Taming the Evil Saintess

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“Damn, I’m so lonely.”

In the dark, dim underground prison.

Possessor Morgan was locked up in the Royal Prison, waiting for a sentence of death that was essentially guaranteed.

All his subordinate demons were dead. The artifact he had possession of and even the magical device that could contact the Demon King’s army had been confiscated.

“What the hell happened?”

In other words, this situation was a calamity for Morgan, the worst-case scenario imaginable.

When he first heard about it, he thought it was just a simple train robbery mission, but the train was packed with a Hero and a Saintess, and even the Imperial Palace was deeply involved.

“Shit… Should I at least get a mark like Ian that bastard?”

His only way out was to plead for salvation from the Evil God and Demon King through the mark, but doing so would only lead to a future more miserable than death.

Morgan couldn’t forget the sight of Ian becoming a chimera and turning into the arms of Idmien. He couldn’t erase that memory.

“…Ha.”

How had he ended up in such a pitiful state?

For merely playing a game too earnestly, he was dragged into another world and forced to work like a dog.

Some seemed satisfied with that life, but Morgan was definitely not one of them.

He missed home.

In other words, he missed Earth.

And…

“I miss Mom…”

Wasn’t that something he had said the most since coming to this world?

He longed for his family back on Earth. The Demon King promised that once he conquered the continent, he could return to his original body, but… in this state, that was impossible.

“Damn.”

In layman’s terms, he was screwed.

That’s right; he was completely doomed.

As Morgan sighed deeply and leaned against the bars, a sudden soft voice interrupted him.

“So? You miss your mom?”

“…”

He hastily turned his head to find a beautiful blonde woman in red clothing standing there.

She was so stunning that he could barely swallow the saliva that built up in his throat.

But for a moment, a sense of wariness began to sprout in the corner of Morgan’s chest.

“…So, they say you’re facing execution?”

He asked as calmly as he could, and the woman tilted her head slightly.

Nodding, she acknowledged his inquiry.

“…Hmm. Generally, that’s about right for execution.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow at her words.

“Generally?”

As he voiced his doubt, the woman chuckled softly and pulled a fancy chair in front of the bars, sitting down.

“Why don’t you take off your clothes?”

“…What?”

Morgan jolted back in surprise.

Yet the woman was only smiling nonchalantly.

“You filthy woman, are you thinking of sating your desires with an executioner?”

It was a reasonable question, but the woman stuck out her tongue as if genuinely disgusted.

“Are you crazy? I’m not a Hero nor would I sleep with an ugly guy like you!”

“…”

“I don’t particularly plan to do anything lewd with you, but there’s one thing I need to confirm.”

“…What do you mean?”

“Your mark.”

The moment she uttered that word, strange intrigue flickered in her golden eyes.

“Show me your mark.”

“I refuse.”

“Oh? That’s too bad.”

She let out a sly laugh, crossing one leg in a seductive manner.

“If you show it to me, I might spare your life.”

“…What?”

Morgan, confused, asked again, and the woman lifted her chin as if it were a matter of course.

“How about we make a deal?”

“A deal?”

“Let me study your mark.”

“…Study?”

Studying his mark.

At first, he didn’t grasp the statement, but upon seeing the small box she pulled from her clothing, he quickly realized.

Inside was the logo of the game Morgan used to play back on Earth, “Sword & Magic Chronicle,” along with the most notorious mark on the continent.

“…The Hero’s mark.”

It contained the shriveled hand of a long-dead Hero.

“Right. I’m thinking of implanting this mark into a human body. But it’s quite dangerous, you know? So I came looking for just the right person.”

“….”

“Yeah. That’s you.”

The woman nodded and beamed at Morgan with a wide smile.

Instead of feeling impressed by her beauty, an instinctive dread began to blossom.

So, this woman is…

“Are you… planning to use me as a guinea pig?”

“Exactly.”

The reply was instantaneous.

“It’s nice that you catch on quickly. You’re the guinea pig, so you must obey. That’s your only way to survive.”

The woman waved the wrist she held in her hand then said to Morgan with crescent-shaped eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry for not introducing myself earlier.”

“…”

“My name is Princess Adelheit, you lowly creature.”

At her suddenly domineering tone, Morgan stammered slightly.

Indeed, he missed his mom.

*

“….”

Cecilia Ethelgarand, the Ice Warrior, glanced at the gathered faces in the Mercenary Guild square with a rather displeased expression.

