Taming the Evil Saintess

---

The comrades arrived in the early dawn.

It was such a remote place even the Saint’s domain couldn’t be reached by usual means. Thanks to the pieces of the map we had distributed, or perhaps due to Rowan guiding them, Cecilia also succeeded in returning on time.

Meanwhile, the Black Eagle Mercenaries returned with cheerful faces despite conducting disruption operations all day long. After all, operations in the north lasted for several days, so rolling around for half a day wouldn’t even register as a minor inconvenience.

“Leader, Barton is injured.”

“He always gets hurt, doesn’t he?”

“That’s true. Haha. That idiot always gets hurt by himself.”

Barton was wrapped in bandages, having clearly gotten himself hit by an arrow while excitedly running off on his own.

Georg, who was behind him, sighed and shook his head.

“That fool must think he has three lives. You should tell that rascal that he only has one life. I’ve prepared the love whip for him.”

“He’s just like that. Just understand.”

“You know how many times he’s almost led us to annihilation, right? It’s only thanks to Laila saving him today that this idiot didn’t meet a gruesome end.”

By the looks of it, Barton must have heard plenty of scolding from Georg before coming here, as he held onto his shoulder with a painful expression.

Of course, that was all an act.

An arrow wound like that wasn’t a serious injury.

“Stop whining. Just lick it and sleep; you’ll be fine.”

“No, Leader. Isn’t this a bit much? If it had been a poisoned arrow, I would have died!”

“You won’t die, man. And even with a poisoned arrow, Ophelia’s Holy Magic can heal you.”

I had thought of asking Ophelia for healing, but she was currently sitting on a small church podium, blankly staring at the moon. Ever since delivering a wedding-like speech earlier, she had remained in that state.

Perhaps it was due to lingering emotions.

Whatever the case, it seemed better to leave her as she was for now.

“Hey, Barton. Just let yourself heal naturally.”

“Isn’t that a bit too cruel?!”

Barton shouted in grievance, but I ignored him.

I turned to look at Emily and Erwin. The two of them, who had provided covering fire for the entire Saint’s domain from the aerial garden, looked visibly fatigued. It would be better to rest today and discuss the details tomorrow.

“Anyway, just get some sleep for now. I’ll tell you more tomorrow.”

“Leader!”

“Shut up.”

Barton groaned, but Laila smacked the back of his head.

She dusted off the soot clinging to her body and let out a deep sigh.

“By the way, they say he’s the continent’s greatest warrior, and he really is something.”

Laila glanced towards the campfire where Albrecht, Azar, and Cecilia were gathered and initiated the conversation.

“He single-handedly crushed dozens. It’s no wonder he’s called a one-man army.”

“Well, they’re all Mark Holders.”

“Still, I heard from others that you, Poppy, are stronger than those three. I knew you were something, but being a hero too? This is quite a long-lived spectacle.”

“I said I’d kill you if you call me Poppy.”

“Anyway.”

Laila looked back as if the main point was just about to begin.

“The Golden Lion’s condition doesn’t seem good.”

“What?”

With those words, I looked at Azar.

Though his expression was the same as usual, having spent nearly a year together, I could sense worry etched on his face.

“It seems he’s been distracted during battles. That’s why the Sword Saint had to save him several times.”

“Azar?”

Azar is definitely not the kind of person to be distracted during combat. In terms of practical experience, he is the most veteran among us.

“Anyway, just note it down. You know him better than I do.”

“Uh…”

Regardless, hearing that Azar’s condition is bad is not good news at all.

I approached Azar. Just then, he was cleaning the blood off an axe he had placed on a crumbling brick column.

As soon as I got close, Azar suddenly spoke up.

“Did that Dragonkin friend say something?”

“…”

“That my condition isn’t good?”

“Uh…”

I let out a hesitant sound.

Azar sighed without even looking at me and asked.

“…It seems I was shaken enough to be noticed by that Dragonkin. How embarrassing. Do I look that obvious even to you, Elliot?”

“To be honest, yeah.”

Azar sat down using his shield like a chair and sighed again.

After pulling out a water bottle to quench his thirst, he finally looked at me. I asked him.

