Taming the Evil Saintess

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In the Sword & Magic Chronicle, Olmen was a Mark Holder, but not a companion character. Players, including myself, recognized Olmen as more of a blacksmith NPC and he didn’t look very different in reality.

“It seems I’ve got an unusual customer.”

Olmen was an elderly man, his hair already gray and his back hunched. Yet, his broad shoulders and muscular arms showed that he still possessed excellent smithing skills.

“I’ve come seeking the continent’s greatest blacksmith.”

“Not quite. I just made a few weapons back in the day.”

Those few weapons being national treasures is the important part. The beloved sword of Sword Saint Albrecht, Armor of Golden Lion Azar, Staff of Eldarian, the Fairy King’s bow, and Tsar’s spear—all legendary items crafted by Olmen’s hands.

I might just get one of those. A strange thrill surged as I sat across from Olmen. Ophelia reluctantly took a seat beside me. I immediately got to the point.

“I would like to request a sword.”

“A sword, you say.”

“It’s a one-handed sword. About this long, and the blade on both sides…”

“Declined.”

Olmen’s rejection was firm, and I blinked in surprise.

A blacksmith NPC refusing an order?

“Uh, um. I will pay whatever you ask. I’ll fetch the materials if needed.”

“That’s not the issue.”

“Our appearance may suggest otherwise, but we have a recommendation from Golden Lion Azar. Plus…”

“I know that too. I heard it from Ilene. Tsk.”

Olmen clicked his tongue and looked me straight in the eye.

“My refusal comes from the strong scent of blood coming from you.”

“…The scent of blood?”

“Yes.”

I had indeed taken down a few monsters before arriving here. Was the smell lingering? When I glanced at Ophelia, she pinched her nose through her mask.

Thunk. I gave her a light bump on the head to redirect her attention.

“What do you mean by that, elder?”

“You can’t erase the smell of blood. You’re accustomed to murder, aren’t you? You have no feelings about cutting people down and spilling blood.”

“Well, it’s just that I handle swords…”

“Exactly, you handle swords. That’s why I won’t sell any more weapons.”

Olmen stated that with a dismissive tone, as if he’d repeated it countless times to guests before.

“More than anything, I’ve decided not to forge weapons anymore. I might consider making armor, but weapons, swords in particular, are off the table.”

With that, Olmen stood up.

“Even if that man is a hero?”

“Indeed.”

There was a peculiar solemnity about Olmen’s back as he turned away.

*

After that, we were almost chased out by Olmen.

“I warned you to live a decent life, didn’t I, brat?”

As Ophelia removed her mask, she wiped the sweat from her face and began to smirk at me.

“Blood scent! Blood scent! It means you stink! I knew it. Why don’t you wash up a bit more often, you filthy brat?”

“Ophelia.”

“….”

When her name was called, Ophelia pouted her lips and averted her gaze to the distant mountains.

It didn’t seem worth scolding her at this point.

“Olmen’s words don’t mean what you think.”

“Then what do they mean?”

“It means he won’t make weapons anymore.”

Of course, given my long life as a mercenary, I had taken many lives. I believed they were necessary killings. However, it seemed Olmen didn’t share that view.

So, it meant he wouldn’t sell swords to someone who needed them. Once the continent’s greatest blacksmith, Olmen had declared he would make no more weapons.

“….”

Blacksmith Olmen.

How was he in the game?

He was the NPC who provided the hero with the best gear.

Though he had a reputation of being incredibly pricey and required players to fetch materials themselves, the gear crafted by his hands all had final-tier specs.

For him to have put down his hammer…

“Possessor.”

There was a high chance they were involved.

For all that was the case, I wanted Olmen’s sword.

From my battle with Azar, I realized my physical abilities supported by my Hero’s Divine Mark were transcendent. They were beyond what an ordinary sword could handle.

“For now, let’s find out the details. I should let Laila at the inn know it might take a bit longer.”

“How do you plan to find out? Just ask him directly?”

“He most likely won’t answer….”

I subtly twisted my gaze towards Ilene, a blacksmith’s apprentice, who was hauling some firewood.

“Guess I could ask someone nearby.”

As I said that, Ophelia scrunched her face.

“I don’t like that girl.”

“Why not?”

“She’s a fox-like girl.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Just that. You wouldn’t understand even if you lived a hundred years.”

Ophelia’s remarks were still as baffling as ever.

*

“Um, why has Olmen stopped making weapons?”

Ilene seemed momentarily flustered, but upon seeing my face, she began to speak as if enchanted.

“A shrew-like girl.”

I thought I heard Ophelia’s insult but chose to ignore it.

After I summarized Ilene’s explanation, I frowned.

“Are you saying the sword Olmen made is harming people?”

“More accurately, it’s the one wielding the sword that’s doing the harming.”

“Who is that?”

The only sword-worthy item Olmen had crafted was the sacred sword he made for Sword Saint Albrecht.

Could it be that Albrecht had become one of the Demon King’s officers like Azar? I shook my head at the terrible thought. According to the information Owen sent, Albrecht was still the commander of the capital’s knight order, just like in the game.

