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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Lord Fourth
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“How dare you?!”
Pope Eudor Meredith roared, his hand striking Benedict’s face. Being slapped was a rare experience for an assassin of Benedict’s caliber.
But he couldn’t retaliate.
Not against the Pope. Eudor continued his tirade, spittle flying from his lips.
“You lost to a single heretic, resorted to curses, projectiles, and even poison, and lost three of my men?! And you dared to use paralytic poison on the Saintess?! What if there were lasting side effects?!”
“…I apologize.”
“Not only that, you also let that heretic Elliot escape!”
“…But the Sword Saint…”
“Silence!”
Slap!
The Pope’s hand, held edge-on, trembled.
He had lost all semblance of the dignified leader of the Holy City.
“If you’re going to attack someone in another nation’s territory, you should at least cover your tracks! You call yourselves assassins, and you couldn’t even kill a single heretic? You even dragged the Sword Saint into this mess! Do you think you’re worthy of the name ‘Shadows of God’?”
“I have no excuse. It was my incompetence. The deaths of my men, and… harming the Saintess…”
Benedict felt a surge of resentment. According to the reports, Elliot was only a level two threat.
Three Shadows of God should have been enough to handle him. But Elliot was far stronger than they had anticipated. Three of his seven men were dead, and three were seriously injured.
Benedict was the only one left unscathed. But he couldn’t argue with the Pope. He could only lower his head and accept the blame, even if it didn’t lessen the punishment.
Splash.
A hot cup of tea struck Benedict’s forehead.
The Pope, having vented his anger, turned away.
“Useless fool.”
“….”
Benedict suppressed a curse and wiped the tea from his face. At least he had succeeded in retrieving the Saintess. If he had failed, he might have been executed.
The Pope walked to the center of the room and slumped into a chair.
“Benedict.”
“Yes, Your Holiness.”
“The meeting is about to begin.”
The Pope had summoned several cardinals. He had called Benedict, the leader of the secretive Shadows of God, to this meeting to publicly reprimand him.
Benedict seethed, but he endured.
“While the meeting is in progress, the leaders won’t be paying attention to… outside matters. Use this opportunity to… clean up this mess. Even if it costs you your life.”
“…Yes, Your Holiness.”
“And if that heretic is still alive, kill him. He’s the only witness. Leave no trace.”
“I understand.”
It was an impossible order. Benedict couldn’t defeat Elliot alone.
Assassination? Impossible.
Elliot had seen through his stealth, even in the darkness.
A suicide attack? That wouldn’t work either. Elliot’s body was too resilient.
There was only one option. Taking the Saintess hostage.
“I will accomplish this mission, by any means necessary.”
“Good.”
The Pope didn’t humiliate him further. Benedict returned to his position. But the silence didn’t last long.
Bang!
The door burst open, and a high-ranking priest rushed in, his glasses askew.
“Y-Your Holiness!”
“Compose yourself.”
“I apologize! But… it’s an emergency…”
“What is it?”
The priest spoke in a trembling voice,
“Sir Rowan, a Cathedral Knight, and Inquisitor Ured… are fighting… downstairs.”
“Fighting? What kind of fighting?”
“…A sword fight.”
The Pope and the cardinals frowned. A sword fight between a Cathedral Knight and an Inquisitor? In the Imperial Capital, during the Continental Alliance meeting? Unbelievable.
The priest continued,
“And… the Saintess has escaped.”
“What?!”
The Pope roared. Ophelia had been brought here against her will. She wasn’t cooperating. They had planned to take her back to the Holy City after the meeting and lock her in the punishment room for at least six months.
They believed that would break her spirit. And now, she had escaped. Here, in the Grand Conference Hall, where the leaders of the continent were gathered.
The Saintess was an asset not just to the Holy City, but to the entire continent. They were already in a difficult position with the Sword Saint.
If the Saintess’s escape and the actions of the Shadows of God were to be revealed, it would be a disaster. It could even lead to war.
“Benedict.”
The task of retrieving the Saintess naturally fell to Benedict.
“Yes, Your Holiness.”
“Capture her. No matter what. Use poison if you have to. You can even break a few limbs. We can heal them later. But don’t let anyone see you. Understood?”
“Yes, Your Holiness.”
Just as Benedict was about to bow, another priest rushed in.
“Y-Your Holiness! I have a report!”
“What is it now?!”
The Pope yelled, exasperated, and the priest stammered,
“The Sword Saint, the attack dog, the future Archmage, the master archer… and the heretic Elliot… they’re here… in the annex…”
“….”
Silence. The Pope tilted his head. Benedict did the same.
“…What?”
It was… unbelievable.
—
Our hastily assembled party… I suppose we could call ourselves the Avengers.
“Bring out the Pope.”
Our lineup was impressive.
Alberich von Reudenstein, the most famous swordsman on the continent.
