Taming the Evil Saintess

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“Ugh…”

Struck squarely by a wooden sword, Ophelia fell on her rear, clutching her head and groaning.

Even though I held back as much as I could, it landed a clean hit on her crown. Besides, I had been swinging a sword for nearly six years since reincarnating in this world. For Ophelia’s frail body, keeping her senses intact was already a challenge.

Sure enough, her emerald eyes were rolling around in the whites, as if she were seeing stars.

After stumbling for a while, she straightened herself and stared intensely at me and the wooden sword I held.

It didn’t take her long to grasp the situation.

“What on earth are you doing?!”

“Ah? Didn’t you once say not to talk to you? Weren’t you in a vow of silence?”

“Ugh.”

“Could it be that Saint Lady is lying? Just yesterday, you said that anyone who lies should have their tongue cut out. Is that what you meant by your vow of silence? I assure you, even if the Saintess has no tongue, this loyal Knight Elliot will treat her with utmost respect.”

“Shut up…”

Snap!

“Yow! You bastard! Cut it out!”

Smack!

This time I put a bit more strength into it.

“What kind of words are those to your instructor?”

“You hit me first!”

“I didn’t hit. I slashed. If this were real combat, your skull would have been shattered three times over by now.”

I raised the sword higher.

“And this is all part of the training. If you really don’t want to get hit, then pick up a sword.”

“Why should I wield a sword? I’m a Saint!”

“Do you think the Demon King’s Army will go, ‘Oh, she’s a Saint, let’s not engage in close combat’? I’ve seen plenty of rookies with that rotten mindset get themselves killed by sticking their necks out when I was a mercenary.”

In fact, I had seen double-digit numbers die because of such foolishness.

Though it’s called a mercenary group, new recruits had to be meat shields on the battlefield for over a year.

More than 80% of the scars on my body had been gained during that time.

Above all.

Ophelia had a valid reason to learn swordsmanship.

I couldn’t explain it to her, but it was a memory only I knew.

In other words, it was game information.

In “Sword & Magic Chronicle,” each character has a predetermined skill stat.

There are many types. Just to name a few: swordsmanship, archery, axe fighting, spear fighting, hand-to-hand combat, faith, magic studies, cavalry skills, etc. There are a lot.

Basic character stats like health, strength, and intelligence can grow as much as you like, but skill stats can’t be changed no matter what you do. The development team had limited each character’s growth path to some extent.

And within the game, Ophelia’s swordsmanship stat is B+.

This was among the top ranks of all characters. The Sword Saint Albrecht, who was hailed as the strongest swordsman in the Empire, had an A+ stat, so Ophelia certainly had the talent to become a great swordsman.

In fact, it had practically become a meme to raise Ophelia as a swordsmanship-specialized character, have her self-heal, and position her in the front lines—what you might call the “Cockroach Battle Saint Build.”

If the game info holds true, Ophelia will undoubtedly have significant talent in swordsmanship.

“Alright, you seem to have rested enough, so let’s get back to it.”

“Wait a second, I’m not mentally prepared yet!”

“The Demon King’s Army won’t wait for the Saint Lady to prepare her mind.”

With those words, I took a step forward.

Ophelia’s face went pale with fear, and she stepped back until her back hit the cold wall of the training ground.

“….”

Just days ago, she was a high-nosed, personality-challenged woman, but now she looked pitiful, like a frightened kitten trying to squeeze into a mouse hole.

My heart softened unexpectedly.

So I decided to say something.

“Then, I’ll make a proposition to the Saint Lady.”

“A-proposition?”

“If you manage to block my attack just once today, I’ll call off training.”

“And if I can’t block it?”

“Then there will be no leisure time for dinner.”

With that, I flashed her a bright smile.

Snap!

Once again, a cheerful sound echoed.

Unfortunately, it was not the sound of a wooden sword smashing into Ophelia’s head.

Rather, it was Ophelia managing to parry my attack.

“Huh, h-huh. Di-did I do it, you bastard?”

Immediately regretting her words, Ophelia covered her mouth.

But instead of striking her cheek, I lowered my sword hand.

“Very well done. You have far surpassed my expectations.”

As expected, in this world, Ophelia had an aptitude for swordsmanship just like in the game.

Glancing at the clock, only about three hours had passed. In just three hours, she had mustered enough compassion to parry my sword—an impressive feat for someone who knew nothing of swordsmanship.

I could confidently say my skill was not to be belittled. This was entirely due to Ophelia’s prowess. I honestly admired her.

“Ugh, damn…”

Of course, Ophelia wasn’t exactly unscathed.

Her body was covered in deep blue bruises, sweat poured down her face as her makeup ran, and even her once-white hair was now covered in dirt, looking like a beggar. The holy garment she wore was torn and tattered, resembling a rag on the street.

Yet, despite her disheveled appearance, I was secretly impressed she was more beautiful than most models.

Ophelia glanced at me, slowly lowered her wooden sword, and timidly walked aside.

“Is it okay for me to leave now?”

“Of course.”

At my words, relief washed over Ophelia’s face.

She must have thought she was finally freed from hell.

I added a parting message with a solemn bow.

