Chapter 21 : The Saint is worried (7)

I eliminated them all and reported it to the Pope.

He was truly shocked.

His usual benevolent smile vanished, replaced by a look of disbelief.

‘What?!’

His reaction was infuriating. But it also made me realize something.

There wasn’t just one faction. The current Pope was trying to win me over to his side.

Perhaps because…

My acting was too good.

Or perhaps “Saint #2,” the noble lady (a joke) who terrorized the other priests, lacked charisma.

Besides that, there was a stark contrast between me, who only ate grass to deceive them (though it was actually expensive herbs), and #2, who gorged herself on meat and grew plump.

The Pope’s exasperated sighs whenever he saw #2 were quite entertaining.

By the time I was fourteen, I had enough experience to embezzle from the temple funds, manipulating the records to make it look like my herbal medicine costs were actually #2’s food expenses. It was child’s play.

Even now, I think my acting was top-notch back then.

‘…Saint-nim, are you sure this is all you need?’

A priest, concerned about my diet of herbal soup and salad, offered me something that looked like pudding, but I shook my head and offered her one of my herbs instead.

‘It’s quite palatable once you get used to it. Sister, would you like to try some?’

‘Ugh… you gave me some last time. It’s too bitter.’

She reluctantly took it, muttering, “Saint-nim gave it to me…” The way her face scrunched up the moment she took a bite… it was both cute and amusing.

‘Good medicine tastes bitter, Sister.’

I would cover my mouth and giggle, and they would all blush.

It was somewhat enjoyable back then.

But…

‘You’re so mature for a fourteen-year-old, Saint-nim.’

Those words brought me back to reality.

By fourteen, everyone was calling me “Saint.”

‘Saint’ ‘candidate,’ that is.

If anyone’s reading this…

They might be wondering, “Why this long, irrelevant flashback in the middle of a battle?”

To them, I would say…

It just came to mind.

I wonder if you can guess by now…

Why I became the Assassin Saint.

I learned combat skills directly from the night visitors (assassins) who snuck into my bedroom, through “sparring” (life-or-death battles).

Later, I even took some of them under my wing.

I hope no one pities me.

I’m happy now.

I got my revenge and returned to this world. How could I be unhappy?

But if you find me annoying, rambling on like this…

Just chalk it up to my period making me emotional.

But revenge…

Yes…

I was able to get my revenge without revealing my true identity.

Once my revenge was complete, no one targeted me anymore.

The kingdom probably thought I was a harmless Saint.

“Saint, join the Hero’s party and fulfill your mission.”

That’s what the pudding-faced King said.

I almost scoffed at the word “mission.”

“As you wish.”

Subjugating the Demon King.

There was no reason to refuse.

That’s what I had been living for.

“Ah, you’re the Saint. Nice to meet you. I’m Abel, the Hero. Let’s work together for humanity.”

Bright blond hair, a refreshing smile, ingrained aristocratic mannerisms, the condescending tone, even the words “for humanity”…

I disliked him from the moment we met.

Instead of taking his outstretched hand, I curtsied politely.

But despite my repeated rejections, he kept trying to get close to me.

He clearly liked me.

Subjugating the Demon King wasn’t something that could be done overnight.

I decided to hide my emotions, as I always did.

But first, a word.

“For humanity? You’re truly a remarkable Hero.”
“I-Is that so? Hahaha. You flatter me.”

Despite my sarcasm, he blushed and scratched his cheek.

Like oil and water.

We would never mix.

But his power was genuine, and I decided to use him as a tool for my return.

So, I joined the Hero’s party and stayed in the kingdom for a while.

What did the Hero’s party do while staying in the kingdom?

Celebrations and leisure?

Not at all.

We learned self-defense techniques and sparred with the royal knights.

We trained from dawn till dusk.

Even for me, it was exhausting.

One day, I was lying in bed, exhausted, when…

The prince entered my bedroom without a word.

Even for a prince, that was crossing the line.

But I didn’t want to cause trouble, so I sat up and asked,

“What is it?”

His reply was outrageous.

‘Attend to me.’ Or something like that.

Even an idiot wouldn’t say that to the Saint who was about to embark on a journey to defeat the Demon King.

Ignoring his obvious intentions, I looked around.

Was there an eavesdropping spell?

Perhaps this was a charade, a disguise to hide some secret conversation.

But he really meant it literally.

He tried to force himself on me, and when I refused, he told me to stop playing hard to get, so I smashed his head with a vase in a fit of rage.

The sight of the broken vase and his bleeding head wasn’t pleasant. I didn’t want to be framed for murdering the prince, so I used healing magic to patch him up, but I did too good of a job. The next night, more “visitors” came.

In short, I hated that world.

There were countless reasons.

The fact that they locked me, the Saint of Oracles, in a monastery for their petty greed.

And then, too cowardly to kill me directly, they left me to starve, hoping to avoid divine punishment. Because of their stupidity, I suffered.

Would the outcome have been different if I had been a beloved Saint?

I wouldn’t know.

The philosopher’s stone had asked me if I wanted to become the Demon King.

Perhaps it had seen through my resentment.

‘I’ve smelled too much blood.’

I knew there was something wrong with me.

But in the game, I didn’t have to hold back.

‘Ah.’

A violent blade, sharp enough to pierce my skin.

‘So this is his ultimate skill.’

The greatsword, glowing gold, was raised vertically.

