Chapter 13

“You’re here? You rotten lolicon trash.”

“Traaash…”

The knight scowled at the sight of me wide awake, with Shia dozing half-asleep against my back.

“…Hey. Otto.”

“Y-yes, Sir Knight!”

At the knight’s growl, the innkeeper shrank back in fear.

“Didn’t you say they’d be asleep?”

“Th-they were! I—I swear I saw them eat. That stuff works even if you just touch it to your tongue…”

The knight’s hand—broad as a pot lid—smashed across the innkeeper’s cheek.

Smack!!

“Gah!!”

Teeth flew as the innkeeper collapsed sideways, only to be kicked once more by the knight before he turned his head toward me, breathing hard.

“Haa… Priest brother.”

I gave a dry laugh.

“Brother? Don’t make me laugh, you half-baked bastard.”

The look in my eyes—pure contempt, like staring at an insect—made his expression twist even further.

“…Fine. No need to pretend, then. I’ll be taking your niece.”

“And do what with her?”

“She’s beautiful. Do I need to explain further? To hide that beauty would be a crime.”

“……”

“Humans aren’t a long-lived race. Twenty years of beauty at most. Best to let her bloom early, for her own sake.”

“…Do you even know how old she is?”

“Thirteen? Fourteen? Fifteen? Sure, that’s a bit young for marriage, but what does it matter when she’s already this ripe?”

“Oh yeah? And what exactly do you plan to do after you take her?”

He gave a sly grin.

“Adopt her, of course.”

“Bullshit. That would just be adoption in name only.”

“Don’t be so harsh. She’d enjoy luxuries you couldn’t even imagine. I’d raise her with utmost care, letting her beauty blossom under my… personal guidance.”

“…You insane fuck.”

At my curse, Shia muttered sleepily from my back.

“No need to waste your breath. In backwaters like this, nobles and gentry often adopt children just to turn them into concubines. Besides, isn’t this the barony where even the lord still enforces the right of the first night?”

As if he’d heard her whisper, the knight puffed his chest proudly.

“I’ll admit, I hesitated. Her beauty is one thing, but presenting her to the lord could bring immense reward. But then Wilson here told me something.”

-Do you have to choose? Why not both?

-Are you stupid? If I take the girl, the priest will turn hostile.

-Since when do you care about that? Just torture him into obedience. He’s an excommunicated priest, no backers. He doesn’t need fingers or toes to chant miracles.

-Ha! Employee of the month.

The knight chuckled, patting Wilson’s chubby cheeks.

“Hah… it opened my eyes. Of course—I can have both. Take the girl, and break you into a dog over a few days. What was I even worried about?”

One of his men chimed in.

“Sir… what if, after you’ve had your fun, we present her to the lord once she’s twenty? She’ll be even more beautiful then. His lordship would be most pleased.”

“Shit… genius. You’re employee of the month too.”

I laughed bitterly at their self-congratulating.

“Pathetic clowns. Enough. I’ve heard more than enough garbage.”

The arrogance I’d been suppressing stirred awake. Perhaps it was my true nature.

Because really—were these things even human?

Shing.

My nameless blade slid free.

.
.
.

“Ugh…”

The knight must have seen something in my eyes. He flinched back, then, as if to cover his retreat, raised his sword at me.

“Such an unpleasant glare. I don’t know why a priest carries a blade instead of a staff, but… we’ll see if you can still glare like that after I’ve cut you apart.”

His weapon glowed red, casting light across the dark room.

The light of mana.

“…Steel Body user.”

Shia’s voice, clearer now that she was fully awake, explained from behind me.

“Judging by the aura, he’s about high-tier Mana User. Not bad for a mere gate guard in a frontier barony.”

“…Hmph.”

For reference, Steel Body users were classified in four stages:

-Novice – Can sense mana and circulate it through their body for reinforcement.
-Mana User – Can extend mana beyond the body into their weapons and equipment.
-Aura User – Can condense mana into aura, shaping it into lethal force.
-Blaster – Can project aura externally, unleashing blasts like spells.
-Master – Beyond forms, manipulating mana freely to manifest supernatural feats (flames, lightning, etc.).

• (Above even that, there were Grand Masters, but they were practically legends.)

So what did “high-tier Mana User” mean?

“That you’re still trash.”

Whatever word my Northern Continent Translator picked for “trash,” the knight’s face flushed scarlet.

“You bastard!!”

With a roar, he swung his sword down at me.

Whoosh!!

I raised my blade and met his strike head-on.

Clang!!!

Crash!

The clash sent a shockwave exploding outward. Windows shattered, and the three-story inn shook violently.

“…A priest parrying my blade?”

Feeling only a slight strain in my limbs, I smirked.

“So this is the vaunted Mana User level? Pathetic.”

Grind, grind—

As our blades locked, the knight’s face twisted.

“You’re no ordinary priest…!”

“And you’re still just trash.”

Just as the knight’s face reddened further, ready to spew another curse, my blade slid up along his sword and slammed its flat side into his neck.

Crack!!

“Gah!!”

He staggered back, boots thudding against the floorboards, cold sweat running down his face. He knew it too—if I’d twisted my blade a little differently, his head would be rolling on the floor by now.

“Y-you bastard…!”

“You broke your breathing just to spit out an insult in the middle of a bind. Pathetic. That’s the kind of mistake a novice makes.”

“……!!!”

Unable to take my mockery, he charged again. To his credit, his form was tighter than before. At least he remembered he was supposed to be a knight.

