Taming the Evil Saintess

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“I’m sorry. I didn’t expect things to turn out like this.”

Albrecht placed a hand on his chest and bowed his head.

I scratched the back of my head while looking at the crowd surrounding us.

Somehow, I had a feeling it would come to this.

“If you don’t want to, we could always cancel this duel.”

“Well, I mean… It wouldn’t make sense to just call it off with everyone gathered here.”

The water had already been spilled.

There’s no helping it.

All I can do is win.

“Get ready to open the treasure vault.”

“…Haha. I’m looking forward to it.”

Albrecht chuckled at my reaction and pulled out a sword from his garments.

A modest blade, lacking even a pommel.

However, it was one of Olmen’s masterpieces. In other words, it was on par with the Holy Sword I wielded.

“The rules are simple. You can use sword energy, but don’t kill your opponent. Well, there might be a few lost limbs here or there.”

“Good thing Ophelia is here.”

“Exactly.”

As I said that and glanced at the spectator stand, I noticed Ophelia making a somewhat disgruntled face.

She probably didn’t expect to be in the spotlight like this.

“Everything else is fair game. Any objections?”

“None.”

In other words, all sorts of dirty tactics are allowed.

Even the fact that we are limiting this to sword energy means that Albrecht would not use his signature Sword Power.

These rules work in my favor. He probably is looking out for me.

“Lastly.”

“Huh?”

“What about the marks?”

I asked the most important question, and Albrecht grinned.

“Why would you even ask that? This mock battle is meant to compare the power of the Divine Marks represented by the Sword Saint and the Hero, isn’t it?”

“Alright.”

The discussion was over.

Initiative is important.

I charged forward.

Swish!

I grabbed a handful of sand and threw it.

The crowd grew silent.

*

“This crazy son of a…!”

Ophelia was right. I had to win by any means necessary.

But the way I fought like that was not what she intended.

Wiping the sweat from her hands, Ophelia muttered, “Is this really what it means to be a Hero?”

Elliot’s fighting style was dirty enough to prompt such thoughts.

He’s throwing sand around. Then if he grabs a stone? He throws that too. Blinding and attacking are not very knightly, but Elliot didn’t care one bit.

And was that all? He pretended to swing his sword while tripping his opponent, and even threw in some elbows. He didn’t hesitate to attack vital points either. She caught him aiming a kick between the legs several times in that short span.

In contrast, the Sword Saint deflected all those attacks with just one sword.

“…Hmm.”

Of course, I didn’t think Elliot was lacking in skill.

Every time their swords clashed, it felt like shockwaves reverberated through the air.

The sword energy from both sides was brighter and more intense than anything Ophelia had ever seen before. Not even Benedict’s or Rowan’s could compare.

Boom!

The sound of swords clashing continued.

Elliot tried to throw a punch through the openings, but Albrecht dodged as if he were performing acrobatics.

Divinely inspired movements.

Ophelia, having trained in swordsmanship for years, had developed her own understanding of the art.

The Sword Saint’s swordsmanship was devoid of any excess. It wasn’t even a matter of being foundational; it was the very essence of foundation. The variations stemming from that perfect foundation left Elliot’s tactics effectively thwarted with minimal movement.

“Is this really the best swordsman on the continent? Impressive.”

“You, how long have you been here?”

“Haha! You really don’t pay attention, do you? I’ve been here the whole time, obviously.”

The Inquisition Officer Yurede, wrapped in bandages, had mysteriously appeared beside Ophelia to watch the match.

Ophelia cautiously glanced at Yurede and decided to speak.

“Hey, you’re pretty tough, too.”

“Indeed.”

During lessons, Yurede focused on Divine Power, so Ophelia could have beaten him. However, when it comes to real combat, using all available tactics, Yurede was quite formidable.

His loss against Cathedral Knight Rowan had been due to both aiming to subdue each other; had they intended to kill, he likely could have succeeded.

The Inquisition Officer’s tactics were more focused on killing than on subduing.

“Who do you think will win?”

“Can I be honest?”

“Go ahead.”

“I’d bet 90% of my entire fortune that the Sword Saint will win.”

“You bastard.”

As Ophelia raised her fist, Yurede instinctively recoiled, perhaps due to the Marked Fear etched in his DNA.

“N-no! Saint Lady, think about it! If the Sword Saint wins, I’ll make a lot of money, but if the Hero wins, I’ll lose a fortune!”

“Why are you making such obvious statements?”

