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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Lord Fourth
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Slash!
Clang!
I cut them down, one after another. I didn’t know how many times I had swung my sword. I just kept swinging until the assassins before me were gasping for breath.
“He’s a monster…”
One of them muttered. I agreed. The combination of the holy sword and the Hero’s Mark was devastating.
I didn’t need to hold back. The Hero’s Mark pushed my physical limits far beyond their normal boundaries, and the holy sword, crafted by Olman, was probably the best sword on the continent.
But no matter how strong I was, they were a group. Highly trained assassins. They didn’t falter, even as their comrades fell.
“Ugh.”
Poisoned daggers and projectiles flew towards me from all directions. Feints and misdirections. I had to focus to avoid being hit. I was grazed a few times, and unlike the neurotoxin, the poison that entered my bloodstream was slowing me down.
I was still standing only because the Hero’s Mark was keeping my body from collapsing.
Thud.
A dagger struck my shoulder. It was unavoidable, so I took the hit, protecting my heart. I would make him pay.
“Gah!”
I punched the assassin who threw the dagger in the chest. He tried to protect himself with mana, but it was no match for my brute force.
Squish.
I had created the world’s largest donut. A satisfying jolt ran through my arm.
“….”
No, it wasn’t satisfying. My vision was blurring. I had lost a lot of blood, and the poison was spreading through my body.
I could barely stand.
I stumbled, black blood dripping from my wounds. The Shadows of God, using poison… the Goddess(?) would weep.
“…That’s enough.”
The leader of the assassins stepped forward. He was holding Ophelia. They had captured her while I was distracted.
“Let go of me, you bastard!”
“I apologize, but please bear with us for a moment. I am Benedict. While I respect your wishes, Saintess, His Holiness’s will takes precedence in this situation. I’ll explain everything later…”
“Fuck off! Let go of me! I’ll remember your face! I’ll kill you!”
“…Sigh.”
Ophelia struggled and cursed, but Benedict’s grip was firm. I took a deep breath and raised my sword.
“You despicable fanatics.”
“That’s a mischaracterization, Sir Elliot. We are the Shadows of God. Even if the stream is muddy, someone has to reach into it. We are a necessary evil.”
“Tell that to God.”
“Sins can be cleansed with confession. But your blasphemy… is unforgivable.”
Typical fanatic rhetoric. The Holy City was full of lunatics. Benedict took a step forward.
Ophelia’s limbs went limp. The paralytic poison had taken effect.
“Surrender, and I won’t harm the Saintess.”
“As if you could harm the Saintess.”
“….”
“Try it. I’d like to see you incur divine punishment.”
“Sir Elliot, you seem to misunderstand the situation.”
Benedict snapped his fingers, and the poison in the air intensified. I dropped to one knee, black blood dripping from my mouth.
“This poison can kill even demons. It’s already spread through your body. You’ll die if you don’t surrender. Resistance will only hasten your death.”
“So, you’ll give me the antidote if I surrender?”
“I was planning to. Or rather, I was.”
Benedict’s eyes turned cold.
“Sir Elliot, you have to die here.”
“What?”
I frowned.
“I was originally going to bring you both back to the Holy City, but I’ve changed my mind. You’re too dangerous.”
“….”
“You’re a threat to the Holy City. We have to nip this in the bud.”
Well, I had killed three of the seven Shadows of God. An impressive feat for a mere Holy Knight.
“S-stop!”
Ophelia cried out, her face contorted.
“I-I’ll do whatever you want! Just don’t kill Elliot! Please! I beg you!”
“…Hmm.”
Benedict looked at Ophelia and me, then sighed.
“I apologize, Saintess, but that’s not a fair negotiation.”
“…Please! Don’t kill him! I’m ordering you! As the Saintess of the Holy City! This is God’s revelation!”
“I’m sorry.”
“Ah…”
Ophelia’s face turned pale. Benedict slowly drew his sword and approached me.
