Taming the Evil Saintess

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To defeat the Hell Duke and engage in a boss battle within the game, we had to eliminate a total of three mid-bosses. Among them, the Black Knight Negilus was the most recognizable.

“To think the day would come when I’d face a Hero directly. I guess I’ve managed to hang on till now.”

We had the numerical advantage. Though he arrived with several Demon Knights, we had about twenty Black Eagle Mercenaries by our side. But that wasn’t all; the Sword Saint Albrecht, Ice Warrior Cecilia, the next Archmage Emily, and Archery Master Erwin were all targeting Negilus.

However, Negilus stood before us, unfazed, as he dragged his massive sword along the ground towards us. The path his sword scraped left marks as if a gigantic serpent had slithered by.

“Hey, that guy looks pretty strong.”

“You’re not wrong. He’s damn tough.”

I tightened my grip on my sword, agreeing with Ophelia’s words. The infamous reputation of the mid-boss Black Knight Negilus was well known among players. There was no particular reason for him being troublesome. He didn’t have an annoying dot-damage pattern like Lieutenant Petinus, the Plague Lord’s subordinate, nor did he summon powerful minions like the Chimera we saw earlier.

It was simply that Negilus himself was ridiculously powerful. His overwhelming physique meant that any trick or tactic we tried would be utterly useless. His stats far exceeded those of typical Demon King Army mid-bosses, making clearing him nearly impossible without proper leveling and equipment enhancement.

In other words, Negilus was among the strongest of the upper echelon beneath the Demon King. Of course, he was still a mid-boss. If we all charged at him together, we would have a fair chance, but…

“Elliot.”

Emily spoke. With one eye closed to share vision with her familiar, she squinted with the other.

“There are a few Dark Mages nearby.”

“Must be Possessors.”

If we were talking Dark Mages, they could only be Possessors. The reformed Shadows of God were personally dispatched to eliminate us. I had assumed they would wait at the Holy See, but it seemed the Hell Duke was just as rushed.

They likely intended to trample the Heroes before starting a war with the Imperial National Church.

“Who will receive my sword?”

Negilus swung his sword once, as though anticipating the upcoming battle, resting it on his shoulder. Even with just that, a gust of wind rushed by, shattering a nearby stall to pieces. Upon witnessing this, Albrecht’s face hardened as he drew his sword.

“…Elliot, this is mine.”

“No.”

I stepped forward, raising the Holy Sword.

Negilus was the natural nemesis of Albrecht. Given Negilus’s overwhelming power, it would be nearly impossible to face him directly in swordsmanship. Even my own Fluid Sword would seem like child’s play against him. The Black Eagle Mercenaries weren’t much better. No matter how skilled and coordinated they were, they couldn’t break through his thick armor.

In other words, I was the one who had to face him.

With my sword energy and physical strength, I could contend with him.

“I will support you.”

Cecilia stepped forward beside me, and I didn’t stop her. In fact, I welcomed it. Cecilia’s mark allowed her to infuse her mana’s properties into a chill so close to absolute zero that every strike would slow down our opponent.

And for taking down a massive foe, that would be the most crucial element.

“You guys deal with the nearby demons as per Emily’s instructions.”

“Understood.”

Georg nodded in agreement without a second thought. Though he had a patriarchal and cruel side, Georg’s clear hierarchy was definitely a plus.

I turned my head to look at Erwin.

“With Negilus here, other subordinates might be lurking nearby to ambush us. Get a vantage point and provide support.”

“I was already planning to, kid.”

Erwin chuckled and vanished from sight. He took to the skies, soaring through the air using spirit magic.

“Albrecht, you…”

“You’re telling me to take care of another subordinate, right? Got it.”

Albrecht nodded, not needing further explanations.

Finally…

“What about you, Ophelia?”

I saw her making a sulky expression. For some reason, she seemed uncomfortable with me issuing her the last order.

“Ophelia will…”

I gazed at her intently, nodding slightly.

“Be the decoy.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Just stay there. Don’t do anything.”

“…What?!”

Ophelia glared at me with a look of betrayal. Telling her to just stand still while everyone else was busy fighting was, of course, impossible given her personality.

But I had my reasons.

“Ophelia, you need to conserve your power as much as you can. For the most part, stay put and just stand there.”

“No way, do you think I’m some kind of fool?!”

Though Ophelia shouted in anger, my resolve remained firm.

“It’s unavoidable. In this fight, you need to gather your divine power.”

The last time we’d fought against the Dark Mage Daniel in the Great Forest, we were completely overwhelmed by the mana of the area.

If we struggled even against a mere Possessor’s field, how much worse would it be in the Hell Duke’s realm?

Hell Duke Derabilice. He was one of the strongest lieutenants under the Demon King, wielding an area of effect unlike any other. Having experienced it firsthand in the game, I could vividly recall the nightmarish effects: our fields flipping upside down, UI changing to a foreign language, allies turning into foes and vice versa, swords morphing into bows and bows into axes. The memories are still fresh.

The Hell Duke’s area was truly a killing technique. To avoid being annihilated, Ophelia’s role was more crucial than anyone else’s.

Ophelia was the Saintess. The foremost user of divine power on the continent. She was our only key to counteracting the dense mana of the realm.

