Taming The Evil Saintess – Chapter 2

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Lord Fourth
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The Demon King. The final boss of Sword & Magic Chronicle, the damned game I’d been sucked into. That fact remained unchanged in this world.

The Demon King was a symbol of destruction, a being whose very existence warped the natural order of the world, instilling fear in all who inhabited the continent.

A cyclical entity, repeating a cycle of death and resurrection every few hundred years, intent on destroying the world.

Each time, the world would choose a new hero, and the hero would defeat the Demon King.

This was the tenth advent of the Demon King recorded in history.

“Are you certain of this information?”

“Yes. The Bishop of the Northern Diocese relayed the information directly. It’s reliable.”

The Demon King had been resurrected. In other words, the main storyline of the game had begun.

Of course, there were still about three years until the main story officially kicked off.

“Has the hero been found?”

“Not yet. But the Goddess’s Mark will appear on the hero within a few years.”

“The Mark….”

I murmured, nodding my head. The main story of Sword & Magic Chronicle began when the hero received the Goddess’s Mark.

The Mark. A mysterious symbol that appeared only on a select few chosen by the gods. The Mark itself bestowed immense power.

In the game, the Mark was the dividing line between named characters and extras. Companion characters with the Mark possessed tremendous power.

These named characters were often referred to as “Mark-born” and were indispensable members of the main party.

“We don’t know when the Hero’s Mark will appear, but this news will soon spread throughout the continent like wildfire.”

“Heroes will emerge.”

“Indeed.”

Belwin nodded.

“The Elven King of the Great Forest, the Emperor of the Empire, and the Tsar of the Ice Palace have already declared their intent to subjugate the Demon King. Our Holy City will likely make its stance clear soon as well.”

That was only natural. Subjugating the Demon King was the very reason the church was founded.

Moreover, the Holy City housed the continent’s most renowned “Mark bearer.” To be precise, she was in this very room.

“….”

Belwin’s gaze shifted towards the bed. I followed his gaze. Our eyes met with Ophelia’s, who had been watching us. Her emerald eyes narrowed.

“What?!”

Ophelia yelled, sitting up abruptly. As she did, the front of her holy robe slipped slightly, revealing the ‘Mark’ etched below her collarbone.

The Mark was a hexagram, a cross intersecting diagonally at its center, surrounded by a streamlined outline.

Excluding the unparalleled Hero’s Mark, it was the highest among all Marks – the Mark of the Heavenly God, the most sacred Mark passed down only to the nuns of the church.

It was the Mark Ophelia possessed. In other words, the Goddess had chosen Ophelia to be the one to defeat the Demon King.

“Ophelia….”

Belwin began slowly.

“The Demon King has appeared. This means that the Saintess of the Church must save the world.”

“….”

“Who else could it be but you? You know the story well, don’t you? As the bearer of the divine Mark, the Saintess of the Church must aid the hero, defeat the Demon King, and bring the divine light of God to the world….”

“…Hahaha.”

Ophelia, who had been listening silently, got out of bed. She frowned so deeply that a crease formed between her brows.

She slowly approached Belwin and kicked the table. The legs snapped, and the table collapsed. Belwin’s eyebrows twitched.

“You want me to subjugate him? The Demon King?”
“…I understand that it’s difficult to accept, but…”
“Fuck off.”

Ophelia said in a cold, flat voice. Belwin wasn’t surprised. Neither was I. Of course, with Ophelia’s personality, she wouldn’t accept it.

In the game, Ophelia joined the hero’s party, declaring her intent to defeat the Demon King in accordance with God’s revelation.

But the Ophelia of this world was somewhat different from the game.

No… she was very different. She wasn’t the type to obediently say, “Yes, I understand.”

“You force me to sit here, and now you want me to dedicate myself to the world? Fuck, does the Heavenly God have no eye for people? What do you take me for? A pawn?”

“Ophelia! Refrain from insulting God! This is…”

“Like I care? Let divine punishment fall upon me if you’re so upset. Or tell him to take this Mark back. I don’t need it.”

Baring one shoulder, Ophelia continued, her eyelids twitching.

“There are plenty of people who want to kill the Demon King anyway. Let them handle it.”

“It’s going to be difficult with just the hero…”

“Then tell them to bring others! Take Elliot, for instance!”

Ophelia pointed at me, shouting. Our eyes met. She stared at me for a moment, then shuddered and turned away.