Final Slash!

As the greatsword descended, I flicked it upwards with my dagger.

Clang!

A clear parry sound. The Warrior faltered, but the force of the skill remained, and the greatsword descended again.

Clang!

My dagger clashed with the greatsword again. I didn’t try to match his strength; I redirected it. My body spun, following the momentum, and…

“Ugh!”

My dagger sliced through his side. A spray of blood, and his strength wavered. The match was decided.

Slice!

My other dagger cleanly severed his neck.

An overwhelming difference in skill.

Thud!

Even without its owner, the greatsword cleaved the ground before losing its power.

“Phew…”

A feeling I hadn’t experienced in Demon King.

The feeling of killing people who were trying to kill me, running away from me.

Even in a game, it was exhilarating.

This was the pleasure of consequence-free violence.

‘Should I start with the closest one?’

“Gasp… gasp…”

A woman, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Her long ears twitched nervously as she looked around.

Her name was Yena.

An ordinary office worker.

“Hmm hmm hmm~”

She heard a humming sound and moved in the opposite direction.

A simple, wordless tune. Why would the enemy reveal their position like this?

She wondered. But in her current situation, she was grateful for even this.

The beautiful voice, echoing eerily, made it even more terrifying.

‘Why is the map set at night…?’

Perhaps because she had turned up her sensory settings for better accuracy…

Her neck still felt cold.

The first time, she hadn’t even realized what happened.

One moment she was alive, the next, the screen turned red, and she was back at the respawn point.

But the second time…

‘Hello?’

She had turned at the voice, and then her head was gone. Seeing her own body lying on the ground was a strange experience.

Wasn’t dismemberment a high-level skill?

But just now… of course, auto-aim showed a trajectory line, but she had been in a blind spot.

Even with the trajectory line, she should have been safe.

‘And I don’t even have my ultimate skill anymore…’

She had dodged even before the trajectory line appeared…

-“~”

She had no time to think.

“Hmm hmm hmm~”

The humming grew closer.

‘What should I do?’

She had logged in to relieve stress after work.

When she saw the Baker Street map, she had thought it would be advantageous for her, an Archer…

‘…Should I just quit?’

No, quitting now would result in a bigger point penalty.

Even just one kill would be nice…

“Huh?”

The humming stopped.

It was instinctive.

Yena turned around and gasped.

A priestess robe, stained crimson with the blood of countless victims. Blood splattered on her pale skin, her red eyes glowing in the darkness. A primal fear gripped Yena, her hands trembling like a prey animal facing a predator.

“You’re good at hiding.”

A surprisingly calm voice.

Her tension eased slightly.

Aside from the creepy humming and indiscriminate slaughter, her opponent was incredibly beautiful.

But Yena knew…

Even in horror movies, the smiling killers were more terrifying than the raging ones.

And this wasn’t a horror game.

‘Why Priest?’

Logically, an Archer should have the advantage against a Priest in a 1v1.

But logic didn’t seem to apply here.

“Heh. Just one kill left.”

Her opponent looked up and muttered absentmindedly. It seemed one of her teammates had fallen.

Yena checked her kill log and chuckled wryly.

0 kills, 3 deaths. A pathetic score, even for someone playing defensively. And all three deaths were at the hands of her current opponent.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”
“I-Is it?”

She didn’t know the other woman’s intentions, but she seemed to want to talk.

In Last Ragnarok, you couldn’t see the kill logs of other players except your own.

But there was one exception.

A notification appeared when only one kill remained for victory.

Which meant…

(39 vs ?)

That was probably the current score.

She desperately hoped someone would die.

“Yes. The game I played before was so gloomy. But this place is even prettier than reality.”

Her opponent, as if toying with her, started spinning, turning her back to Yena.

But Yena didn’t move. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she reached down, her hand moving past her hip to her thigh. The sweat on her skin told her how nervous she was. A smile touched her lips as her fingers brushed against a familiar object. The pouch containing her secondary weapon, a dagger.

‘If I get lucky and score a kill, the point penalty will be significantly reduced.’

She gripped the hilt and waited for an opportunity.

‘Now!’

Even Archers had close-range skills.

A basic Slash, assisted by the system.

It was a familiar move, so she could execute it even faster without the assist.

“…Huh?”

A dumbfounded sound escaped her lips. Her opponent effortlessly caught her wrist, disarming her without even using a weapon.

Clang.

Her dagger rolled on the ground, and her opponent released her wrist.

‘How?’

She had been spinning like a child, then suddenly… it had been a perfect ambush.

Or so she thought.

“Not bad.”

It was meant as a compliment, but seeing the look in her opponent’s eyes, Yena felt like a cornered prey.

“W-Wait, I’m leaving. I’m going to log out.”
“Aw, it’s almost over.”

Her opponent continued to approach, despite Yena’s attempts to retreat.

She considered jumping from the rooftop, but before she could, her opponent grabbed her hand.

“Ah…?”

She wondered what she was doing, their fingers intertwined…

Then, her opponent embraced her with her other arm.

“Don’t be scared.”

Her voice was so gentle, almost saintly, that Yena wondered if she could trust her.

Then…

“Shh… it’s okay. It’s over now.”

With a smile, she plunged a dagger into Yena’s neck.

Blood and foam filled Yena’s mouth, preventing her from speaking.

But if she could have, she would have said,

‘You crazy b*tch.’