All of them were mercenaries from the Black Eagle Mercenary Group.

It seemed they had gathered recently upon summons from Hero Elliot and Mercenary King Gersen, and aside from a few, most had responded to the call.

The number was a staggering thirty-one. A count that would easily fill the barracks of a large territory’s knight order.

However, that was only if those mercenaries possessed combat abilities worthy of proper knights. Cecilia frowned and turned to the Golden Lion Azar beside her.

“…Golden Lion, doesn’t this just scream a bunch of misfits?”

“It’s not a good attitude to judge someone by their appearance, Lady Cecilia.”

“…”

Of course, even the upright Azar, upon observing the Black Eagle mercenaries lined up in the square, couldn’t help but add with a wry smile.

“Well, your words aren’t entirely without merit…”

For Azar to say that much, the appearance of the Black Eagle mercenaries looked like they were missing a few screws here and there.

One could say their discipline was virtually non-existent.

Despite their reputation as the best mercenaries, their appearance was shabby.

It wasn’t surprising they were weaponless, and their clothing was barely distinguishable from rags.

Among them, there was even a man who appeared half-drunk, with drowsy eyes.

“They say they’re ex-convicts or slaves; I guess that checks out…”

Cecilia couldn’t hide her disgust.

Mainly because just a few days prior, she had been harassed by a mercenary named Georg from the Black Eagle group.

For someone as vengeful as Cecilia, there was no way she could have a positive image of them.

“Welcome. It’s been a while, everyone.”

However, Hero Elliot greeted them with a brighter expression than usual, likely due to reuniting with old friends.

Meanwhile, Saint Ophelia, who was observing the situation from behind, wore a gloomy expression as she watched Elliot reunite.

As the Hero stepped forward, the mercenaries greeted him casually.

“Wow, Commander. You finally became a Hero? By the way, that armor really doesn’t suit you! Hahaha.”

“You’ve completely won at life. I still vividly remember when you used to wet your pants.”

“Hey, you shouldn’t say that in front of the commander!”

It was a greeting that was so casual it bordered on rude.

As the commander of the knight order, Cecilia questioned whether that was truly how they should greet their superior, but Elliot himself didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ll get straight to the point. The reason I called you here.”

Elliot spread his arms and continued.

“I need your help.”

At those words, the mercenary group offered a lukewarm response.

“Hmm. The commander needs help, huh? That’s a new one.”

“What kind of help do you need?”

A chubby man, looking utterly unfit for fighting, spoke up.

He looked like he could fall asleep at any moment, his eyes half-open and drowsy.

Elliot grinned as he spoke.

“We’re thinking of overturning the Cathedral of the Saint.”

“…The Cathedral? The one where the Pope supposedly resides?”

“Exactly that Cathedral.”

“Are you crazy?”

…That would be a normal reaction.

However, the chubby man suddenly broke into a grin, his eyes lighting up.

“Well, he was always a bit off his rocker! I don’t really know much about that Cathedral, but since it’s your request, how could I possibly refuse!”

“Woo!”

At those words, a thunderous cheer erupted from the crowd around them.

The moment Cecilia thought they were weaponless, it was but a fleeting doubt.

When she saw each of them pulling out massive weapons from their small packs, she couldn’t believe her eyes.

Magic Backpacks. Artifacts that would take a common knight over a decade of saving to afford, and even the frugal Cecilia only owned one.

Elliot added, “The Cathedral has been tainted by evil.”

“Evil? What kind of evil?”

“You already know them well. The demons.”

The instant those words left his mouth, the atmosphere shifted.

It was like pouring boiling water onto ice.

The man who had been wearied and dazed suddenly wore the expression of a warrior, while the chubby man straightened up, placing a massive halberd over his shoulder.

Demons. The moment those two words were mentioned, their previously loose attitudes became as straight and sharp as a finely honed blade.

“…Hmm.”

Moreover, the strange fervor and loyalty emanating from the mercenaries even made Golden Lion Azar raise an eyebrow.

“This is quite intriguing…”

Azar muttered.

“It’s remarkable how they transformed from looking like a bunch of losers to being one unified warrior at the mere mention of demons…”

“…This is the Black Eagle Mercenary Group.”

Cecilia murmured softly, ensuring no one else could hear.

Specialists in demon slaying. Mercenaries of reversal.

Indeed, it seemed their reputation surrounded by such notoriety was not mere hot air.