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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Lord Fourth
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Swooooosh.
The light that had filled the sky gradually faded. I let out a small sigh. The very breath I exhaled felt different.
I placed my hand on my chest and felt the mark etched onto my body, a product of divine power.
“….”
It was my first time, but it seemed to have gone well. A vow. A geas. I had essentially borrowed money from God, the divine loan shark.
The binding force of the contract was now etched onto my very being. This should send a clear message.
I looked at Ophelia. Her face was pale.
“You… you…”
“Yes.”
“Are you an idiot?”
She said.
“Are you crazy? Who uses a geas for something like this?!”
“Is it wrong?”
“Of course it is! You’ve essentially made your life a hostage to God! If you fail to fulfill the geas, you won’t even be able to die!”
“Oh. So, I’m immortal?”
“That’s not what I’m saying, you idiot!”
Ophelia shook her head. No matter how much she rubbed her eyes, I was still there, the geas etched onto my body.
“This is unbelievable. A geas… for something so trivial…”
“Then what is it supposed to be used for?”
“….”
Ophelia couldn’t answer my question. In this era, there was practically no use for a geas.
The power bestowed by God was tempting, but the risk was too great. That’s why geases were usually used only in life-or-death situations or when facing immense trials.
An ordinary clergyman would likely never have a reason to use one in their entire life.
So, I used it. If the Demon King wasn’t defeated, the world would be destroyed. My life wouldn’t be spared either. And Ophelia’s assistance was essential in that endeavor.
“This is my will. I may be uneducated, but I value my life. The fact that I’m willing to wager it means I believe you can defeat the Demon King.”
“….”
“That’s how loyal a knight I am.”
I even tried to lighten the mood with a joke, but Ophelia didn’t react. Well, not entirely. Her lips trembled, and her face was strangely contorted.
“Did…”
It was a long while before Ophelia finally spoke.
“Did that old geezer put you up to this?”
“What do you mean?”
“Belwin. Did that old man tell you to put on an act and fix me?”
“You know better than anyone that the Archbishop wouldn’t do such a thing. And you also know that I’m not the type to blindly follow orders.”
“…Then why?”
Ophelia asked. Because you’re a game character. I couldn’t say that, of course. I chose my words carefully, trying to give her an explanation she could understand.
“I believe in your potential.”
“Believe in me?”
“Yes. That’s why I endured your… tantrums for a year and a half.”
Ophelia’s cheeks puffed up at the word ‘tantrums’. But it was true.
“You have talent. I can see it.”
That wasn’t a lie. It was the truth. Even without her title as the only healer in the game and bearer of the Mark, Ophelia was remarkable. During the past few days of training, she had shown glimpses of her genius. Frankly, it was frightening. If her swordsmanship aptitude was B+ in the game, and she was this good, how powerful would her divine magic be, with its S-rank aptitude?
“You have talent that surpasses even the hero’s. You’re indispensable to the hero’s party. I can guarantee it.”
“…As if you have any discerning eye.”
“Surprisingly, I’m often told I have a good eye for talent.”
Ophelia remained silent for a while. I waved my hand in front of her face, and she finally seemed to snap out of it, shaking her head and staring at me.
“Are you observing your vow of silence again?”
“…Shut up.”
“It seems your tongue needs more repentance than you do.”
I tried to break the awkward silence with a joke, but Ophelia didn’t react. She usually would have responded with an insult by now. But what came out of her mouth wasn’t a curse.
“…Ophelia.”
“Excuse me?”
“Ophelia. That’s my name. Stop calling me ‘Saintess.’ It’s annoying.”
“Understood, Ophelia… sama.”
“I don’t like the ‘sama’ either.”
“Then how should I address you?”
“…Ophelia.”
“Yes. Understood, Ophelia.”
I addressed her as she requested. Ophelia turned her head away.
I had done everything she asked; I couldn’t understand why she was still upset.
“What’s wrong?”
“Shut up, you trash. Your annoying voice is making my ears hurt.”
Ophelia said curtly, then looked up at the sky. The sun had set, and the sky was beginning to darken. I stood up.
“It’s getting cold. Let’s go inside.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll skip night training today. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, as usual.”
“What?!”
Ophelia’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Why are you surprised? Did you think I wouldn’t make you train? The training is just beginning. I’ve wagered my life on this; now you have to defeat the Demon King.”
“….”
Ophelia, having just witnessed me wager my life with a geas, had nothing to say. I pointed at her, her mouth open in indignation.
