Taming the Evil Saintess

---

Bang!

A sound erupted, far too loud to be the clash of iron against iron.

Holding the handaxe, Azar stared at me with wide eyes, utterly astonished.

“So, you’re the Hero?”

“Well, it wasn’t the plan, but here we are.”

I tightened my grip on the sword. A golden aura erupted around the blade, pushing Azar’s feet back.

He looked visibly flustered.

After all, in the game, his strength stat was legendary. Azar had a muscle power higher than even the Troll King you could find in-game.

Among the Demon King’s army, only someone like Elgore, known for his monstrous strength, could hope to match Azar’s raw power.

So it was incredible that Azar could be pushed back by a mere Knight of the Saint. Not to mention, I wasn’t exactly the type to excel in strength contests myself.

“Surprised?”

To be honest, I was surprised too.

That I could stand up to Azar in a contest of strength was thanks to the enhanced physical capabilities given to me by the Gears and…

Hmm.

It was also due to this Mark.

The Hero’s Divine Mark flared up with a bright crimson glow. My wrist felt so hot it seemed like it would turn to ash.

This was my first time using a Mark, but surprisingly, it was ridiculously easy. Just pouring in mana made the Mark obey my command.

In the game, there are two types of Marks.

One is passive, enhancing existing skills. The Divine Marks of Emeli and Ophelia fall into this category.

And the Hero’s Mark is of the second kind, an active Mark.

Its effect is simple.

For 10 turns, an explosive increase in all stats.

As always in games, simple text proved to be the most overpowered.

Boom!

Empowered by the Mark, my body accelerated even further without needing to assume a ready stance.

The fragile balance of strength I barely maintained tilted. The handaxe was pushed away, and Azar’s stance crumbled. Seizing that moment, I swung my sword horizontally. He hurriedly raised his shield to block, but even that barely brushed against my path.

Cracks appeared on the shield, and Azar’s expression cracked along with it.

“Now that’s some solid performance.”

That was precisely why I decided to charge straight into Azar’s fortress.

In a quick showdown, even if the Demon King’s army was here, I felt like I could at least draw in a stalemate.

That much, the Hero’s Mark had destructive power.

With that, I struck the shield a few more times.

The shield couldn’t withstand the stress and shattered into fragments.

Azar’s expression turned increasingly cold.

I leaped again, swinging my sword toward his crown, but Azar rolled away to dodge instead of attempting to parry.

Boom!

The ground where Azar had just been shook violently.

The castle floor felt like it was about to collapse under the ongoing battle.

If this continued, Laila and Ophelia down below might get hurt.

Ultimately, wrapping this up swiftly was the best course of action.

I rested my sword’s hilt on my shoulder and gestured at Azar.

“Are you not going to use your Mark?”

“…”

“If you don’t, you’re guaranteed to lose.”

I looked at the shield-shaped Mark on his elbow.

It was almost a provocation.

At the same time, I was curious. Just how strong could I become in this moment?

Could I win against the Demon King’s higher-ups, including Geldmier?

“That’s amusing.”

Azar caught my intention with a smirk and raised his handaxe high. Light flooded into the Mark, and the ground beneath him sank.

“I’ll use everything I’ve got. That’s all.”

“Good attitude.”

Azar inhaled deeply and charged at me with terrifying speed.

I lowered my stance, preparing to catch his axe.

Azar’s Mark was also an active skill with a usage effect.

What was it called again?

Oh right.

“Smite.”

In game terms, it means “to strike hard.”

Like the Hero and the Mark, simple skills were often the most powerful in the game.

Bang!

In the stillness, a thunderous roar echoed that felt like it could shake the entire fortress.

—

Dark Mage Richard was a man obsessed with games.

Not just a casual fan, but a fanatic.

Once he started playing, he had to obsessively squeeze every bit out until he reached the end. Completing games with all collection elements was a must for him.

In that sense, Sword & Chronicle was the perfect game to quench his thirst.