“So, what exactly happened?”

Azar collected his thoughts for a moment and spoke.

“…During combat, a territory unfolded. In there, the Hell Duke offered me a deal.”

“A deal? Derabilice? What was it about?”

“He said he would reunite me with Aria.”

Aria.

Azar’s deceased wife.

It seemed even mentioning her name was difficult for Azar as he stroked his beard.

“…”

The Hell Duke is a tricky executive of the Demon King’s Army. Even in the game, he engages in insidious tricks, often trying to entice one of the hero party members. Had it been only that, it could simply be viewed as a narrative event, but the problem lies in the fact that failing to roll the dice can turn a party member into an enemy.

If essential party members like the Saintess or the Sword Saint become enemies, the entire campaign must be reset, which earned him a terrible reputation.

The Hell Duke is truly a troublesome executive.

And now he has set his sights on Azar. He is clearly aiming to exploit the emotional gap left by Aria. If Azar were to switch back to the Demon King’s side, that would be a disaster.

“Don’t trust him. The Hell Duke can’t bring back the dead.”

“…Yeah, that’s true.”

Azar smiled bitterly as he sheathed his newly polished twin axes at his waist.

“I have no intention of agreeing to his deal. I’m just overthinking things.”

“Right.”

Though he said that, Azar’s expression didn’t look very good.

*

“What happened to the Golden Lion?”

“He was rejected, and quite harshly at that.”

In the highest layer of the Holy See.
The throne.

Hell Duke Derabilice tapped his head.

His skull had been split many times by the axe. Even while saying it was futile, Azar continued to fell Derabilice’s skull.

His will was firm.

“Of course, no matter how stubborn he is, he’s just a candle in front of the wind before me.”

Derabilice turned with a sly smile.

Even though Golden Lion Azar had rejected him, the Pope and everyone else began the same way. However, as the persuasion continued and as they grew accustomed to it, the reeds of the heart would eventually tilt to one side.

“Humans have fragile wills. I’m merely relieving them of their burdens.”

“Excellent, my lord.”

A man spoke up.

The newly organized Shadow of God.

Of course, they weren’t followers of the god, nor were they shadows at all.

“You’ve become quite the flatterer, Ruin.”

Possessor Ruin only shrugged his shoulders.

The Shadow of God was composed of the Hell Duke’s loyal executives and elite soldiers made up of possessors, a personal guard of the Hell Duke that followed neither the Pope’s command nor the will of God.

“So, where are they? I heard they’ve stormed down to the Holy See’s underground.”

“It seems they got spooked and hid somewhere within the Saint’s domain. I’ve dispatched my subordinates to search, but their strength isn’t exactly weak.”

“Hmm…”

Derabilice scratched his cheek.

Given the Hero’s nature, he had expected them to reach the highest level of the Holy See. Considering that, he had placed the Shadow of God in various locations to ambush them, but—

“It seems he possesses at least some judgment.”

Well, wouldn’t that much be expected from a champion chosen by the divine?

The Hero is outstanding.

It’s no coincidence that Plague Lord Vermina was defeated.

“Have they still not confirmed the Dragon?”

“Black Dragon.”

Elgore’s mess.

Ruin nodded.

“It appears they have not entered the Saint’s domain.”

“That’s a relief.”

Dragons are an asymmetrical force.

It was unexpected for the Hero to bring in a mercenary group, but if there is no dragon, then there shouldn’t be any problem.

“However, the Imperial National Church is assembling the Knight Order outside the Saint’s domain. It seems they will be arriving shortly.”

“…The National Church, huh…”

Derabilice sighed and turned around.

The Imperial National Church was planning to declare the Saint’s domain as the enemy and instigate a religious war.

“We are running out of time.”

“Yes. So it might be wise to quickly deal with the hero group.”

“How do you intend to search for them?”

“Why not let him loose?”

Among the Shadow of God, there was a particularly wicked possessor.

Originally under Vermina’s command, he was presented to the Hell Duke by Chimera Sorcerer Idmien.

“Right. We can let Ian loose.”

As the impending chaos began to form in Derabilice’s mind, he smiled.