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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Lord Fourth
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Golden sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows of the grand cathedral.
A solemn atmosphere filled the air as numerous devotees gathered, their eyes gleaming with anticipation for the miracle they were about to witness.
As the clock struck the appointed hour, a devotee stepped forward, cradling a newborn baby in their arms.
At the very center of the cathedral, upon a throne adorned with a scepter, sat a young girl.
With silver hair, brilliant emerald eyes flecked with gold, and a pure white holy robe that mirrored her hair, she captivated every gaze in the room.
“….”
The sight was not just beautiful, but divine.
Standing at a distance, hand resting on the hilt of my sword, I watched her, the thought forming in my mind that a goddess had, impossibly, manifested.
Of course, the girl was not a god. However, in this world, she was the human closest to divinity.
“Saintess!”
“Lady Ophelia! Please, grant us a miracle…!”
“Oooooh!”
The devotee holding the baby called out to the girl with an awestruck expression, followed by a chorus of voices.
The girl, Saintess Ophelia Meredith, a benevolent smile gracing her lips, slowly descended the steps.
Reaching the crowd, she gently took the baby from the devotee and whispered softly.
That alone was enough for the god to answer.
Swooooosh.
Golden light poured down from the ceiling. Divine power, one of the fundamental forces of this world.
The divine blessing bestowed by the saint, favored by the gods, was etched onto the newborn baby.
The blessing ceremony, a ritual performed immediately after birth for every member of this world.
There was something similar back on Earth, if I recall correctly.
“A miracle! It’s a miracle!”
“Ahhhh…! Oh, Heavenly God, Oh Saintess, lead us to paradise!”
“Forgive our sins!!”
The devotees, having witnessed the miracle with their own eyes, exclaimed their praises, their voices filled with reverence for the divine miracle and the beautiful saint who performed it.
Frankly, it was a bit much.
“….”
How much time had passed? Finally, having completed the blessing ceremony, the girl closed one eye slightly, a faint smile appeared on her lips.
The devotees, overcome with emotion at having witnessed the saint’s smile and captivated by her beauty, sighed in admiration.
Gradually, the devotees began to disperse, until only silence remained in the cathedral.
Ophelia turned, her eyes closed for a moment, before letting out a small breath. And as if that were a signal, the serene atmosphere surrounding her instantly shifted.
“Fuck.”
The delicate words that escaped the saint’s lips were nothing short of a curse.
Opening her eyes, Ophelia’s expression was as if she had chewed up not one, but at least ten bugs.
“I can’t stand doing this anymore.”
Who would ever think of this girl as a saint? The transformation was that drastic.
The mystical and benevolent aura of the saint was gone, replaced by a spiteful and irritable, almost villainous demeanor.
“Blabber, blabber, blabber. This is the absolute worst. Why does the saint have to perform the blessing ceremony? And those commoners too. Why do they have to come all the way to the main cathedral for mass when they can just go to their local church? Fucking hell.”
“…Don’t they need a place to rely on?”
“Then what about me? Who do I rely on?”
“God, I presume.”
“Because I’m the saint?”
“Yes.”
Thwack.
The sound of Ophelia kicking my shin. It didn’t hurt, but it was a kick filled with frustration.
“Elliot.”
Ophelia spoke. Elliot. My name in this world.
“Shouldn’t you at least be on my side, Elliot? You’re my knight, aren’t you?”
“I’m simply stating the facts. And I’m not your knight, Ophelia. I am a knight of God.”
“…You little worm.”
Glaring at me with crescent moon-shaped eyes for a moment, Ophelia let out a low sigh and brushed past me.
“What’s the point? Talking to this idiot is just a waste of breath.”
The true identity of Saintess Ophelia, as it turned out, was closer to that of a villainess.
Even back on Earth, the word “saintess” evoked images of a benevolent and compassionate woman.
In that sense, Ophelia completely defied my expectations. I couldn’t help but wonder why God had bestowed such immense power upon a woman with such a terrible personality.
If He was going to give it to someone, He could have given it to me.
