Taming the Evil Saintess

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A week has passed.

To be precise, an entire week has passed.

“Alright, strike a pose, and I’m taking the picture!”

“Um….”

“Hey! Hero, hold still! It’s just a minute!”

“No….”

‘Haven’t I been hearing that for half a day already?’

That thought almost escaped my mouth, but I held it in.

Being a Hero was a total disaster.

Since the day I disclosed my identity at the trial, I had been stuck with imperial dignitaries for nearly a week. They took pictures for the press and even made me read a declaration that resembled a press conference.

Unlike the Saint, the Empire pretended to be a democratic republic under an authoritarian cabinet. They even claimed freedom of the press.

And if that wasn’t enough? They insisted that a Hero shouldn’t look shabby and subjected me to etiquette training, hounding me for a polished appearance with full make-up from ladies with an obsession for appearances that I had never encountered on Earth.

I felt like a living doll.

When I stood before the mirror after the makeover, I barely recognized myself.

Perhaps it was because the original version, Elliot, was decent-looking, but with the added decorations, I looked like a celebrity.

“Hahahahaha! What’s that!?”

Erwin laughed at me.

“Uh, uh….”

Ophelia, seemingly caught in cognitive dissonance, gasped and fled.

Was I really that mismatched?

I thought I had a decent face.

“Well, just hang in there.”

Albrecht smirked.

Of course, the smile on the face of the Sword Saint practically beamed with joy. It was the moment a new star was rising to replace him, who was like the symbol of the Empire.

I had the feeling that Albrecht genuinely joyed at the emergence of a scapegoat to take his place.

“Don’t worry. There’ll be an article about the Saint tomorrow, so you’ll feel a bit more relaxed.”

Albrecht’s words were true.

Through the next agenda of the conference that day, a decision regarding the treatment of the Cathedral of the Saint was made.

The Cathedral had sunk so low that it barely held a spot in the Continental Union. Given the events that transpired, this was only the expected outcome.

The only thing to hold onto was Saint Ophelia, the only possessor of the Divine Mark of the Saint, who had just requested asylum in the Empire.

From the Empire’s perspective, there was no reason to refuse.

The future of the Cathedral, which had lost its identity as the Saint, was bleak.

Well, I should probably be thankful that we weren’t completely dissolved.

“Ophelia, are you okay?”

“Living as a refugee shouldn’t be too bad. Plus, you moved your allegiance to the Empire, right?”

“Well, that’s true.”

“I’m going to follow you.”

She said it so nonchalantly that I merely shrugged my shoulders.

“Anyway, I have to get busy soon.”

“Are you talking about that training?”

“Yes. It’s fun to finally get to fight someone after a long time.”

“….”

During the week I spent held captive, Ophelia had been receiving lessons on the operation of Divine Power from Inquisition Officer Yurede, who transferred to the Imperial National Church.

In truth, it was less of a lesson and more of a spar where Ophelia unleashed her Divine Power while Yurede bore the brunt of it.

Initially boasting of introducing her to Holy Magic, Yurede was left in shock when he realized that Ophelia’s actual combat ability far surpassed his expectations.

On the first day of lessons, Yurede returned covered in blood.

He had been thoroughly beaten by Ophelia.

“Are you okay?”

“It’s just a stigmata (nods).”

Well, if he had the energy to utter such nonsense, he must be fine.

Anyway, after a tumultuous week had passed, I finally completed the necessary procedures to be recognized as a Hero and was released.

The next day, while resting at my residence, Albrecht came to visit me.

“I’m here for a duel.”

“A duel?”

“Just to see whose strength is superior.”

Albrecht had a serious demeanor.

A mock battle with the Sword Saint.

Truth be told, it was a tempting offer.

Opportunities to fight against someone dubbed the continent’s strongest swordsman were rare.

Though there was Azar, a strong warrior, he wasn’t a swordsman. It would likely be more beneficial for me to spar with Albrecht, who wielded a sword.

Above all, a few weeks ago, facing the Shadow of God made me realize my swordsmanship was lacking. I thought that perhaps a duel with the Sword Saint would help me ascend another level.

As I pondered this, Albrecht upped the ante by suggesting a wager.

“How about a bet if you’re having doubts?”

“A bet?”

“If I win, you become an Honorary Knight of the Imperial Knight Order.”

Honorary Knight.

There wasn’t any real binding power under the Knight Order; it seemed he merely wanted to attach the title of Hero to the Order.

