Taming the Evil Saintess

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Fluid Sword.

The active and passive skill of the Sword Saint’s mark, as presented in the game, was a bit simplified. In-game, every time Albrecht swung his sword, its form changed, and all attacks dealt damage that ignored defenses.

With terrifying base specs and the effects of his equipped items combined, the Sword Saint Albrecht was a character who could almost guarantee victory in a head-to-head battle.

However, seeing Albrecht’s mark up close in reality, I couldn’t help but think the game had failed to capture it accurately.

Why, you ask?

Swish!

Albrecht’s Fluid Sword was even more cheat-like than I had initially anticipated.

I raised my sword to block. It didn’t just block. Albrecht’s blade had already transformed into a flexible form that nearly entangled my Holy Sword and pierced deeply into my chest.

I barely managed to dodge, thanks to my heightened senses; otherwise, this duel would have ended woefully.

“Huff.”

I stepped back a few paces and took a deep breath.

Albrecht’s blade had already morphed into the shape of a dagger.

“…This is tough, really tough.”

A battle between swordsmen is a clash of spaces.

Each swordsman has their own unique space. The various harmonies arising from the collision of those two spaces create the essence of swordsmanship.

However, the mark of the sword deity that Albrecht possesses.

This mark overturns the very concept of space.

If Albrecht’s sword takes on a specific form, it can change into anything at all. Not only the length of the blade and its direction but also the appearance of the pommel and hilt, and whether or not the cross-guard exists. The strength of the transformed sword surpasses that of a typical renowned blade.

Just like earlier, he could engage in long-distance combat in the form of a saber or perform an attack in the shape of a katana.

Also.

Cling!

Just as I managed to deflect the dagger, another sword was gripped tightly in his other hand.

Nitoryu.

The Fluid Sword can even multiply the number of weapons.

A series of rapid strikes came flying at me. My shoulder was barely grazed.

I swung my Holy Sword with all my might, but it struck nothing.

A whiff. Albrecht did not evade. My all-out strike did not land on him.

No matter how overwhelming my physical abilities might be, if my senses are violated, I cannot land a decisive blow.

It felt as if my sense of distance had been completely twisted.

‘This is seriously unfair.’

Before I knew it, the sword in Albrecht’s hand had returned to its original form.

Fluid Sword. I prepared myself, but it was far trickier than I thought.

It wasn’t merely the large number of weapons; it was the ability to swap countless swords without delay in an instant. That was an astounding advantage beyond my expectations.

Of course, this mark only holds meaning with Albrecht’s god-like swordsmanship. Merely having a variety of swords means nothing if they can’t be utilized effectively.

In terms of swordsmanship, Albrecht is the continent’s greatest talent. Mastering every type of sword means he bears no penalties.

“Hah.”

I stepped back and scrutinized Albrecht’s posture.

From this stance, I could not read the direction he was aiming.

Even if I could read it and succeeded in my gamble, the moment I move to counter that line of attack, Albrecht’s sword would take on a new form.

“Dammit.”

Curses slipped from my mouth.

“This game sucks.”

*

When the Golden Lion Azar de Elbrecht arrived in the imperial capital after leaving Auriga, the heat of the duel was at its peak.

Guided to the spectator stand, he took his seat, and a destructive scene was unfolding in the training grounds.

“Hmmm.”

Azar had crossed many trajectories and faced numerous strong opponents.

Even for him, the duel before his eyes was truly eye-catching.

Hero Elliot charged forward, swinging his sword with reckless abandon. Each slash caused the air to shimmer, blurring the space around him. Opposing him, Sword Saint Albrecht was seasoned. He wielded various forms of swords and the swordsmanship derived from them to face that giant.

“Impressive.”

Azar had come to the imperial capital partly because his territory affairs were complete, but also because Elliot was announced as a hero.

The news he received upon arrival was that the hero was to duel the sword saint.

Witnessing Elliot’s prowess firsthand was enough to make even Azar feel admiration.

He seemed stronger and more technically skilled than during their encounter at Labre Castle.

‘Has he… grown accustomed to the mark?’

He realized that if he fought again now, he could never win.

Such thoughts came naturally given how amazing it was.

However, the opponent was tough.

The Sword Saint was the nemesis of all warriors.

Moreover, in a mock battle where any effective hit meant defeat, he couldn’t employ strategies that would leave him vulnerable.