Rich in volume for its price and crammed with various strategies and easter eggs.

Although anime-style SRPGs weren’t popular in the Western culture he lived in, it didn’t matter to someone like him, close to being a true fan.

The moment he completed all thirty-nine challenges, Richard fell into the world of the game.

However, what surprised him was that within the game, he was not a knight or a mage, but a slave.

“Ugh, ugh…”

The flashback ended abruptly.

Suddenly, his head throbbed, and he opened his eyes.

His hazy consciousness cleared, and the scene in front of him came into focus.

He was in an underground workshop.

And around him, strands of magic sprawled out, forming a massive circular barrier that surrounded the stronghold.

“…Ah.”

Finally, he regained his senses. He understood the situation.

Richard had temporarily lost control of his body to Chimera Sorcerer Idmien due to the Mark’s power.

Was it the woman who used the Mark? The magic flowing through him shook violently like never before. The agony that pierced to his very bones made Richard bite his lip until it bled.

“Damn it.”

He had entered the world of the game.

It was absurd, but Richard was living proof.

Above all, the game world was not kind to Richard.

He was a slave, a puppet that followed orders.

Idmien commanded him to kill them, but from Richard’s standpoint, it would be nice if he could, but if not, it was merely regretful.

He had nothing to lose but his own life.

“Idmien, can you hear me? The current situation…”

There was no reply.

Perhaps he was too preoccupied controlling his Chimera. Or, it was possible that the Chimera Idmien was controlling had already perished.

Richard clicked his tongue and took a deep breath.

Alright, let’s gather my thoughts. Right now, he had established a barrier, turning the Saintess and the Slave Knight into enemies. A horrible situation. His desire to escape was overwhelming, but the Mark wouldn’t allow it.

There was no other choice. Richard had to kill them by any means necessary.

There was a chance. The monsters and demons within the castle were in significant numbers. Most importantly, Golden Lion Azar would likely try to protect his wife.

Boom!

A massive sound erupted, not from the underground, but from above ground.

A fierce battle was raging on even now.

He needed to assess the situation.

Richard began to draw out his magic, radiating it around him.

He intended to share sensations with the monsters to gauge the situation.

Uuuuuuuun.

“….”

But.

Contrary to Richard’s expectations, he only felt an emptiness so profound it was almost eerie.

“Could it be…”

The lack of contact with Idmien, and not being able to sense the monsters.

Richard envisioned the worst-case scenario.

Sure enough, the door of the workshop burst open, and a woman walked in.

“…Ophelia Meredain.”

“Don’t use the name Meredain. It’s disgusting.”

Silver-white hair. Green eyes.

She was so beautiful she almost seemed sacred.

Richard recognized her.

The Saintess of the continent.

Ophelia stood before him.

“What happened to the demons inside the barrier? There should be more than a hundred of them!”

“I killed them.”

Those words came from the Saintess, but her appearance was a mess.

Her hair was tousled, and her shabby clothes were torn to shreds.

Yet, there were no injuries.

After all, she had the best healing magic in the game.

That’s why Richard couldn’t comprehend it.

“You killed them? The Saintess? With just Holy Magic?”

Not only demons, but she also brought along the Chimera Idmien had directly created.

Those Chimeras were not the usual low-tier demons or monsters.

There was no way a mere healer could defeat such foes.

“Well, a lizard helped a bit, but that girl’s currently tied up,” Ophelia mumbled while glaring at Richard.

Her emerald eyes turned a golden hue.

“Anyway, are you prepared?”

“…”

“You bastard.”

Her tone was different from what Richard remembered.

And he was even more surprised when he saw what the Saintess pulled from her bosom.

He thought it would be some rosary or something.

But what she pulled out was a long blade with a silver-white hilt.

“Bite down on this.”

“…”

“When you die, you should do it with a smile, right?”

Suddenly, Richard recalled that the Saintess’s swordsmanship aptitude was B+.