“Now, think about it calmly. The Hero is a warrior bestowed by the gods. So if the Hero wins and I lose money, it’s like donating my riches to the divine.”

“…”

“I’d be sending a tribute to the gods.”

Yurede winked at Ophelia with a bright smile.

Without hesitation, Ophelia gave him a punch.

*

Bang!

The swords clashed.

In the next moment, Elliot’s sword twisted in his grip. He intended to take advantage of the recoil from the clash. Albrecht caught on and drew his sword back. Elliot swung a punch, but Albrecht evaded by tilting his head.

Crack!

Albrecht’s sword missed Elliot’s range effortlessly.

“Geez… that bastard’s really slippery.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?”

“Yeah, consider it high praise.”

Elliot’s words brought a beaming smile to Albrecht’s face.

The fight had been going on for over several minutes, and neither side had managed to land a solid hit. While Elliot showed signs of weariness, Albrecht maintained a steady rhythm.

In terms of swordsmanship, Albrecht certainly had the upper hand.

However, neither side had shown their full hand.

“Impressive. I’ve rarely encountered such unorthodox swordsmanship before.”

Albrecht honestly praised him.

Elliot was more than deserving of the title Hero.

Though he wielded a one-handed sword, dealing with him proved more challenging than facing other swordsmen.

It wasn’t just his sword; it was that left hand of his.

That left hand was used to throw sand, and it threw punches too. It sought to grapple by grabbing his opponent’s collar.

He didn’t think it was underhanded. Using every tactic available in real combat was completely normal.

That left hand, a bundle of variables, and his legs were enough to perplex even Albrecht, who was at the top when it came to swordplay.

Elliot was a warrior before being a swordsman.

He utilized his body to the fullest.

“Moreover, is that sword one crafted by the great Olmen?”

“Thanks for recognizing it.”

“Well, mine is also a work by Olmen.”

Albrecht acknowledged the sword Elliot wielded.

The weight of the clash embedded in the swords came partly from the sword’s performance.

It was a bold claim to label it Olmen’s ambitious creation.

“What’s the sword’s name?”

“Holy Sword.”

“It fits perfectly.”

Albrecht marveled inwardly and turned to the spectator stand.

He confirmed the eager gazes of thousands of onlookers.

“I think it’s time to move on to the next phase, don’t you?”

“That’s what I’ve been hoping for.”

Albrecht’s words seemed to strike a chord with Elliot as he lowered his stance.

The Hero’s Divine Mark inscribed on his hand began to shine.

Light started to emanate.

If till now it was a battle of pure swordplay and physical prowess, now it was time to measure the power of the Marks.

Albrecht unveiled his own mark as well.

In that moment, the thin sword that had been engulfed in blue flame-like sword energy gradually waned.

Finally, Albrecht’s sword released nothing but a transparent flow of air.

“Are you aware of my mark?”

“The Mark of the Sword God.”

“Thank goodness there’s no need for an explanation.”

The Mark of the Sword God.

This mark, which is inscribed on the greatest swordsman in the empire, grants an overwhelming advantage in a duel of swords.

“Can you take it?”

“If I couldn’t, I wouldn’t even have accepted this fight.”

Elliot exhaled deeply.

A hot breath.

Simultaneously, a mirage began to shimmer around him.

‘…The Hero’s Divine Mark.’

He knew it well.

An amplification of all physical abilities.

Its power could allow a human to challenge the realm of gods.

‘Indeed.’

Seeing it in action made it all the more convincing.

The aura rolling off him was something else entirely compared to before.

Simultaneously, a sense of competitiveness surged within Albrecht.

He smirked.

And then—

Boom!

The sound erupted like a bomb going off, and suddenly Elliot was right in front of him.

He swung his sword.

There would be no blocking this. The only warriors who could take this hit were the Golden Lion of the South and the Captain of the Imperial Guards of the Ice Palace in the North.

Albrecht wasn’t adept in strength contests.

Thus, he merely ‘slotted’ his glimmering transparent blade in against Elliot’s devastating path.

Bang!

The sound of bursting air rang out.

Elliot’s sword passed right through Albrecht’s blade.

“…Tch.”

Had they actually collided, his sword might have shattered.

But Albrecht’s sword simply ignored Elliot’s strike.

The effect of the Mark of the Sword God was—

“I see it’s truly a cheat, that Fluid Sword.”

“Haha, you think you’re the only one who can do that?”

Albrecht’s grin widened.

Before long, the sword he was holding transitioned into a long curved blade shape.