Taming the Evil Saintess

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Laila, the Dragonkin Warrior, took in the dazzling and beautiful battle unfolding before her eyes.

The Cutlass, imbued with a crimson sword energy, swung rapidly, but all those strikes were effortlessly blocked by just one sword. The fluidity of the sword strikes was so fast that an ordinary person would have difficulty following with their eyes.

“You’ve gotten stronger. Just how much of a monster are you trying to become?”

The last time Laila had seen Elliot fight was several years ago.

Back when they were part of the Northern Black Eagle Mercenary Group, the monster who could split monsters in two with a cheap iron sword seemed to have fully blossomed into his talents as a Hero now.

Unlike Gersen, who was struggling to attack with all his might, Elliot stood his ground firmly, his body like an impregnable fortress, absorbing his assaults.

It wasn’t just about taking hits either. With seamless variations in his swordsmanship, Elliot dodged Gersen’s strikes without breaking a sweat, and with the openings created, he countered with almost every technique a single sword could show.

The surrounding mercenaries, who considered themselves somewhat skilled, watched Elliot’s godlike swordplay in awe, their mouths agape in shock.

For them, it would serve as a manual they couldn’t even buy.

“Kuugh!”

However, the problem was that this intense spar was taking place indoors.

Though spacious and sturdy, this was still a wooden building.

With each clash of sword energies, shockwaves sent nearby tables crashing against the walls, and the successive gusts of wind shattered glass bottles and mugs behind the bartender.

But more than the suffering of the staff cleaning up this chaos, Laila was worried about the safety of the two combatants in front of her.

“That’s a mindset aiming for murder…”

Laila smirked at Elliot, whose face resembled that of a ghost as he wielded his sword.

Having fought alongside Elliot often during her time with the Northern Black Eagle Mercenary Group, Laila couldn’t help but notice that he wore a similar expression to when he was slaying monsters.

“A battle to the death, they say.”

Elliot was clearly fighting with the intent to kill Mercenary King Gersen.

What about Gersen, though?

His face twisted into a smile tainted with competitiveness and the awareness of facing a strong adversary.

If one were to consider their aggressive and reckless personalities, these two would rank among the upper echelons on the continent. Their serious exchange meant this fight wasn’t going to end easily, not without someone losing a limb.

Of course, neither of them was incapable of reasoning, but pride could sometimes blind one.

As the brawl dragged on, Saint Ophelia, nearby, began to pace anxiously and tugged at Laila’s sleeve.

“Hey, hey! Lizard! Do something!”

“I… I don’t know, getting involved there is…”

“That’s a death sentence!”

The follow-up remark came from another mercenary who had approached.

A middle-aged man with black hair and a long scar across one eye sighed while watching the battle between Gersen and Elliot.

“Your leader’s fiery temperament hasn’t changed at all.”

“Who the heck are you?”

“Calling me ‘who the heck’ is a bit much for a little lady.”

“What? You blind scum! I’m not a little girl!”

The black-haired man frowned at Ophelia’s sharp remarks, while Laila shrugged and tapped his back lightly.

“Come on, calm down. This guy’s my friend.”

“Friend?”

“A comrade from the Black Eagle days. Georg, long time no see.”

Georg raised one hand in greeting at Laila’s introduction, continuing to speak as a warrior from the old Black Eagle Mercenary Group.

“I came to watch the Mercenary King fight some weirdo, and turns out it’s our leader.”

“Haha, surprising, right? I’m surprised too.”

“Well, since both of you like fights, it’s not too shocking, but still, meeting after six years in a situation like this does fit our leader.”

Ophelia found the casual conversation between the two infuriating.

She chewed on her thumbnail, glaring at Elliot.

She was certainly happy that Elliot was fighting for her. When she heard the tip-off from Laila, her cheeks had flushed so red she could barely lift her head.

But doing that in front of hundreds of people was the problem!

“T-That damn lunatic…”

Embarrassed, Ophelia had to endure the glaring stares directed at her.

Did that idiot even care about how others looked? He certainly didn’t in the hearings, nor did he when they were in the Ice Palace. She wished he would just pay more attention to the crowd’s atmosphere.

Because the shame always fell on Ophelia.

“Tch.”

If she had known this would happen, she should have brought the Sword Saint or Golden Lion, or at least the Ice Warrior.

But it was already too late, and the situation was deteriorating.

“Who’s calling who a little brat?”

In the end, Ophelia decided that she had to step in herself.

She needed to put a stop to this fight one way or another. Even if it meant using an unjust method.

Ophelia rolled up the long sleeves of her fur outfit and took out a Branch of the World Tree from her inventory.

As a note, this branch was a powerful weapon, having been enhanced by the Seed of the World Tree, that had previously tormented even the Golden Lion during shield technique training.

Holding the branch tightly, she stepped slowly into the center of the conflict.

“Saint Lady. You’ll get hurt if you get any closer.”

“Shut it.”

Ophelia turned with fiery eyes to Laila, sticking out her tongue.

“Right now, I’m stronger than you, you know?”

Strong-weak-weak-strong.

That was Ophelia’s identity.

*

I swung my sword in a trance.

I had already grown accustomed to Gersen’s attacks. After exchanges numbering in the hundreds, I had a clear grasp of his habits and weaknesses in sword energy.

If I committed, I could plunge the Holy Sword into Gersen’s heart right now.

But I hesitated.

…

It all started because Gersen had mocked Ophelia. If he weren’t Gersen, the Named, I might have killed him in a single stroke.

But the Mercenary King Gersen needed to be our strong ally. If I killed him over personal feelings, that would have serious repercussions as well.

Even killing Shadow of God Benedict, who attempted to take our lives, had warranted a hearing.