“…”

While lost in thought, a man sat down beside Azar.

This could be easily overlooked, but Azar’s instincts were sharp.

Above all, he had grown accustomed to the smell of dark mages and their demons over the past few months.

“What’s a piece of trash from the Demon King’s army doing here?”

Crunch.

Without even looking, Azar reached out, grabbing the man’s neck.

The man, whose neck was caught, emitted no sound of pain at all.

“…A chimera?”

“Hahaha, sharp as ever, Golden Lion.”

Despite clearly being choked, the man’s voice was unaffected at all.

It must be the sorcerer controlling the chimera.

Azar knew one officer who was involved in the creation of chimeras in the Demon King’s army.

“Idmien, have you developed a taste for lewdness? Such a perverse habit.”

“Don’t take it too far.”

“Were you trying to check on the hero? A high-ranking officer conducting reconnaissance, how luxurious.”

“Hah, I appreciate the compliment, but believe me, I’m working hard in my own way.”

The chimera—or rather, Idmien—gazed down at the duel of the sword saint and hero with an expressionless face.

“Well, I expected as much, but it’s surprising. Geldmier will be quite pleased.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Did you know that this Elliot fellow is a possessor?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Tch. Show a little surprise, would you?”

Idmien clicked his tongue and continued in a voice full of amusement.

“What do you think would happen if the saintess or the sword saint found out that the hero is a possessor?”

“….”

“You might not have known this, but the sword saint has already lost comrades to possessors. And the saintess… well, if she hears that the man who saved her was a possessor, she wouldn’t be shocked? What do you think?”

“…That’s absurd.”

“Hmm?”

“That’s the coward’s way of thinking.”

“Hahaha, true. I’m not keen on all-out war, after all. I’d suffer losses, too.”

Azar grimaced in displeasure.

“Get lost.”

With those words, he tightened his fist, and the chimera’s neck instantly crumpled.

No body remained. It dissolved into the air, accompanied by black smoke.

The people around didn’t even bat an eye. Their eyes were all glued to the arena.

“…”

Possessors.

Azar couldn’t have cared less about the fact that the hero was a possessor; still, he held no optimistic thoughts that all mark holders would be favorable toward them.

Possessors are cunning. They approach powerful individuals who could be a threat under the Demon King’s orders, attempting to either recruit or eliminate them. The possessor Richard, who approached Azar, was no different.

“…How laughable.”

Azar let out a scoff.

Whatever the case, this wasn’t something to ponder at the moment.

This news needed to reach the hero…

Boom!

“Wowww!”

Lost in thought, a deafening cheer erupted.

Gazing down once again, Azar’s eyes widened.

Elliot was going on a rampage.

His physical abilities were significantly amplified by the effects of the mark.

The hero was turning the ground upside down.

“…Ho ho.”

*

Albrecht was thrown into confusion.

Elliot’s blade struck like lightning. Just minimal contact could be fatal, but he wasn’t aiming at Albrecht.

The Holy Sword driven into the ground exuded a maddening blade aura, kicking up dirt all over the training grounds.

It wasn’t merely to obscure visibility.

“This is….”

Albrecht frowned.

The previously solid ground of the training area quaked.

The ground itself split and twisted.

The very earth beneath his feet was crumbling.

In that split second, Elliot rushed in and swung his sword.

He attempted to counter by transforming his sword but struck the ground right beneath Albrecht.

Boom!

Both feet lifted off the ground.

Simultaneously, Elliot twisted his sword in a grotesque path to attack.

Swordsmanship impossible for a normal human.

Yet the hero had the overwhelming physical abilities to realize it.

It was no human’s swordsmanship; it was closer to that of a demon.

Bending the very notion of common sense with sheer physical capabilities.

Moreover, Albrecht was currently in a situation where his own space was being destroyed.

‘Huh…’

He was just beginning to realize.

What Elliot had attacked was similar to what Albrecht had done to him all this time: it was to violate his senses.

To counter the unconventional sword, one had to break the very rules of engagement.

Elliot had shattered the mold.

Brutishly.

But effectively.

“…”

Albrecht tried to plant his feet and counter with his sword, but.

“…Ugh!”

His vision spun and swayed.

One foot slid down the slope.

That was the first opening Albrecht had shown, and Elliot would not let it slip away.

That was the fatal mistake.

Bang!

Elliot’s sword pommel struck Albrecht’s breastplate precisely.