Clang! Clang! Grind!!

Instead of ending it immediately, I chose to parry each blow, carefully analyzing not just him but the whole level of a so-called Mana User.

No sense in wasting a good sample before I’d extracted all the data.

Kaang! Screech!!

As I shifted into pure defense, the confidence he’d lost after my earlier strike began to return.

“Haa! Ha-ha! Yes! That’s better! That’s how it should be! A priest like you has no business—!”

Clang-clang!!

“If I don’t get careless, you can’t possibly beat me!!”

Clang! Grind!!

“Kneel now, beg for mercy, and I’ll only take an arm!!”

His shouts filtered into my ears as little more than barking.

Hmph… just as I thought. Nothing impressive. I’ve seen enough.

Screeeech!!

I deliberately dragged my sword along his mana-infused blade, sparks showering as metal scraped metal.

“What…!?”

He gawked at his sword, now jagged like a saw blade.

“They say a real sword can’t withstand mana-charged strikes. I was worried, but it seems mine holds up just fine.”

Conclusion: The angel was right. If this is a high-level Mana User, I won’t be pushed around anywhere.

I remembered how she’d described my level not long ago.

“Compared to Steel Body ranks… you’d be about Master tier.”

“Is that good?”

“…For someone who can’t even use mana? That’s like saying a worm grew into a dragon. It shouldn’t be possible.”

I tilted my head.

“Wait. Didn’t you say you were Grand Master tier when we fought? And you still got thrashed.”

Her brow furrowed at the memory.

“…That was because you ambushed me at point-blank range!”

“Excuses.”

“I swear! If I’d had even a little more distance, you’d be the one in pieces!”

Frustrated, she went on comparing my current state to the Grand Master level.

“If both sides couldn’t use mana, a Grand Master wouldn’t even come close to you. They’re still mortal, after all. But you—back then you’d already transcended, risen to Potestates. That skill doesn’t just vanish.”

“But with mana, it’s different.”

“Yes. The sheer output of attack and defense changes everything. If you’re a knife, then they’re a tank. No matter how good you are with a knife, how do you beat a tank?”

“I can. Easy.”

“That’s not the point! Do you not understand metaphors!?”

By then, I understood her real point.

“So basically, up to Master-level I can overwhelm them with pure technique. But from Grand Master up, I can’t, unless it’s a surprise?”

“Yes.”

“Hm…”

“But if you catch them off guard and press before they can react—then you’ve got a shot.”

“Oh~ like what happened to you?”

Her veins popped.

“Yes, yes! I got caught like that! Happy now!?”

I waved it off, chuckling.

“Don’t get mad. I was joking.”

“Ugh… one day I’ll smash that smug face of yours.”

She steadied herself, then raised two fingers.

“Two meters.”

“Two meters?”

“That’s the minimum distance you’d need to suppress a Grand Master. Any farther and not even you could manage it.”

Recalling her words, I let his attacks come, parrying lazily. By now, his face had gone pale.

Even an idiot could tell—the fight he thought was a struggle was, in truth, just my playtime.

Shia yawned behind me.

“My dear, are you not done toying with him? This grows boring.”

“Just a moment. One last test.”

I drew on divine power, weaving two minor blessings.

“Bless. Striking.”

As holy power coated blade and body, I traded a few more blows.

Clang! Clang! Clack!

“…Huh. Barely noticeable.”

“That’s why they’re low-grade miracles. Add one to a hundred, it still barely changes. They’re meant for weaklings, not for monsters like you.”

“Fair.”

Our casual chat made the knight explode.

“You… you dare mock me!?”

“Relax. I was going to end it anyway.”

“Wh-what!?”

“You bore me. Time to die.”

For the first time, my blade’s pattern changed from pure defense.

Redirect.

Screech!

Push.

Thunk!

Sever.

Clang!!

In just three exchanges, his longsword snapped in two.

He stared dumbly at the broken hilt in his hand.

“Wha… what? How…?”

“Come on, Sir Knight. You barge into a sleeping man’s room with a sword—surely you knew you might not leave alive?”

“W-wait, wait—!”

Stumbling back in terror, he shouted to his men.

“Wilson! Jo! Radan! Liam! Oliver! Stop gawking and help me!”

“……”

“……”

“Wilson! Can’t you hear me!? If I die, you die too! Attack!!”

Crack. Snap. Crunch. Rip.

Instead of answering, strange sounds came from behind.

“…W-Wilson? Jo?”

At last, he turned—and froze.

A massive white tiger stood there, glowing with a gear-shaped halo in its chest, chewing on a blood-drenched sword.

The knight stammered.

“Wh-what…?”

Shia slid off the bed and stepped forward.

“Filthy, wretched, ugly human. Behold my pet beast—‘Hosik.’”¹

“A… a monster? Then my men…”

“Obviously. Hosik already devoured them.”

The tiger licked its bloody jaws with relish. The knight snarled in horror.

“You cursed witch…!”

“Witch? Insolent. I am no mere witch. I am a Demon King.”

“Shut up!!”

He hurled his broken hilt at me and lunged toward Shia, no doubt hoping to grab her as a hostage.

“Holy Smite.”

Boom!!

“Argh!!”

A hammer of light slammed into his skull, dropping him with a crash. He groaned and forced himself upright—but found a tiger’s open maw waiting before him.

Shia snapped her small fingers.

“Eat.”

“Spare—!”

Crunch! Crunch!! Crack!!!