In that situation, no matter how much of a Hero I was, barging into the Mercenary Association and beheading its leader couldn’t be tolerated.

Especially without a good reason.

That jerk started it first, didn’t he?

While Ophelia might have said that, such narrow-minded thinking wouldn’t fly in the political realm.

Continuing down this path would yield no gains.

Yeah, I admit it. I’m too heated right now.

But…

Kakagak!

Both Gersen and I were caught up in our competitive natures, unable to sheathe our swords. His face, filled with pride, was clenched with determination.

Of course, Gersen knew I was no novice.

And he was also aware he was at a disadvantage.

So…

“Hey, you.”

In the tense standoff, Gersen asked first.

He must have sensed that continuing this fight would lead to an embarrassing loss in front of his courtiers. After calculating, Gersen clearly understood continuing would yield no benefits.

At least he wasn’t someone without foresight like that saintess.

“I never imagined you’d be this strong. I genuinely apologize for the offense I caused your lover. I didn’t realize you two were so close.”

Given the circumstances, discussing ‘lover’ wasn’t a leisure I could afford, so I simply squinted one eye.

“Apologies don’t come to me.”

“Right. I’ll apologize to that lady.”

“On your knees.”

“….”

“If you don’t, we go to the end.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

At my words, Gersen’s eyebrows twitched, but I tightened my grip on my sword.

It was abundantly clear who was dominant.

In the end, it was Gersen who yielded.

“Alright. I’ll… apologize on my knees… but not here, we should move.”

Seeing Gersen say it very reluctantly, I nodded. That much was sufficient.

Eventually, Gersen examined my expression without sheathing his Cutlass.

“You mentioned needing a deal. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to know your name. With such outstanding skills, I bet your reputation is widespread across the continent.”

I contemplated Gersen’s question for a moment. Was it alright for me to reveal I was a Hero here? I’d prefer to say it in a place where no eyes would be present.

However, there was no appropriate method here.

Hiding my name would seem odd.

I slowly opened my mouth.

“My name is Elliot, I have no surname.”

At that statement, Gersen’s eyes widened.

“Are you… that Elliot?”

“Yeah, that Elliot.”

I was about to remove my gloves to show him the Hero’s Divine Mark on my hand, but Gersen spoke faster.

“Elliot of the Black Eagle?”

“Huh? Black Eagle?”

The word that came out before the title of ‘Hero’ made me frown, and it seemed Gersen, assuming my silence was agreement, laughed heartily and placed the dull outer edge of his Cutlass on his shoulder.

“It’s an honor. To meet the former leader of the Black Eagle Mercenary Group in person. I’ve heard your name enough to wear a groove in my ears. The Mercenary of Reversal, the only human to leave a scar on that vicious and wicked One-eyed Knight, Hound Elliot, right?”

“…Hmm.”

Right now, it seemed that Gersen recalled Elliot from the Black Eagle much more than from being a Hero. And it even appeared he knew tales from long ago, back when I fought Geldmier.

That suggested, in the mercenary world, my name as Elliot was more commonly known as the former leader of the Black Eagle mercenaries than as a Hero.

I could roughly imagine why.

My old comrades probably boasted about me.

Mercenaries do tend to have loose lips.

I casually glanced over and spotted Laila alongside my old comrade Georg. For some reason, Ophelia was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she had run away out of embarrassment.

“So, yes. I am Elliot of the Black Eagle.”

In the end, when I nodded with a sigh, Gersen stepped back with arms wide open as if pleased. Meanwhile, the crowd surrounding us began to murmur.

The whispers, though indistinguishable, comfortably included the terms ‘Black Eagle’ and ‘Leader’. I hadn’t realized until now, but it seemed I was quite a well-known figure.

Gersen laughed heartily and asked, “So, what brings a great mercenary like you to this association…?”

Just as he began to continue his sentence.

“Opening!”

Suddenly, a long brown stick fell from above Gersen’s head at a speed so fast, I struggled to react…

And promptly, Gersen, caught mid-sentence, fainted as his eyes rolled back from the unexpected attack.

…

As I recognized the face of the troublemaker who had snuck up behind Gersen, my expression soured.

There stood Ophelia, grinning smugly after having sneakily delivered a blow.

“…What the hell?”

I stammered, “…What kind of nonsense is this…?”

“Uh… huh?”

It seemed Ophelia had expected my reaction to be more praising, as she looked sheepish while observing me.

In her embarrassment, Ophelia kicked Gersen’s body that lay sprawled on the floor with the tips of her feet.

Blood trickled from Gersen’s lips as he had bitten it hard. Ophelia spoke defensively, “But he kept charging at me… I just had to end it…”

“The fight just ended.”

Ophelia had additionally secured it with a sneak attack, bringing an end to the fight.

A sneak attack from behind. In a one versus many scenario. It wasn’t something a mercenary would do; it was more suited for a thief or a bandit.

“Is it… over?”

“Yeah, it’s over. The conversation was flowing smoothly too.”

“….”

“Though it’s certainly not flowing now because of you.”

What on earth was I supposed to do about this?

At this moment, the gazes of the crowd twisted with astonishment as if they witnessed something unsightly.

A Hero charging into the Mercenary Association with a Saintess, causing a ruckus, then together ambushing the Mercenary King and knocking him unconscious.

The following day’s headlines would undoubtedly be prominent in the Empire’s newspapers, and I couldn’t help but sigh deeply.

“Ophelia, this is all your fault.”

“Hey! That’s not true! If you hadn’t started the fight in the first place, none of this would have happened!”

In response to my words, Ophelia didn’t back down at all.

Under the pressure, as I rubbed my face, Ophelia pouted her lower lip defiantly.

Every action of hers screamed childlike behavior.