“And if I win?”

“You still become an Honorary Knight.”

“That’s meaningless then.”

“That’s true.”

Albrecht seemed to ponder for a moment before smiling.

“In that case, if you win, I’ll give you one of my family’s artifacts.”

I widened my eyes.

Albrecht von Ridensstein.

His family had amassed wealth as the Empire’s oldest knight family since ancient times.

In other words, there would likely be some top-notch artifacts in the Ridensstein vault. In fact, the Sword Saint who joined our party in the game was a character gloriously decked out in magical items.

“Can you decide that on your own? What about the elders of the family?”

“For now, since I’m nominally the next head of the family, can’t I do anything? Besides, isn’t it a big deal for the Empire’s Sword Saint to give an artifact to a Hero?”

This was quite tempting.

I hesitated for a moment and then raised my hand.

“Just wait a bit.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure if Ophelia will allow it.”

If I were to mention the potential danger, she’d probably get all worked up and protest vehemently.

While I could perhaps bend Geldmier’s sword, I couldn’t break Ophelia’s stubbornness.

That wisdom was gained over the last three years.

“….”

Albrecht wore a very complicated expression.

“Can I ask what your relationship with the Saint is?”

“We’re just a Saint and a Hero…?”

“Hmm….”

Albrecht seemed to have a lot to say.

“In that case, make sure to discuss it with your wife, or rather, between a Hero and a Saint.”

With those words, Albrecht left.

*

That evening, I sought out Ophelia.

She appeared more relieved, likely from beating Yurede to a pulp.

“Did the lessons end?”

“Yep. That idiot Yurede ended up crawling on all fours in front of me.”

“…Isn’t that a bit harsh on Yurede? He is your lifesaver, after all.”

“That guy is a pervert who loves to get beaten.”

“Well, that’s true, but….”

I laid out my case.

Once I explained the situation, Ophelia rested her chin on her hand and looked at me.

“Do you think you can win?”

“It’s not really about winning or losing. It’s just a practice duel after all. I’m also curious about the Sword Saint’s level of skill.”

“Anyway, you better win.”

“Eh?”

“Make that guy eat dirt. If you lose, I won’t let it slide.”

“Are you capable of keeping me in check?”

“You little….”

As Ophelia growled, I took a few steps back.

“Okay. If you lose, I’ll bite my tongue.”

“Wait, my tongue?”

“Of course, not mine! What are you, crazy! Naturally, I mean my own!”

Ophelia threw a punch.

“Regardless, you must win without fail. How can a Hero lose to the Sword Saint? What am I supposed to do with my face then?”

“What’s losing have to do with your dignity?”

“…It’s just like that!”

Ophelia vehemently denied it while I merely nodded.

Thinking about it calmly, could I defeat the Sword Saint?

If I used my mark, I wouldn’t be without a chance.

However….

“Honestly, my chances of winning probably aren’t that high. The Sword Saint is strong enough to be called the strongest on the continent.”

“Then you should aspire to be the strongest in the world.”

“What do you think of me, Ophelia?”

“Of course, you’re the world’s strongest Hero.”

“….”

Ophelia’s cheeks flushed when she said that.

“I guess you’re not sure of what you’re saying.”

“…Anyway!”

Ophelia suddenly turned her head away.

“Just you try to lose…! I won’t let it go!”

“Well… I’ll do my best.”

That evening, I conveyed my decision to the Sword Saint.

The date was set for two days later.

Then came the day of the duel.

“….”

Standing on the Imperial Guards’ training grounds, I frowned.

“Didn’t we say it was just a practice duel?”

“I said that, but….”

“What’s with this crowd filling the arena?”

The spectators packed all around me.

It felt like a scene out of the Colosseum.

Temporary seating had been set up on the training grounds, and dignitaries from various nations, including Eldarian and Erwin, were in attendance.

There were banners too, emblazoned with the Ridensstein insignia.

On one side of the crowd, a vendor was selling souvenirs shaped like the Hero’s Divine Mark, and even gamblers seemed to have set up shop betting on the outcome of the duel.

“That’s….”

Albrecht sighed quietly and finally spoke.

“It seems like His Majesty the Emperor took a liking to this duel.”

“….”

“I mentioned that I’d be opening the treasure vault, and it somehow made its way to the Imperial Palace.”

“Tsk.”

Time and time again, I have to say, the position of Hero is just trash.