Chapter 106: The Saint’s Man (1)

—: I mean, a level 60 Swordmen at least trudges stylishly now.

—: Level 10 skill: Trudge ‘n Flail.

Level 20 skill: Fast Trudge ‘n Fast Flail.

Level 30 skill: Mega Trudge ‘n Mega Flail.

Level 40 skill: Insane Trudge ‘n Insane Flail.

Level 50 skill: Goddamn Trudge ‘n Goddamn Flail.

—[OP]: F*** me.

—: Take comfort in the fact that you’re making progress.

—: Real talk; Goddamn Trudge ‘n Goddamn Flail is like “Goddamn².”
Can’t even imagine how goddamn it’s gonna get.

—: Basically turning into Jon Jones lmao.

—: I dipped at level 30. Felt too off when I was still trudging and flailing like an idiot.
Meanwhile, mages are over there slinging fire and water and whatever the hell, kiting mobs like they’re playing a different game.

—: Yeah, I guess you need to be that cracked just to get into the Mage Tower.

—: Honestly you don’t even have the IQ to be flailing and trudging like that lol.

—[OP]: Everyone said first playthrough should be as a Swordmen though!

—: That way you quickly realize how garbage the game is and escape ASAP.

—[OP]: Y’all set me up fr.

—: To be fair… Swordmen is way easier to play, no cap.

—: Mages gotta optimize stats every few levels, farm grimoires, do all kinds of wild shit just to get by. Swordmens? Just level up and go “Huh?” as your Trudge ‘n Flail gets stronger. Instant power spike.

—: That’s facts. You never really get stuck.

—[OP]: I was stuck AF tho?

—: That’s just cause the game’s a flaming pile of trash lol.

—[OP]: Oh.

—[OP]: So what was that whole “Swordmen becomes a different character at level 60” thing then?  I hit 60 and just upgraded to a more intense Trudge ‘n Flail!

—: Isn’t that when you unlock BLACK STRONG?

—: LOL “B. S.” is right.

—: Nah for real, at level 60 you unlock “Sword Force.” That shit hits like a truck.

—: All the smug mages who clowned on Swordmens suddenly go “O-oh Lord Swordmaster~” and bow when they see you pull out Sword Force.

—[OP]: Wait what?

—[OP]: Isn’t Swordmaster from level 70 though?

—: Technically, you can unlock Sword Force at 60… But it’s hard as hell, so most don’t actually learn it till 70.

—[OP]: Man what the fuck! Then they should’ve said it was from level 70!
I sprinted to 60 just for that damn skill!

—: Bro, anyone dumb enough to grind a Swordmen to 60 isn’t escaping anyway lol.
Let ‘em cling to hope.

—: The classic Black Lie.

—: Don’t you mean White Lie?

—: Nah, it’s Swordmen.

—: LOL. Comedy gold.

—[OP]: FUCK.

Risir had a dream.

In the dream, mischievous little Verdandechu was testing her lung capacity on a small sand dune.

“MASTAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH~!”

Then again, maybe it wasn’t a dream.

Because when Risir woke up, he was greeted by Verdandes sitting on his chest, singing his name like a tune.

When she saw his eyes open, she beamed and leaned in close.

“Mastah! You’re not dead!”

“Was that your funeral song just now?”

“You weren’t waking up no matter how much I sang, so I kept trying!”

“Wow, thank you sooooo much. You definitely woke me up.”

“Mastah! Are you okay!?”

“Of course—”

He was about to answer when his body screamed in pain, and he winced hard.

“Mastah! You’re hurt!”

“Yeah… seems that way.”

“Don’t be hurt!!! Being hurt is bad!!!”

She spoke with her brows furrowed sharply.

Wait, is she scolding me instead of worrying?

Feeling oddly solemn, Risir nodded.

“I won’t get hurt. I won’t struggle either.”

“You better not!!!”

“Yup… Noted…”

And so, after being thoroughly lectured, Risir began to retrace his memory.

Did I black out again? What am I, a damn ocean sunfish? I overload once and, wait. No. This time wasn’t an overload. That’s right!

Risir’s eyes shot open as he remembered the last thing that happened before he lost consciousness.

I struck Gaderok…

Thump!

His heart pounded at the recollection. A wave of elation washed over him.

Almost entranced, he began to rise from bed and reach for his sword.

“Stop.”

But Clana’s voice stopped him.

Risir was startled and turned toward the source.

It had come from outside his head.

And there, standing with arms crossed and a dignified look, was the Murderous Fiend herself.

“…What the heck. You’re adorable.”

That was Risir’s first impression of seeing Clana in the flesh.

Gone was the valiant figure from his inner world.

In her manifested form, she looked like a young girl, much like Verdandes.

“You look super young in person.”

“You’re yapping nonsense like it’s your job, despite that busted body. Gutsy brat.”

“So what’s with the new look?”

“I learned how to manifest like an elemental.”