“And watch your language. The Holy City will soon release a statement regarding the Demon King’s resurrection. From then on, you’ll be under even greater scrutiny. It won’t do for you to throw tantrums, especially in such a high-profile position.”
“I told you not to call it a tantrum.”
“What you’re doing is a tantrum.”
Ophelia glared at me, then sighed deeply.
“Fuck you, bitch.”
“You know what?”
“What.”
“You’re quite the bitch yourself, Ophelia.”
Ophelia scoffed.
A week later, the Holy City officially announced its intention to confront the resurrected Demon King.
Most nations, organizations, and Mark bearers around the world had already declared their intent to defeat the Demon King.
All that remained was thorough preparation and the hero bearing the Goddess’s Mark.
The Empire, the nation with the largest territory, took the lead in forming the Demon King subjugation force.
They decided to send emissaries to the Holy City, the Ice Palace, the Great Forest, and other nations to establish a united front, known as the Continental Alliance.
“Wow! It’s so tall! I feel like I’m going to fall!”
“Emily, please try to act a little more dignified.”
“But I’ve never seen anything like this, even in the capital!”
“We’re not here for sightseeing.”
“Hmph.”
The Empire’s emissaries dispatched to the Holy City. There were only four or five of them, but since they were carrying a personal letter from the Emperor, they arrived in the Holy City in a lavishly decorated carriage, dressed in fine clothes.
However, their efforts were overshadowed by the sheer magnificence of the Holy City.
The towering buildings, the elegant architecture with its harmonious blend of white and gold, were a stark contrast to the haphazardly constructed Imperial Capital. It was no wonder Emily, the emissary and Mark bearer of the Empire, was so impressed.
“Let’s just finish our business and go.”
“Oh, Evangeline! Let’s look around a bit more! I’m sure the people of the Holy City wouldn’t mind.”
“No. We’ll be in big trouble if we’re late.”
If they were late… who knew what she would do.
Evangeline, a red-haired woman and high-ranking administrator of the Empire, placed her hands on her hips.
“Emily, you’re aware of the Holy City’s Mark bearer, right?”
“Of course! The Mark of the Heavenly God! The Saintess! I heard she’s incredibly beautiful. Do you think we can become friends?”
“No. I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Huh?”
“…No, it’s definitely impossible.”
Evangeline shook her head, a disgusted look on her face. She had visited the Holy City a few years ago, the year the Saintess’s birth was officially announced.
Evangeline, who had come to convey the Emperor’s congratulations, had…
“That Saintess… she’s not a saintess at all.”
“Huh?”
Emily tilted her head. Evangeline’s face stiffened as she explained.
“I met her once, a long time ago. Her name is Ophelia Meredith. She certainly looked the part.”
“Looked the part?”
“That Saintess… she’s touched by a wicked god.”
“Huh…?”
Touched by a wicked god. It was a common idiom used to describe someone who was mentally unstable.
“….”
Evangeline recalled the memory. She had visited the Holy City as an emissary and presented the Emperor’s personal letter to the Saintess in the reception room.
She had assumed that, as God’s representative, the Saintess would be the Pope’s closest confidante. But Ophelia’s reaction had been…
‘Why are you giving this to me? Do you think I’m an errand girl? Are you kidding me? You do it. And get the hell out of my country.’
With those words, she had thrown the Emperor’s personal letter onto the floor.
The insult had been so severe that it could have escalated into a diplomatic incident. Fortunately, the Archbishop of the Holy City and Evangeline had managed to smooth things over.
“Honestly, she’s crazy. Seeing her makes me question… the existence of a benevolent God. Why would God choose someone like that to be the Saintess…?”
“Is… is she really that bad?”
Emily asked, her shoulders slumping. Evangeline slowly nodded.
“Yes. So, Emily, whatever you do, don’t talk to the Saintess. Don’t even make eye contact. Don’t apologize. And don’t get angry. It’s best to just… do nothing. Understood?”
Emily nodded dumbly, her face pale. Evangeline took a deep breath and headed to the designated meeting place. She arrived… and…
“Welcome… to the Holy City. You must be tired from your long journey… Please, have a seat…”
There, Ophelia Meredith, her face flushed, stood with her head bowed, making the sign of the cross over her chest.
She raised her head, revealing a grotesquely distorted smile. It was the kind of smile you’d see on someone being forced to smile at knifepoint.
“….”
“…Evangeline?”
Emily, who had been staring at Ophelia in a daze, spoke.
“Didn’t you say she was a villainess?”
“…Perhaps I’m the one touched by a wicked god.”
Evangeline couldn’t think of anything else to say.
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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.
Thanks for the chapter!