“Where are you going?”

“Don’t follow me!”

Slam! The bedroom door slammed shut.

“…Sigh.”

Belwin finally let out a deep sigh. He must have expected this outcome.

“What are we going to do…?”

“Well, we still have time.”

Considering the game’s storyline, the hero would appear in three years. Until then…

“Even with time, I doubt she’ll ever agree.”

“Tsk.”

I agreed with Belwin. During the year and a half I’d been escorting Ophelia, I’d held onto a sliver of hope that she might change, that she might become as kind as she was in the game.

But now, I knew it was impossible.

No matter how hard I tried, there was no hope for Ophelia’s redemption.

I had come to a conclusion long ago. Ophelia Meredith was inherently evil.

“….”

Could the hero’s party defeat the Demon King without Ophelia? It wasn’t impossible.

In the game, while Ophelia was a character who joined the main story, whether or not to recruit her was entirely up to the player.

However, the game’s difficulty was drastically different depending on her presence.

In the game, Ophelia was the one and only healer. Her value far exceeded that of other companions. Reality would likely be no different.

As Ophelia suggested, there was the option of me joining the hero’s party directly.

However, I didn’t believe I, a transmigrator, could defeat the Demon King.

Without any special transmigrator perks or even a Mark, defeating the Demon King was as impossible as breaking a rock with an egg.

Therefore, all I could do was hope that the hero’s party would succeed. And for that to happen, Ophelia had to join them.

“…Archbishop.” I spoke.

“I will try to persuade the Saintess.”

“You?”

Belwin’s eyes widened in surprise. He probably hadn’t expected me, the one who endured Ophelia’s daily tantrums, to volunteer.

But I was quite desperate. Ophelia had to join the hero’s party and defeat the Demon King, one way or another.

Only with peace in the world could I live a comfortable life.

“Archbishop, in exchange for persuading the Saintess, there are a few things you must allow me to do.”
“…What is it?”
“It might be a bit… drastic.”
“…Drastic, you say?”

Belwin asked back, aghast, but instead of answering, I simply raised the corners of my lips. It was no longer the time to be picky about methods.

“Fuck.”

Lying sprawled on the flowerbed in the cathedral’s backyard, Ophelia Meredith muttered a curse.

She’d lost count of how many times she’d cursed already. But what could she do when she was angry?

“Who does he think he is, ordering me around? He doesn’t give a damn about my opinion.”

Ophelia was narcissistic. And proud. Subjugating the Demon King? She didn’t even want to think about it. It was dangerous. It was bothersome. More than anything, she was furious that it wasn’t her choice to make.

How many choices had she been given in her life? She didn’t want to think about it. Just the thought made the skin around her Mark tingle.

“Fuck.”

With that, she sat up. She needed to vent her overflowing anger. Usually, she’d find someone to pick on.

Maids were too quick to cry, which was annoying.

Devotees were no fun because they followed her every word without complaint.

Knights were the best, preferably those of low birth, so there wouldn’t be any repercussions.

A blond-haired knight caught her eye.

“Haha.”

Elliot. Her escort knight, a commoner with no family name, was approaching her. Ophelia smiled triumphantly.

He was lowborn, taciturn, and no matter how much she tormented him, he never even thought of rebelling. There was no better toy than him.

“Perfect.”

Ophelia got up from the flowerbed and trotted over to Elliot. Elliot simply looked down at her, his expression unchanged.

The difference in height fueled her nonexistent anger.

“Hey.”

No response. As expected, it irritated her. Ophelia scowled and yelled, “Answer me, you worm!”

That was when it happened.

Slap.

The world spun. Or so it felt for a fleeting moment.

Ophelia then realized that her head had snapped to the side.

But why? As that thought crossed her mind, a burning sensation surged through her cheek.

Pain. She touched it; it stung and throbbed.

“…Huh?”

She couldn’t comprehend what had just happened.

Had she just been slapped? By whom? By this knight? By a commoner, no less?

Ophelia stared up at Elliot with wide, uncomprehending eyes.

He stood there, his hand still raised. With an indifferent expression and half-lidded eyes, he looked down at her and said,

“From now on, or rather, from this moment forward, any insults directed at me will be punished with a slap. Understood?”

Strangely, Ophelia thought she saw the corner of Elliot’s lips twitch. As if he were mocking her.

Hiccup.

Ophelia hiccuped.

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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.