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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Lord Fourth
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BOOM!
The sound was far too loud for a clash of steel. Azar, gripping his hand axe, stared at me in surprise.
“So… you’re the hero.”
“Not originally, but… here we are.”
I tightened the grip on my sword, and the golden aura intensified, pushing Azar back. He was clearly taken aback.
His strength stat in the game was unmatched. Higher than even the Troll King.
Only Elgore, a martial artist known for his brute strength, could rival Azar’s strength among the Demon King’s commanders.
So, Azar shouldn’t be losing a strength contest against a mere paladin. And I wasn’t exactly a power-focused swordsman.
“Surprised?”
Honestly, I was surprised too. I could match Azar’s strength because of the geas enhancing my physical abilities, and…
Hum.
…the Mark. The Hero’s Mark glowed red hot, burning my wrist. This was my first time using it, but it was surprisingly easy.
I simply channeled mana into it, and it responded to my will.
There were two types of Marks in the game.
Passive Marks, like Emily’s and Ophelia’s, enhanced existing skills, amplifying the effects of destructive magic and divine magic, respectively.
The Hero’s Mark was the second type, an active Mark.
In the game its effect was simple. A massive boost to all stats for ten turns.
As with most games, the simplest descriptions were often the most powerful.
Thud.
Empowered by the Mark, I accelerated again, without any preparatory movements. The balance of power shifted. Azar’s hand axe faltered, and his stance crumbled. I seized the opportunity and swung my sword horizontally.
He raised his shield, but it only managed to deflect my attack slightly. A crack appeared on the shield, and Azar’s face paled.
‘This is powerful.’
This was why I had chosen a frontal assault on Azar’s castle. In a short burst, I could probably hold my own against even a commander of the Demon King’s army.
The Hero’s Mark was that powerful.
I struck his shield a few more times, and it shattered, unable to withstand the force.
Azar’s expression turned cold. I leaped forward, swinging my sword at his head, and Azar, instead of blocking, rolled out of the way.
Boom.
The floor where Azar had been standing cracked. The castle was starting to crumble from our fight.
If this continued, Lyla and Ophelia below might get hurt. A quick finish was the best option.
I rested my sword on my shoulder and beckoned Azar.
“Aren’t you going to use your Mark?”
“….”
“You’ll lose if you don’t.”
I looked at the shield-shaped Mark on his arm. It was a taunt, but I was also curious.
How strong was I now? Could I defeat Geldmere and the other commanders of the Demon King’s army?
“How amusing.”
Azar, sensing my intentions, chuckled and raised his hand axe. The Mark on his arm glowed, and the ground beneath his feet caved in.
“I’ll use everything I have. That’s all.”
“Good.”
Azar took a deep breath and charged at me with terrifying speed. I lowered my stance, preparing to meet his attack. Azar’s Mark was also an active skill.
What was its name again? I remembered. Smite. A simple, yet incredibly powerful skill in the game.
BOOM!
A deafening roar echoed through the castle.
—
Richard, the dark mage, loved games. Not just liked, but loved obsessively. He played games until he had squeezed every last drop of content out of them.
Completing the main story was a given, and if there were collectibles, he had to get them all. Sword & Magic Chronicle was the perfect game for him. It was packed with content, various strategies, and hidden easter eggs.
Anime-style SRPGs weren’t popular in his Western culture, but that didn’t matter to him. He was a hardcore fan. And the moment he completed all thirty-nine achievements, he was transported into the game world.
However, unlike what he had expected, he wasn’t a knight or a mage in the game. He was a slave.
“Ugh…”
His recollection was interrupted by a throbbing headache.
He opened his eyes. His vision cleared, and he saw the basement lab.
Threads of miasma, extending from his body, formed a massive barrier, encasing the castle.
“…Ah.”
He finally remembered. He understood.
Richard’s body had been temporarily controlled by Idmien, the chimera mage, using the power of the stigma. The aftereffects of the stigma were intense.
Miasma surged through his body, causing excruciating pain. Richard bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.
“Damn it.”
He was inside the game. It sounded absurd, but Richard was living proof. And the game world wasn’t kind to him. He was a slave, a puppet forced to obey orders.
Idmien had ordered him to kill them. If he succeeded, good. If he failed, he would lose his life.
“Lord Idmien, can you hear me? The current situation…”
There was no response. Idmien was probably busy controlling his chimeras. Or perhaps, the chimeras he was controlling had already been eliminated. Richard clicked his tongue and took a deep breath.
Let’s see.
He had cast a barrier and made enemies of the Saintess and the slave swordsman. It was a disaster. He wanted to run away, but the stigma wouldn’t allow it.
He had no choice. He had to kill them. He had a chance. There were a considerable number of demons and monsters inside the castle. And Azar, the Golden Lion, would try to stop them to protect his wife.
Boom!
A loud noise, not from the basement, but from above. They must be fighting. He needed to assess the situation. Richard channeled his miasma, extending his senses to connect with the monsters.
Hum.
“….”
But… instead of the familiar sensations of the monsters, he felt only emptiness.
“Don’t tell me…”
No response from Idmien, no connection to the monsters… Richard considered the worst-case scenario.
Just then, the door to the lab burst open, and a woman walked in.
“…Ophelia… Meredith.”
“Don’t use that Meredith crap. It’s disgusting.”
Silver hair, green eyes. A face both beautiful and holy. Richard knew her.
The Saintess of the continent. Ophelia was standing before him.
“What did you do to the demons inside the barrier? There were hundreds of them!”
“I killed them.”
The Saintess’s appearance was disheveled. Her hair was a mess, and her clothes were torn. But she had no injuries.
Well, she was the best healer in the game.
“Killed them? You? A Saintess… killing demons? With just divine magic?”
It wasn’t just the demons. Idmien had also sent three chimeras he had personally created. Those chimeras were different from ordinary low-level demons and monsters. A mere healer couldn’t defeat them.
“Well, the lizard helped, but she’s… occupied right now.”
The Saintess muttered, then glared at Richard. Her emerald eyes glowed gold.
“So, are you ready?”
“….”
“You bastard.”
Her tone was different from what he remembered. And he was even more surprised by what she pulled out of her robes.
He had expected a rosary or something. But it was a long sword with a silver blade.
“Grit your teeth.”
“….”
“You should at least die with a smile.”
Richard suddenly remembered that the Saintess’s swordsmanship aptitude was B+.
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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.