Could I fight back? The effects of the Hero’s Mark were wearing off, and the poison was slowing me down. My body felt heavy.
“…S-stop…”
Ophelia was crying, practically begging.
“Ophelia.”
I called her name, and tears streamed down her face. She was a crybaby, despite her strength. I stuck my tongue out slightly.
“Don’t be dramatic. It doesn’t suit you.”
“….”
“It’s fine. Everything will be alright.”
I had a plan, even if I couldn’t fight. My enhanced senses were still active.
Benedict hadn’t noticed, but I had seen them, a pair of eyes watching us from the edge of the forest.
“Any last words?”
“No.”
“I see. Farewell.”
Benedict raised his sword. And then…
Slash.
It wasn’t the sound of my head being severed. A flash of blue light. A chunk of Benedict’s hair fell to the ground.
“….”
Benedict’s eyes widened in surprise. I smirked.
“Did you really think you could get away with this?”
“…Don’t tell me…”
“That’s right. Time’s up, you bastards.”
Benedict lowered his sword and took a few steps back. He had made up his mind.
“We’re retreating. Take the Saintess.”
“R-retreating?”
One of his men asked, surprised, but Benedict, his face grim, lifted Ophelia onto his shoulder.
“Sword Qi.”
“Sword… Qi?”
“Aura Blade!”
The assassins’ faces paled. They were all trained swordsmen. They understood.
Few on the continent could condense and fire their Sword Qi like that. And only one person used blue Sword Qi.
The sound of dozens of footsteps approached. The Shadows of God, carrying Ophelia, retreated. I collapsed, my face hitting the ground.
The poison had finally overwhelmed me. And the effects of the Hero’s Mark had worn off.
“…Fuck.”
I muttered.
“Hurry up…”
I closed my eyes. The backlash from the Mark hit me, but I couldn’t feel the pain, thanks to the paralytic poison.
—
I opened my eyes.
“An unfamiliar ceiling.”
I hadn’t expected to actually say those words. My body ached, but I was alive. I slowly sat up, my vision blurry. A man was watching me. He looked to be about my age.
“You shouldn’t move. There might still be poison in your system.”
“Where’s Ophelia?”
I asked the most important question. They had taken Ophelia. The Empire would be searching for them. But the man shook his head.
“We couldn’t rescue her.”
“….”
“Or rather, we weren’t allowed to. You were trespassing on Imperial territory. And it was… appropriate for the Holy City to retrieve their kidnapped Saintess. Even if their methods were… unorthodox.”
“…Bullshit.”
“Bullshit?”
“Bastards.”
I stood up. My muscles screamed in protest, but the pain was bearable. It was much better than the last time. It seemed my body was getting used to the Mark. Perhaps the backlash would disappear with repeated use. But that wasn’t important right now.
Ophelia. The Shadows of God had kidnapped her. I had to find her. They couldn’t have gone far.
“Are you going after her?”
The man asked as I stumbled towards the door.
“Yes. Because you didn’t help.”
“Do you even know where she is?”
“I’ll find her. Mind your own business.”
“A hint, then. She’s in the building next door.”
“What?”
The man opened the curtains. A familiar sight.
“This is…”
“Whitecrown. Impressive, isn’t it?”
It was the Imperial Capital. The building outside was the Grand Conference Hall. I had been here during my travels after leaving the mercenary group.
“Fortunately, today is the first official meeting of the Continental Alliance.”
“….”
My vision cleared as I stepped into the sunlight. I finally saw the man’s face clearly and my eyes widened. Dark hair with a blue tint, deep blue eyes, a sturdy build, and a large, sword-shaped Mark on his cheek.
I knew him.
The most famous swordsman on the continent. And a face I had seen countless times in the game.
“The Sword Saint.”
“Glad you recognize me.”
Alberich von Reudenstein, the Sword Saint. He was standing before me.
“Elliot, let’s have a little chat.”
Alberich smiled.
“Though… ‘Hero’ might be a more appropriate title now, wouldn’t you 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.