Then…

“I’m not sure about the exact name, but apparently, about three years ago, a knight came and threatened him to forge a sword.”

“A knight? And he threatened him?”

“Yes. It seems he used the master’s family as hostages to force him. Although he did it out of necessity, he likely feels a lot of guilt. He regrets that decision almost daily.”

“Who was that knight? No, what did he look like?”

“Um… I’ve only heard about it, so I don’t know exactly….”

Ilene put a hand on her chin, briefly recalling, before continuing.

“Gray hair. Blood-red armor. Pale skin. Elf ears.”

“…”

“And.”

“One eye.”

I answered instead.

At that, Ilene clapped her hands together.

“That’s right! So you know him!?”

“…”

Indeed, he was among the worst connections I had formed since being transferred to this world.

“Geldmier.”

The most powerful of the five officers of the Demon King’s army.

The One-Eyed Knight Geldmier had commanded Olmen to forge a sword.

It was all likely due to information spilled by the Possessor.

“Hey.”

Seeing my unusual reaction, Ophelia approached me.

“What’s wrong? You don’t get along with that Geldmier fellow, do you?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

I replied with a grimace, and Ophelia looked at me wide-eyed.

“Let’s go.”

“Uh, to where?”

“To Olmen.”

*

Olmen had worked as a blacksmith for over forty years.

For someone who had lived more than half his life in front of a furnace, there was no way he would give up his hammer. However, he would not accept any requests to forge weapons.

A sword, by nature, is not something to kill someone but to protect.

I had decided this both when receiving my mark and when picking up my hammer.

And not long ago, I reaffirmed that decision.

“….”

Olmen slowly rubbed a blade hanging on the wall.

The last sword he made was three years ago. Olmen succumbed to threats and forged it, only for the knight to massacre the villagers nearby under the pretense of testing the sword. The knight returned, satisfied, with dozens of corpses and handed over an enormous gold coin.

He did not accept it.

No, he couldn’t accept it.

In the end, it was akin to he himself killing those people.

He sold a sword to a demon. Olmen effectively received that price for human lives.

That was why Olmen laid down his hammer, in penance before the smithing god.

“Sir.”

His reverie was cut short.

Before he knew it, the knight he had driven off had entered the blacksmith’s shop.

With a deep sigh, Olmen spoke.

“I think I’ve made my intentions clear enough.”

“Yes. I’ve come to fulfill that intention.”

“What do you mean?”

Olmen raised an eyebrow.

The man casually removed his gloves.

On the back of his hand was a mark, an emblem that Olmen well recognized.

“Are you… a hero?”

“Though I’m a substitute, yes.”

The man replied nonchalantly.

“And I’ve also heard about why you don’t forge weapons anymore.”

“Tsk.”

Cursed Ilene.

Though she had been instructed to keep quiet, that girl couldn’t help herself when it came to handsome men.

“The officer of the Demon King’s army, the One-Eyed Knight Geldmier. Did you make a sword for him?”

“I won’t deny it.”

“I’ve also heard that sword is causing harm to people.”

Olmen slowly nodded.

The man leaned in closer, to an uncomfortable distance.

Upon seeing his expression, Olmen couldn’t help but be taken aback.

“…Huh.”

Even someone who had lived as long as Olmen was startled because the man’s visage was filled with hostility.

That hostility was not directed towards Olmen.

But towards someone who wasn’t there.

In other words….

“I will personally see to it that Geldmier is killed. In the name of the hero, I will crush that knight and the sword! So please, forge me a sword powerful enough to shatter his blade.”

“…Do you know that knight?”

“Yes. Extremely well. That’s why I’m saying this.”

“….”

Olmen carefully scrutinized the man’s figure.

As the continent’s leading blacksmith, he frequently encountered excellent warriors.

Among those he had met, the strongest was the Empire’s Sword Saint. Yet, the man before him possessed an equally impressive spirit. He was undoubtedly one of the greatest knights in the continent.

However, the malice found in him was absent in the Sword Saint.

At first, that element was concerning.

This man would undoubtedly continue to commit many killings.

Yet if that malice was directed at the knight who had threatened Olmen…

Especially given that he was a hero…

“I indeed forged a sword for that knight.”

Olmen steadied his thoughts and spoke.

He turned to the back of the forge, opening an old cabinet.

“I had anticipated this a bit. I suspected that the sword I forged for him would indeed bring harm to others.”

There was no way he could be unaware.

The scent of death wafted from Geldmier.

Not the scent of blood, but the scent of death. The kind that only a monster who made a profession of killings could possess.

Olmen was appalled, yes, but he had complied with Geldmier’s request to save his family.

However, he hadn’t given in too easily.

“So, I used the Mark. It was for my own satisfaction, but… this is the result.”

“That is…”

“I forged twin swords.”

What Olmen took out resembled the sword he had made for Geldmier.

Yet, the color was different.

Unlike the blood-red sword demanded by Geldmier, this one featured a golden hue.

A golden sword forged to shatter the demon’s sword.

“I’ve decided to call this the Holy Sword.”

A sword intended for the hero.