Taming The Evil Saintess – Chapter 24

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Lord Fourth
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When I first arrived in this game world, I was sold as a slave to the Black Eagle Mercenary Group in the north.

All I knew was my name, Elliot, and that I was a slave.

I didn’t know where I came from, who my parents were, or even how old I was.

I was thrown into the lands beyond the Wall, knowing nothing. We encountered monsters, and thirty percent of the new recruits, died in the first encounter.

It took me another year to realize that this was the world of Sword & Magic Chronicle.

The reason was simple. A commander of the Demon King’s army suddenly appeared and attacked us.

I recognized his face. Geldmere, the One-Eyed Knight, a boss from the game. Half of the mercenary group died in that attack.

That’s when I realized. I wasn’t the protagonist. I could never hope to match Geldmere’s swordsmanship.

I didn’t have a status window, or a Mark. I etched that fact deep within my heart: I was not the hero of this world.

Fortunately, Elliot, the body I possessed, had a natural talent for combat. He had an affinity for mana, allowing him to use even cheap mana techniques to generate sword aura. His regenerative abilities were also exceptional.

Thanks to this blessed body, I survived while countless other recruits perished.

I improved rapidly, surviving countless near-death experiences over the next three years. And in the fourth year, Geldmere appeared again. I fought him. And I lost, miserably.

‘Impressive, human. Your skills are exceptional.’

I hadn’t lost completely. I managed to break his helmet. But my sword broke, and I barely escaped with my life.

The other veterans died in that battle, leaving me as the captain of the mercenary group.

I retired without hesitation.

If I couldn’t even defeat a commander of the Demon King’s army, how could I hope to defeat the Demon King himself?

The hero. The Saintess. The other Mark bearers. They were the future. I had accepted my fate. I would leave the rest to the hero. The protagonist of the game could do anything.

“That bastard.”

That belief had been shattered by this asshole before me.

Clang!

I swung my sword, breaking the chain. I pushed off the ground with my mana-enhanced strength, narrowly avoiding the black thorns that erupted where I had been standing.

“Kreee!”

A monster charged at me. I didn’t even bother drawing my sword. I punched it in the jaw with my mana-infused fist, and at the same time, Uthmund’s arrow pierced its forehead.

Shing!

I deflected a volley of black thorns, and a chain shot out from a blind spot. I couldn’t block it, so I rolled.

Knights would scoff at such an undignified move, but as a former slave mercenary, I didn’t care. Survival was all that mattered.

“Damn it! Stop! Stay back!”

The dark mage gathered all the miasma in the lair and attacked me. Chains shot out from all directions, interspersed with black thorns. I couldn’t dodge them all, so I twisted my body and swung my sword wildly.

Thud. A thorn pierced my side. It was excruciating, but bearable. It hadn’t hit any vital organs. I gritted my teeth and leaped forward, closing the distance between us.

“How?! How can you still stand after taking that?!”
“I’ve been through worse.”

The dark mage’s black thorns caused necrosis and excruciating pain, but I could endure it. I could heal the necrotic flesh with divine magic later.

I scoffed and pulled the thorn out of my side. Dark blood stained my clothes. I should have worn my armor. I regretted it now.

“Damn it!”

The dark mage’s face contorted in anger. He gathered all his miasma and threw a black chain.

Clang!
Clatter!

The chain wrapped around my sword. A smirk appeared on the dark mage’s face. He thought he had disarmed me. But it was he who had been disarmed.

This was exactly what I wanted. His chain was wrapped around my sword, and the chain was connected to his hand. It was a perfect fishing rod.

“You idiot. What kind of mage tries to overpower a knight in a strength contest?”

I yanked on the sword, and the dark mage was lifted off his feet. I punched him in the stomach as he flew towards me.

“Ugh!”

The dark mage coughed up blood. His control over the miasma weakened. I shook off the chain and plunged my sword into his shoulder.

“Aaargh!”

He screamed in pain. I didn’t want to hear it, so I punched him in the face. His teeth shattered, and his face, wet with tears and snot, was in my grasp.

“G-gasp… I surrender! Stop! Stop hitting me!”
“That was anticlimactic.”

I spat on his face. He was weaker than the dark mages I had encountered in the north. And he had been using that much miasma? The Demon King’s army was truly lacking in talent.

“So, why did you attack Loren?”
“Mmm! Mmm!”
“I know your mouth is covered. Just a warning.”