“I shall inform you of your afternoon schedule,” I said, quickly following behind her.
“After lunch, Archbishop Belwin…”
“Not going.”
“He requests your presence.”
“Tell that old geezer to come here himself.”
I sighed at her words. Even for a remarkable saintess, ordering the head of a diocese around was absurd.
And calling him an “old geezer”? If I dared to utter such words, I wouldn’t get off with just losing my head.
“This is getting tiring….”
I muttered under my breath, making sure Ophelia couldn’t hear.
It had been six years since I was dragged into this world. Two years since I became a paladin.
Now, I found myself surviving as the escort knight of the saintess… no, the villainess Ophelia.
It all started with a game. Sword & Magic Chronicle. It wasn’t a particularly famous game, more of a niche title. Still, it had a decent following for a lesser-known game.
The genre was a simple simulation RPG. A typical, straightforward story where you gather various companions, form a party with the hero as the leader, strategize, and defeat the Demon King.
I bought the game during a spring sale, cheaper than a Big Mac, and it hit all the right spots for me.
It wasn’t a groundbreaking game. The story was unremarkable, the setting borrowed heavily from other sources.
But the strategic depth was impressive, the content volume generous for the price, and there were plenty of elements to delve into.
Despite its flaws, once you started playing, it was more enjoyable than most triple-A games. Kind of like the charm of a strong-flavored stew.
I think I played it obsessively for over a month. And when I finally defeated the Demon King and reached 100% completion, I was pulled into this world.
Not as the hero, but as a nameless, commoner mercenary. Suddenly thrown into the game world alone, I was desperate to survive. The mercenary contract was no different from a slave contract. Escape meant decapitation, the pay was meager compared to the hardships, and I wasn’t treated like a human being. I had no choice but to fight with all my might, surviving countless near-death experiences.
After nearly four years of living by the sword, all my superiors had either died or retired, and somehow, I had become the leader of the mercenary group.
That very day, I retired from the mercenary life and sought refuge in the church.
There wasn’t any particular reason. The time I was transported to was about ten years before the main story of the game began.
The Demon King hadn’t appeared yet, and the world was relatively peaceful. However, the Demon King’s army would soon rise, plunging the entire continent into war.
I had no intention of fighting the Demon King’s army directly.
I had learned the hard way over the past four years, scrambling to survive, that I wasn’t the protagonist. So, I recalled my knowledge of the game.
The safest and most secure position, the so-called “iron rice bowl,” was that of a paladin in the church.
Anyone with skill and faith could become a paladin. For a lowly commoner like me, there was no better option.
Fortunately, the bishop of the city recognized my skills as a mere mercenary and granted me a position far beyond my station: Escort Knight to Saintess Ophelia.
Saintess Ophelia Meredith. She was a character in the game. The healer of the hero’s party and the number one companion to recruit.
Even in the game, she was the only pure healer, and since she wasn’t lacking in both swordsmanship or magic, she was a reliable character in any party composition.
Ophelia, armed with these incredible specs, a charming illustration, and a sweet voice, naturally boasted the highest selection rate in the game.
I became the escort knight of such an Ophelia. At first, I rejoiced. Finally, an opportunity had come my way.
The four years of back-breaking work were finally being rewarded, I thought.
But the moment I met her in person, I realized I was terribly mistaken.
‘You’re the insect, the worthless commoner who’s supposed to escort me?’
Those were her first words.
‘Hmph. You look so pathetic, it makes me want to squash you.’
Slap.
As I stood there dumbfounded, Ophelia slowly approached and slapped me.
The absurd reason? Daring to not lower my head in her presence. She then raised her foot, kicked my shin, forcing me to kneel, and stuck out her bare foot.
‘Kneel. And obey. Or would you rather lick my feet? Remember, you’re my dog. No, you’re worse than a dog, you’re a worm.’
The memory still makes my blood boil. Ophelia’s image in the game was, quite literally, that of a saint.
Benevolent, kind, soft-spoken, and above all, beautiful. She was the epitome of a saintess. But the Ophelia I met in person…
“What are you staring at?”
