hmm.”

The concept of danger held no weight for Geldmier.

If anything, he was rather intrigued at the prospect of a new adversary.

“This might be enjoyable.”

“I can’t understand your way of thinking at all. Fight-loving fool.”

Idmien sighed softly, then as if remembering something, changed the subject.

“Oh, and I looked into that guy named Elliot, just as you said.”

Two possessors were dead.

In fact, one of them was a swordsman.

Idmien felt a significant sense of crisis at that fact and investigated Elliot’s background, including any suspicious aspects.

And Geldmier shared Idmien’s interest in the name Elliot. His eyes gleamed as he leaned forward.

“That guy was part of the mercenary group, right?”

“Black Eagle Mercenary.”

“Yeah. Just a group made up entirely of slaves and ex-convicts—essentially a suicide squad.”

During his investigation, Idmien discovered a peculiar detail.

“We captured slaves with decent bodies to summon our possessors, right?”

“That was the Demon King’s command.”

“Exactly.”

By the Demon King’s order, they had captured slaves born with decent physiques across the continent, branding them and conjuring other souls to confine within them.

Thus, they had summoned fifty possessors.

By now, only half of them remained, but the information spread by the possessors was immensely helpful in the ongoing conflict.

“There were a few escapees among them.”

“Was there?”

“You wouldn’t know. I didn’t either. However, it might be a coincidence, but…”

“What do you mean ‘might be?'”

“One of them bore a resemblance to the light-blonde youth. Doesn’t that look like that Elliot fellow? Also, when we asked the possessors we called forth, they said they never heard the name Elliot in their game.”

“That’s true.”

Moreover, he was from the Black Eagle Mercenary.

If he had escaped from the Demon King’s Castle and ended up in that southern place, he would have been taken in by the barrier and joined the Black Eagle Mercenary.

“You mean… he was one of the escapee slaves?”

“That’s just a guess, though.”

Of course, Idmien was confident in this.

He asserted firmly.

“Who knows? The unstable possession consciousness might’ve succeeded late.”