I stepped on his hand, crushing the bones. Crack! The dark mage’s eyes rolled back in his head as he screamed in pain.

“Tell me the truth. One sentence. Understood?”
“Mmm.”
“Alright. I’ll ask again. Why did you attack Loren?”

I removed my hand from his mouth. The dark mage coughed up another mouthful of blood, then quickly said,

“Because the hero was in Loren!”
“….”

My face hardened. The hero’s Mark. The most powerful Mark, bestowed by the Goddess. The only way to defeat the Demon King.

The Mark appeared on a boy in a remote village, unbeknownst to anyone. That was the game’s prologue. There was no way the Demon King’s army could have known about it.

“How did you know the hero was in Loren?”
“….”
“No answer? Do you want your other hand crushed as well?”
“…I…”

He hesitated, so I raised my foot. It was effective. The dark mage squeezed his eyes shut and yelled,

“I saw it in the game!”
“…What?”

I couldn’t understand what he had just said. A game. Another word for a video game. A word commonly used on Earth. I hadn’t expected to hear it in this world.

I clutched my throbbing head and looked back. Uthmund, despite being an idiot, was quick-witted. He had quietly slipped out of the lair when he saw my expression.

“Say that again. What? A game?”
“The game… from Earth.”
“….”

I had initially considered two possibilities for the attack on Loren. One was that the changes in the game characters’ personalities had caused a butterfly effect, leading to the disaster. The other was…

“Are you… a transmigrator?”
“…Yes.”

The dark mage nodded, looking at me. He continued,

“I believe you’re a transmigrator as well.”
“….”
“To come all the way here after hearing about Loren… you must be a transmigrator… Aaargh!”

I stomped on his other hand without hesitation.

“I told you not to speak without my permission.”

My nerves were frayed. My mind was in chaos.

I had suspected that I wasn’t the only transmigrator, but to have multiple transmigrators, and for one of them to have killed the hero… I didn’t want to deal with this.

“Did you transmigrate after playing the game?”
“Yes.”
“Are there… other transmigrators?”
“Of course… dozens of them… in the Demon King’s castle.”
“…Why the Demon King’s castle? You played the game, didn’t you? You know the Demon King is evil.”

The dark mage’s expression was strange.

“I don’t understand you.”
“What?”
“How… how can you act so freely?!”

The dark mage yelled, his voice filled with frustration.

“The Demon King summoned all the transmigrators!”
“….”

That was news to me. I didn’t know why, or how, I had been transported to this world. I rubbed my forehead and gestured with my chin, urging him to explain.

“I… I transmigrated as a slave in the Demon King’s castle. They use captured slaves as vessels to summon transmigrators from Earth. To win the war…”
“….”
“And I…”

The dark mage’s words were cut short. His eyes widened, and his body began to convulse.

“Hey, hey! What’s…”

I noticed a magic circle on his chest. It looked similar to the Mark on Ophelia’s shoulder. But it was subtly different.

If a Mark was bestowed by a benevolent god, then what an evil god bestowed was…

“A stigma?”

A stigma consumed its host, unleashing immense destructive power. And in that process, the host’s will was irrelevant. Giving transmigrators stigmas meant they could be used as puppets.

“Damn it.”

I tried to back away, but the stigma glowed brightly before I could move. A blinding light. Then, a deafening roar. The stigma detonated, using the dark mage’s body as a catalyst. I was engulfed in the explosion.

I opened my eyes. I couldn’t move. I struggled to recall what had happened.

“Ah.”

I had been caught in the dark mage’s self-destruction. There was no way I could have survived that.

But I was alive. I thought I had lost my limbs, but I could feel them, albeit with excruciating pain.

“Ugh.”

It felt like my skin was being peeled off. I wanted to thrash around, but I couldn’t. I didn’t have the strength to even move a finger.

“….”

I took deep breaths, trying to control my breathing. After a few minutes, the pain subsided. I could finally move.

“…Where am I?”

I slowly regained my bearings. I was lying in a bed, in a wooden room. A small, flower-shaped lamp illuminated the room. An elven city, then.

Someone had moved me. Uthmund? He was more loyal than I had thought. I turned my head with great effort.

“….”
“You bastard… sniffle”

Ophelia was staring at me, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Y-you idiot… I left you alone for a while, and you come back looking like… a rag… damn it…”

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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.