“….”
My thoughts were interrupted as our eyes met. Ophelia tilted her head, seemingly puzzled by my staring, then raised an eyebrow and smirked.
“Aha! Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for me?”
“What?”
I jerked my head up at her ridiculous remark, to be met with Ophelia’s mocking grin.
“No need to deny it. Even a simpleton like Elliot can’t help but be captivated by my beautiful face, can he?”
“….”
“That’s a problem, you know. I already have countless suitors proposing to me. If Elliot’s name were to be added to the bottom of that list, how could this sinful saint confess to God?”
Despite her words, the corners of her mouth twitched.
“Aha! Don’t tell me you’re planning to pounce on me just because this is my bedroom? Because if you do, I’ll plunge a dagger into your fat belly, so be warned.”
Her frivolous behavior, the complete lack of any semblance of faith… Was this really the same saintess from the game?
I sighed deeply, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders.
“What, what’s with that sigh?!”
“I’m just… worried about the fate of the world.”
“Whaaat?!”
Ophelia’s eyes widened, and she started yelling, but I tuned her out. I finally understood.
The reason the bishop had given me, a lowly commoner mercenary, the position of Ophelia’s escort knight wasn’t because he recognized my skills, but because there wasn’t a single knight who could handle Ophelia’s atrocious personality.
In other words, I was the sucker who drew the short straw.
‘This is insane.’
It had been a year and a half since I became Ophelia’s escort knight. From our first meeting until now, she had constantly tormented me.
Insults were a daily occurrence, she’d hit me on the back of the head with a wooden sword under the guise of swordsmanship practice, and she’d even thrown food in my face because she didn’t like the taste.
One day, she put bugs in my food and laughed, calling it the tragedy of intraspecies conflict.
This torment wasn’t limited to me; she treated the other servants the same way.
In the year and a half I’d been her escort, more than ten servants had quit. It would be a lie to say it wasn’t frustrating.
Being humiliated like this by someone younger than me… it was infuriating. I’d thought about giving up and running away countless times.
The archbishop and the other knights thought I wouldn’t last a month, but I persevered.
The reason, of course, was that Ophelia was a key character in this game. In other words…
Knock, knock, knock.
A knock came from Ophelia’s door.
“Who is it?”
“I told you. Archbishop Belwin said he has business with you this afternoon.”
The fact that he had come himself instead of sending someone meant that even the archbishop anticipated being refused.
“Ugh, that old geezer is here to nag me again? Tell him to get lost. Don’t open the door.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Hey!”
Even if it was the saintess’s order, the archbishop was my direct superior.
I opened the door to reveal an elderly man with snow-white hair, leaning on a cane. His hand gripping the cane trembled slightly.
Ophelia, who had ordered this very man, who could barely move, to come to her, made a disgusted face the moment she saw the archbishop and clicked her tongue.
“You’ve had a long journey, Belwin. I should have gone to see you.”
“Not at all. You have your own duties, don’t you? Protecting the Saintess is your priority.”
“Hmph.”
Ophelia turned over on her bed with a bored expression. Archbishop Belwin slowly entered the room and sat across from the table, letting out a sigh.
“Ophelia.”
He called her name, but she ignored him. Belwin sighed again and shook his head. I leaned against the wall, observing his face. His complexion was unusually dark.
“Has something bad happened?” I asked.
Belwin couldn’t hide his troubled expression. He hesitated, tapping the head of his cane, before finally speaking.
“Ophelia, you should listen too. This is important for you as well.”
“Fuck off.”
A cold reply. Belwin continued, undeterred.
“News has arrived from the northern diocese.”
The north… Could it be?
“…The Demon King has been resurrected.”
“What?”
At those words, Ophelia bolted upright in bed. I feigned a serious expression.
At last, it had finally come.
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Hi Lord Fourth here!
I’m still new to translating as this is my second novel to pick up, so if you find some mistakes or inconsistencies let me know about it on the dedicated channel on discord.
Looks good
Thanks for the chapter!