“You can learn that?”

Risir looked flustered by how casually Clana admitted to something absurd.

Clana, in turn, looked flustered at him.

“You’re really one to talk.”

“Huh?”

In her tiny frame, Clana radiated her usual chaotic energy as she sauntered over and plopped down on the bed.

Then, with a sideways glance, she asked,

“You… Do you know what power you used?”

Risir instinctively sensed it—

She wasn’t talking about Breath Taker.

She meant that decisive force that transformed illusion into lethal impact.

Risir recalled the sword he had swung.

The one that cleaved through a 7th-tier mage’s mana barrier.

The force at its tip.

It was unlike any magic or swordplay he had seen.

He shook his head confidently.

“Of course not.”

“…Ah.”

Clana sighed.

But only briefly. She soon nodded.

“Well, you’re you, so I guess that makes sense.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? That’s one hell of a leap in logic.”

“Shut it. I don’t want to hear that from you.”

“Yeesh… Anyway, what was that power?”

“It’s called Sword Force.”

“Sword Force?”

“It’s the manifestation of the will to cut.”

“Can you explain it in simpler terms? I don’t really know swords.”

“…You just used Sword Force and you’re saying that?”

Clana sighed deeply before continuing.

“Simply put, you’ve gained the power to wield your will as a weapon.”

“Oh, like basic magic then. There’s a foundational concept like that, formalization.”

Clana closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

She felt like if she didn’t, her mana would reflux in frustration.

“To put it even more simply, this power can only be properly controlled once you reach the 8th tier.”

“How the hell did I pull that off then?”

“Because you’re Risir.”

“Come on, this is supposed to be a serious sword talk. Don’t joke around.”

“For the love of—! Just shut up.”

Clana jumped off the bed like she was fleeing and pointed at the Blue Lotus leaning against the nightstand.

“Anyway, remember this: Sword Force is way beyond your current ability. That’s why your body’s a wreck now. If you try using it again right now, you’ll damage yourself beyond repair.”

“Got it. Thanks for the warning.”

“I just couldn’t stand how dumb you were being.”

“Even you get flustered, huh?”

“You really say whatever comes to mind, huh?”

Clana let out another sigh as she looked at the Blue Lotus.

“How did it come to this…”

Then, reluctantly, she turned to Risir and said.

“…I acknowledge you.”

“Huh?”

“The Breath Taker you used. That was definitely my sword technique.”

She picked up the Blue Lotus and handed it to him.

“I permit you to call me Master.”

“…!”

Risir’s eyes widened in joy at her recognition.

“Thank you, Clana!”

Clana scoffed.

Can’t believe I ended up playing the master role…

Though clearly annoyed, she still seemed a little giddy.

“You dare say your master’s name so lightly?”

“Oh—well, Clana. For reference, I already have a master. I still think of that person as my one and only.”

“…?”

Clana blinked.

Then what does that make me?

Her question was practically audible.

Risir paused, then exclaimed as if struck by brilliance,

“How about… a respected peer in the way of the sword?”

“…”

Clana drew the Blue Lotus and slashed her own neck.

Of course, being an elemental, she wasn’t harmed in the slightest.

After slicing her own neck, Clana returned to Risir’s inner world.

Clana, are you okay?

—Don’t talk to me!

The Murderous Fiend…

…was sulking.

I wonder what happened after I collapsed. Did everything with Councilor Lan get resolved properly?

Finishing his conversation with Clana, Risir immediately got up from bed.

He intended to head to Lan’s office and talk with her.

“…Huh?”

But then, a strange sense of dissonance hit him, something he hadn’t noticed while chatting with the two elementals(?).

‘Wait… this isn’t my room, is it?’

Risir looked around.

It was as spacious and luxurious as the guest room Lan had prepared, or maybe even more so, but it was clearly not the same room.

“Mastah! You’re awake! GRAAAHHH!!! I’m overwhelmed with joy!!! The very limits of relief!!!”

A voice called out to the confused Risir.

A fist-sized, ashen-white flame floated in the air.

“Dan’Galeon?”

“That’s me! Your faithful servant, the Blazing Pure White Flame, Dan’Galeon, reporting for duty!”

Was his name always that long?

Also, what’s with this elemental form too?

Is my inner world some kind of elemental sanctuary now?

Risir brushed aside those trivial thoughts and asked.

“Where’ve you been?”

“I was scouting activity around the mansion!”

“Mansion? Do you know where this is?”

“Of course!!! Lay all your worries to rest! I, the Blazing Pure White Flame, Dan’Galeon, shall clear up all of Mastah’s questions! Everything that happened while you were asleep!”

…

…

…

Three days.

That was how long Risir had been unconscious.

“During that time, those wretched insects who call themselves the Saint and the Master dared to trespass into your quarters!”

“Oh. Actually, those two are my companions. Very dear ones, at that.”

