Taming the Evil Saintess

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I’ll be direct.

These Black Eagles are all a bunch of idiots.

Not just ordinary idiots, but top-tier idiots.

The proof is standing right in front of me.

Crash!

“Hahaha! Look at this, Chief! This guy dances like nobody’s business!”

“Shake that butt some more! Yeah!”

“Should I give him a smack? It looks like it’d be hilarious!”

The mercenaries were partying it up, eating and having a blast.

That part was fine. They’re rough folks by nature, and Ophelia isn’t exactly refined herself, right? Both of ‘em had a rough upbringing, so I get it.

Even if they’re teasing the receptionist of the Mercenary Guild while Cecilia glares at them, it’s their own problem to sort out.

But the real issue isn’t that.

The thing they’re laughing and playing with is…

Rumble rumble…!

Blackie.

If they’ve been mercenaries for a while, they should know the fear of dragons, especially the Black Dragon, the leader of them all. But these dopamine-addicted fools seem to have lost all sense of danger as they prance around Blackie.

Of course, Blackie’s got a bit of a temper too, and he was glaring at the mercenaries like he wanted to roast them alive, but when I shook my head just a little from behind, he tucked his tail in.

“Chief! How did you manage to tame this massive beast?”

A rotund man—his name’s Barton—came up to me, grinning. He was covered in some sticky sauce, probably from the meat he was just devouring.

And this food-obsessed mercenary licked his lips while looking at Blackie.

“So when are you gonna eat that thing?”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Huh? If you’re not eating it, why bring it along?”

“Because of Ophelia’s stubbornness.”

“Hmm?”

Barton tilted his head, then burst into loud laughter as if remembering Ophelia’s name.

“Chief, you’re such a softie!”

“…What the hell are you talking about?”

“To think you’d marry that pure white flower of the continent! You’ve tamed something even more magnificent than a dragon! After all, you need that kind of guts to be our chief!”

“…”

Maybe I should smack him.

I was seriously pondering that when…

“Uh-oh? Is it mad now?”

“Hahaha. What would a lizard do when it’s angry?”

Black Dragon Blackie seemed to have reached the end of his patience.

To put it simply, he was on the verge of snapping.

RRAAAAGHHHH!

The mightiest of dragons howled.

The Black Dragon was outrageously strong, a supreme being among dragons.

He could defeat gods and demons alike.

But anyway, he roared.

“Do these idiots really think they can go up against the Power of the Saint?”

After all the chaos, Ophelia stepped in to restore order.

Just a note: the mercenaries had all suffered due to Blackie’s claws, so Ophelia had to heal them with her divine power.

“Well, they might seem a bit lacking, but they are indeed skilled.”

“Bit lacking?”

“…Uh, maybe more than a bit.”

Still, the Black Eagle mercenaries are exceptional at what they do.

At least when I was with the Black Eagle Mercenary Group, each of them could take on three monsters without breaking a sweat. They had survived face-to-face encounters with high-ranking demons, so they should hold their own against the Knights of the Saint.

I just hope these guys haven’t gotten rusty.

While Ophelia didn’t seem to fully believe me, she looked somewhat convinced, though she leaned way too close to me, changing the subject.

She asked about an upcoming raid on the Cathedral.

“So, how are we getting into the Cathedral? There’s no way those bastards would just open the door for us.”

“Of course not. So I prepared a secret passage.”

“A secret passage?”

I pulled out the magic map that Inquisition Officer Yurede had given me.

This map wasn’t a typical map of the Cathedral; it showed all the hidden passages and vulnerable spots, even the optimal routes to take.

“Here, if you look closely, there’s a passage that leads in through the underground catacombs. It’s narrow, but it’s dense enough that even if we run into enemies, we can circle around.”

“…”

“We can reach right under the Holy See.”

But while I was explaining, Ophelia’s expression twisted.

“What’s with that face?”

“Well, um… I have some bad memories from there.”

“From the catacombs? You’ve been there, I take it?”

“Ugh, yeah.”

Ophelia hesitated, and I tilted my head.

When I looked at her questions, she sighed and said.

“Okay, just don’t get mad or laugh.”

“Mad?”

“Anyway, promise?”

“I can’t promise that.”

“Just do it.”

Ophelia glared at me with her fist raised.

Reluctantly nodding, Ophelia cautiously opened her mouth.

“Once, when I was at the Academy of the Saint with the other saint candidates, they grabbed me and dropped me into the catacombs, then just left me there.”

“…”

“To be fair, it IS a catacomb, right? Dark, cold, with skulls everywhere—it kind of left a bit of a trauma.”

“…And what happened next?”

“Well, I wandered around for about two days until that old man Belwin rescued me. No big deal.”

Just a trivial matter.

I clenched my fist tightly, the tendons in my hand bulging.

“Are those girls still alive?”

“Probably turned into proper nuns by now… Hey, why do you look like that?”

Ophelia was shocked at my annoyed expression.

“No, I’m fine now…”

“I’m not fine.”

Honestly, I couldn’t deny it.

Ophelia’s awful personality was probably due to her nature, but her rough upbringing had a significant role too.

I added those wretched names to my kill list, letting my anger simmer.

Of course, I couldn’t hold it in.

“Hey, Georg.”

“What is it?”

“Gather all the Black Eagles. Even the ones who are sleeping.”

“Out of nowhere?”

“I just want to check your skills and have a little sparring session for old times’ sake.”

I decided to use a punching bag that wouldn’t break here.

“Crazy guy.”

Ophelia chuckled as she watched Elliot take on thirty-three Black Eagle mercenaries all at once.

I always knew Elliot was skilled, so it wasn’t surprising. What caught Ophelia’s attention was how the Black Eagles coordinated against him.

Fluidly moving together, each of them aimed for Elliot’s weak spots, and even if an attack was thwarted, they transitioned roughly into another strike. Watching them fight in unison reminded Ophelia of one body, and she said to Albrecht beside her.

“Hey, Sword Saint, that’s impressive, right?”

“To be honest, I didn’t believe it until I saw it with my own eyes… but Elliot was right.”

Even Sword Saint Albrecht seemed intrigued by the teamwork of the mercenaries, watching the spar with a glint in his eye.

Though it was called sparring, you could hear the bones cracking.

Yet without flinching, they all got back up and charged in again—it felt almost uncanny.

“Is it really necessary to go that far?”

Ophelia grumbled, but Azar seemed quite impressed.

“They’re remarkable warriors. I wish they were in my territory.”

Azar added, and Ophelia couldn’t help but agree.

However…

Crack!

“WOOOOOOOAH!”

After knocking everyone down, with his face covered in blood, the mercenary chief wore a wicked grin in celebration.

In other words, when Elliot let out a savage, crude roar…

“That idiot…”

Elliot had definitely gotten angry after hearing about Ophelia’s past, and he started fighting to let out his frustration.

I had known for ages that he cared for me, but the satisfaction I felt when he showed such fury on my behalf was strangely comforting.

He even threw up a victory sign at Cecilia.

But…

“This victory is mine, you scum! WOOOAH!”

By the time the sparring ended, there stood one warrior—no, one monster—screaming with his shirt off in broad daylight.

It was Elliot.

“Shit.”

Ophelia felt an embarrassment that was unbearable.