Emily Vallière, the Archmage’s apprentice.
Owen, the attack dog of the Intelligence.
Erwin, the master archer and chieftain of Binheim.
And me.
“Uh… um…”
The Holy Knights guarding the entrance were understandably confused when this… squad appeared and demanded to see the Pope.
Were they here for the meeting? Or were they attacking? They probably figured it out after I sent one of them spinning through the air with a punch.
“Isn’t it a bit much to resort to violence right away?”
“We’ll have to fight them eventually.”
Alberich said, his voice laced with disapproval, but I ignored him. I had lost all respect for the Holy City.
I kicked the door open, and the priests and knights inside stared at me as if I were a ghost. I must have looked terrifying.
I drew my sword.
“Get out of my sight if you don’t want to lose your heads.”
Their response was:
“I-intruders!”
“It’s Elliot, the heretic! Seize him!”
This was why I hated clergymen. They charged at us, even though they knew they couldn’t win. Like moths to a flame.
Alberich sighed and drew his sword. Owen and Erwin hung back, observing. I swung my sword, holding back as much as possible.
“Gah!”
Even a blunt attack with the holy sword would hurt more than a mace.
I wasn’t killing them only because it would be troublesome to clean up the mess.
I couldn’t just slaughter every knight in the Holy City for Ophelia, and I also felt a slight hesitation, having once been one of them. Emily, however, was different.
“Give back the Saintess, you bastards!”
Bang! Bang! The sound of exploding air. Emily was enthusiastically firing magic at the priests.
It seemed to be a type of magic that created concussive force in the air, like an invisible punch. Thanks to Emily’s… air punches, we reached the second floor without any resistance.
I opened the door leading to the central corridor of the annex. And there…
“Ured…? Are you alive?”
Ured was hanging from the wall, his limbs twisted at unnatural angles. He was covered in blood, but still alive.
He turned his head towards me when I called his name. His eyes, despite his battered body, were bright.
“Ah, you’ve arrived. I’ve been waiting.”
“You don’t look like you’ve been waiting.”
“Well, not really. There was a slight… commotion. Cathedral Knights are strong.”
Ured’s gaze shifted, and I followed it. Rowan was lying unconscious on the floor. Had they been fighting?
“It was a draw. Or perhaps… my victory, since I’m still conscious. Hehe.”
“…That doesn’t sound like much of a victory.”
“It is. I bought time for the Saintess to escape.”
“Where’s Ophelia?”
“She went down the hallway, towards the main building.”
We had missed each other. I clicked my tongue and was about to leave when I noticed Ured’s condition.
“Are you… okay?”
“I think so.”
Even Ured didn’t sound confident. He added, almost inaudibly,
“Probably.”
“You’re not dying, are you?”
“No. I’m quite resilient, you see. Well, I’m not feeling great, but… divine magic should fix me right up. Haha.”
He raised his grotesquely twisted thumb, as if he couldn’t even feel the pain, and Emily took a step back, horrified.
Owen, standing behind her, rubbed his forehead.
“Are all Inquisitors like this?”
“Probably not.”
Even I wasn’t sure.
—
Ophelia ran down the hallway. The main building wasn’t that far from the annex. The problem was that Ophelia’s stride wasn’t very long.
“Huff… huff… so far…”
She had been running for several minutes and was only halfway there. The hallway seemed endless, and she was barefoot.
Small stones embedded themselves in her soles, drawing blood. She didn’t bother healing them. She would only injure herself again.
Once she reached the main building and found someone to help her, a knight, the Archmage, anyone… she could heal her feet then. She paused to catch her breath and was about to start running again when…
“Stop.”
A chilling voice. Ophelia knew that voice.
“Damn it. Why are you all so obsessed with me?”
She turned around. Benedict, the leader of the Shadows of God, stood there.
“It’s His Holiness’s order.”
“Really? Then this is the Saintess’s order. Bite your tongue and die.”
“I can’t do that.”
Benedict slowly approached Ophelia. He wasn’t wary. She was unarmed.
“Cooperate. We need you.”
“What for?”
“To kill that heretic, Elliot.”
“….”
Ophelia’s expression changed. It wasn’t just displeasure now; it was rage.
“That son of a bitch… I’ll kill him myself.”
“…Hmm.”
Even Benedict seemed surprised by her sudden shift in demeanor.
He frowned.
Ophelia raised her hand, and divine power gathered in her palm.
“It’s useless. Your barrier can’t withstand my sword aura…”
Benedict stopped mid-sentence. Ophelia wasn’t casting a barrier. It was a sword. A sword made of golden divine power.
A condensed form of energy, similar to sword aura, materialized in her hand.
“Let’s die together.”
“Huh.”
Ophelia lowered one shoulder, holding the sword at an angle.
Benedict recognized that stance.
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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.