“I thought they seemed exceptionally distinguished and remarkable for vermins—err, I mean, individuals! They assisted in your recovery, Mastah!”

“I’ll have to thank them properly later. So where are they now?”

Fienne.

While Risir was unconscious, she had worked with Lan to settle the aftermath in his place.

“Soon, good news will come from the city council!”

“You know that too?”

“Yes! While you slept, I roamed the mansion collecting information!”

“Ah, come to think of it—where is this place?”

“This is the mansion of the Guildmaster of the Golden Barley Guild!”

“Golden Barley?”

Risir’s eyes widened at the name of the largest merchant guild in Bondalles.

“After you collapsed, the Saint volunteered to oversee your treatment! So you were relocated to the Golden Barley Guildmaster’s estate, where she is staying!”

“Ah, so that’s what happened.”

“Her medical skills are quite extraordinary! Without her, it would’ve taken you much longer to wake up!”

Dan’Galeon praising a human…?

Risir was quietly impressed and intrigued.

How long has it been since I saw her?

As he longed to see his comrade again, a warm smile spread across Risir’s lips.

“Is she still in the mansion?”

“Yes! She’s receiving visitors in the garden!”

“Visitors?”

“As expected of Mastah’s companion! Her reputation is immense! Her followers keep arriving day and night! The mansion is practically flooded with guests!”

“Ho…”

Seeing Risir’s curiosity grow, Dan’Galeon shouted,

“Let’s go see her now! I shall guide you!”

Risir followed Dan’Galeon out of the room.

Arriving at the garden, Risir looked around and let out a quiet gasp.

This might be grander than the Gadum estate.

As expected of a guildmaster’s residence.

The garden before him was even more splendid than the one owned by the corrupt councilor he’d seen before.

With its constant flow of guests, it was practically a public square.

There wasn’t even a banquet going on, yet many people were mingling and networking.

She’s here?

—She definitely was, just a moment ago!

Risir strolled through the garden, searching for her.

He scanned the faces of the visitors gathered in small groups.

Can’t see her…

No matter how hard he looked, there was no sign of her.

“Hey, you.”

A group approached Risir and addressed him.

Their gazes were… peculiar.

His disheveled appearance—having just woken up and walking around a glamorous estate—clearly clashed with the atmosphere.

“What business do you have here?” asked a young noblewoman with thick lipstick, her tone accusatory.

Risir, thinking this was a good opportunity, answered,

“Oh, I’m looking for someone. A person called the ‘Saint.’”

The moment that name left Risir’s lips, the group’s expression changed.

Though unfamiliar with noble society, Risir was experienced enough to understand that look.

They were evaluating him.

Eventually, faint smiles curled at their lips.

“This your first time here?” the noblewoman asked.

“Yes, it is.”

“I see. That explains it. Then I suppose it’s understandable.”

“Sorry?”

“The Saint. That person isn’t someone you can just barge in and demand to meet.”

She gestured toward a few individuals nearby with a tilt of her chin.

“See them? Each one of them holds great influence in Bondalles’ social circles. And even they haven’t managed to get a meeting with him. They’ve been waiting here endlessly.”

She smiled, then added,

“I’m in the same boat, of course. So if you do figure out how to meet him, I’d be very grateful if you let me know.”

Her entourage chuckled softly with disdain.

—These wretched worms!!! Mastah! Reveal your name at once! They’ll grovel before your glorious name! Or better yet, give me the order! I’ll incinerate their eyeballs immediately!

Calm down. This is just a noble’s favorite folk game.

It was the kind of veiled mockery nobles specialized in.

Risir, all too used to this, was about to brush it off when—

“…Huh?”

Their gazes turned toward something.

Risir followed them instinctively.

A commotion had started on one side of the garden.

“No way…!”

The nobles exchanged glances and rushed toward it.

Risir followed them.

When they arrived, a crowd had formed around something, no—someone.

Risir pushed through to peer inside.

Huh? That’s…

The first face he recognized was Rok, the bodyguard he had seen during the back-alley meeting.

He shifted his angle a bit.

Beside Rok stood a curly-haired young lady.

And next to her—

Tanned, glowing skin.

Shiny golden hair like ripe barley.

A gender-defying beauty, effortlessly drawing affectionate handshakes from countless women.

The envy of all men.

Yet on ‘his’ face was unmistakable boredom.

Still, the women didn’t mind.

If anything, ‘his’ aloof demeanor only made them more enthusiastic.

Still the same, Golden Sun.

Risir, for a different reason, was also moved.

“Hey!”

He waved his hand reflexively and called out.

“…!”

At the sound of his voice, the bored expression on the beauty’s face changed instantly.

‘His’ sky-blue eyes scanned the crowd.

“…Ah!”

Then their eyes met.

“Saint…?”

The noblewomen surrounding ‘him’ looked stunned.

After all, the one they knew as the mystical and captivating “Saint”, was showing the face of a woman.