“Trust me. I swore to protect you.”

“…Swore.”

“That’s right. I will always protect you. So, Ophelia, please trust me.”

As I brought up our conversation under the moonlight last night, Ophelia bit her lip in contemplation.

Eventually, she reluctantly nodded.

“…Ugh. Fine, just don’t look at me like that….”

“…”

I tilted my head, then turned to Cecilia beside me.

“Is my gaze really that weird?”

Cecilia blushed, covering her cheeks with her gauntlet as she turned away.

“…A bit, no, quite a lot dreamy, I’d say.”

“Eh…?”

I couldn’t relate to her assessment at all.

—

“Kyah! Kuaaaak!”

Azar frowned at the chimera screaming in distress.

“It’s solid. Comparable to trolls, no, it could rival mythological giants.”

If it were just tough, that wouldn’t be too challenging. The body of Possessor Ian healed instantaneously, no matter how substantial the damage dealt. Azar had already landed seven strong hits using his mark, yet Ian merely screamed without any signs of injury.

Of course, Azar still had reserves. He could use his mark dozens of times over. If this extended into a long battle, the goddess of victory would surely favor him over a mere chimera that could not withstand it.

However…

“Die already!”

Barton grumbled as he bandaged his neck wound.

“Seriously, that monstrous bastard just won’t die!”

The Black Eagle Mercenaries were all experts at turning the tide. Even they struggled to keep pace with the vigorous movements of the chimera after hours of prolonged battle.

One out of ten had sustained heavy injuries, while four others had been lightly wounded and had to fall back. Until now, Azar had managed to hold his ground in front, preventing deaths, but any misstep from him could lead to casualties.

“…Tch.”

Azar clicked his tongue.

As it stood, there was no way to break through. Moreover, Azar caught sounds coming from the boulevard.

The clashing of sword against sword, the explosive sound of magic released by the next Archmage, and lastly, the sound of arrows being fired off from drawn bows.

A fierce battle had already commenced on the boulevard. If the fighting went on for a whole day, Ian’s regeneration would eventually cease, but time wasn’t on our side. We needed to finish this quickly.

“I guess we have no choice.”

Azar looked down at the axe he was holding with regret.

A one-handed axe specially crafted for him by Olmen, the Night Blacksmith of the Auriga Desert. This axe had been in Azar’s possession for decades, akin to a cherished sword. It would allow him to pierce through the tough skin of the chimera Ian and deal significant damage.

“Thanks for your hard work.”

As he bid farewell to the axe, Azar charged at Ian. The chimera Ian whirled around, swinging its claws. The claws scraped the ground, sending tiles flying everywhere.

Dust clouded Azar’s vision, but he instinctively raised his shield to block the attack.

Bang! A jarring vibration shot through his arm, yet Azar pressed on. He lifted the axe in his right hand and drove it into Ian’s chest. The mark shimmered with light.

Thud!

“Graaargh!?”

Of course, it was a shallow wound. Even using the mark, it had merely grazed the surface. The blade barely nicked the skin. Due to the internal force pushing back, the axe blade nearly slipped out, but Azar pushed down hard to keep it wedged in, and Ian’s skin, which was regenerating without pause, firmly trapped the axe. Finally, Azar released his hold on the axe.

The corners of Ian’s mouth curled up.

Even without intellect, it seemed he could manage a judgment that his opponent had lost their weapon.

“Foolish.”

It was ridiculous to think one was safe just because they appeared to be so. Azar moved his shield, previously held in his left hand, to his right.

“Keep that axe secure. I’m about to hammer it down!”

Azar stepped back to prepare his stance.

Only then did the chimera appear to understand its predicament.

Stuck in its chest, right before the left ventricle, was the lodged axe.

And in the distance, the Golden Lion Azar was preparing for a shield charge.

“Though it saddens me to use my precious axe, there’s nothing more important than a life.”

That axe could be remade by Olmen, after all.

With almost superhuman agility, Azar charged forward, lifting his shield high. He activated the mark once more.

Smite.

Azar’s shield struck hard against the nail embedded in Ian’s chest.

Crack! Something burst open.

It was Ian’s heart.

“….”

The colossal chimera, which had been screaming in agony, fell silent when its heart was destroyed. Thud. The three-meter-tall beast toppled over.

“…Is it over?”

Azar sighed as he retrieved the axe embedded in the exploded heart. The blade had come loose from the handle, and it too had shattered into dozens of pieces.

Having taken significant damage without any aura around the weapon, no matter how much of Olmen’s craftsmanship it bore, it couldn’t hold up.

“Haah.”

Concealing his disappointment, Azar turned to support the Heroes on the boulevard.

But a squelching sound grabbed his ankle.

When Azar turned back, a man rose from the pool of blood flowing out of the chimera’s heart.

“What, what the hell! Brother! Watch out! That monster is―――”

Barton shouted in horror, but his words were cut short.

Time seemed to freeze, the world halted.

Azar had just suffered this dreadful experience the day before.

“Are you here to mess around again?”

Azar grimaced.

And glared at the dapper man before him.

“Hell Duke.”

“Have you thought about it long enough?”

The Hell Duke Derabilice wore the same confident smile as always.