“Well then, enjoy your meal. We will meet here again tomorrow morning.”

“…Huh?”

“Why do you look so surprised? Did you think today was the first and last?”

Ophelia’s eyes widened in shock.

She had the face of someone whose world was crumbling, and I simply shrugged.

“The Demon King’s Army won’t hold back as I do. My goal is for you to be able to block at least half of my attacks by the end of this month.”

Bellwin would undoubtedly agree on this necessity as well.

Indeed, the enemy AI in the game was programmed to prioritize attacking the back line.

And the easiest way to improve skill is to learn through practice. I had developed my skills this way during my days as a mercenary.

But our naive Saintess, who had grown up like a flower in a greenhouse, seemed to have a different perspective.

“Y-You are absolutely insane…”

Clenching her fists, Ophelia trembled in rage.

She suddenly looked up with a distorted face.

“Who do you think you are to torment me like this?!”

“I’m not tormenting you, I’m training…”

“Shut up! Enough! I don’t need that! Who asked you for anything like that?!”

Ophelia lifted her foot and kicked the wooden sword on the ground.

The sword flew far away, but she winced in pain, as it was no surprise that even a wooden sword would hurt when kicked bare-footed.

“Self-harm is bad.”

“It’s not self-harm!”

With those words, Ophelia pointed a burning glare at me.

“Just you wait! You’re a dead man! I’ll make sure to burn your corpse myself!”

Ophelia spewed words of curse and contempt unbefitting a Saint, turned sharply, and dashed away, trying to outrun me, but I saw her grimace in pain, dragging one leg as she exited the training grounds.

I pondered following her to smack her again but thought better of it; it would seem too petty.

“Well, she did have a tough time.”

I certainly didn’t expect her to change anytime soon.

After suffering under Ophelia for a year and a half, I had learned she was not the kind of person who would easily reform.

There’s a saying that a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

If this cycle of training continues, surely Ophelia would come to realize her potential.

With that thought, I was on my way to retrieve the wooden sword she had kicked away.

“Huh?”

I frowned.

A dusty envelope lay discarded in a corner of the training grounds.

Picking it up, I noticed the wax seal bore the holy insignia of the Saint.

Only one person could use this symbol at the Cathedral of the Saint.

“Is this Ophelia’s letter?”

Debating whether to return it, my curiosity got the better of me, and I ripped it open.

Inside, the contents were…

“Look at this.”

It was nothing but a raging account of my evildoings.

Written in detail was a letter filled with hatred about all the wicked things I supposedly committed.

It even mentioned I had gossiped about the Archbishop and harassed the maids before I slapped her.

Of course, unlike others, I would never do such things. More than half of what was recorded here was fabricated and incitement.

I had witnessed how severe false accusations were in the public trial held several months ago.

They’d gouge out your eyes and cut off your tongue.

“Ha.”

Was this why I was at the post office earlier?

Just a moment ago, I had been proud of how hard she was training, but I now felt utterly foolish.

After all, Ophelia was not the type of girl who would yield to a few slaps or even a whack with a wooden sword. She was one of the craziest individuals I had encountered since arriving in this world.

“But this girl dared to write a heartfelt letter…”

As if she wouldn’t get caught.

The mere thought of her being careless enough to leave it lying around was infuriating.

I hardened my expression and stood up.

“Ouch…”

My whole body ached.

Ophelia stumbled, dragging her leg. It seemed she had sprained her ankle when kicking the wooden sword. Despite wanting to find a place to sit and rest, she endured.

I can’t go on like this. I barely managed to withstand today, but what about tomorrow? If the intensity increases, it could only get worse. Ophelia didn’t want to envision such a grim future.

And that was why Ophelia was desperately heading to the post office, dragging her aching body instead of seeking healing magic in the hospital.

“I’ll kill him. I will, for sure.”

With that thought, she approached the postmaster’s desk.

The postman tilted his head as a bedraggled woman approached, but Ophelia showed no expression as she reached into her pocket for the letter.

Or rather, she intended to.

“…Huh?”

Ophelia’s expression froze.

There was no feel of the envelope that should have been in her inner pocket.

Did I drop it? Where?

Where else could it be?

“Excuse me, miss? What…?”

“Shut up!”

The postman was startled and dropped his pen.

Ophelia dashed out of the post office, running toward the training ground.

She must have dropped it during our sparring!

Upon entering the training ground…

“I’m surprised.”

“…Ugh.”

There stood Elliot, a small smile on his face, as if he had been waiting for her.

“I never thought the Saint Lady would be so eager.”

“What?”

“I didn’t realize you wanted to practice swordsmanship so badly that you’d skip a meal. As a knight, I find it incredibly moving.”

What nonsense was this?

She came just to find the lost letter.

“No, it’s not that! I just came to get something…”

“Is this it?”

“…”

Ophelia’s face went pale.

The envelope Elliot held was indeed hers.

More accurately, it was the letter inside containing all the accusations written by the maid.

“Whoever wrote this sure had a sense of humor. Would you like to read it, Saint Lady?”

Elliot smiled devilishly.

It was a sinister grin unlike any she had ever seen.

“…”

Thud.

The strength holding up Ophelia’s legs vanished.

She sank to the ground.