Chapter 3: The Saintess’s Resolve
The Fall of Boris
“Boris—!!”
The bandit fell with a single swing of my mace.
That heavy, chilling sensation…
As the inheritor of Eastern swordsmanship, Haedong Geomdo (six months, signed up because they offered a gaming console), I’m no pushover.
These guys might swing their swords wildly, but have they ever faced proper swordsmanship?
To me, bandits like these are less than a handful.
The Power of the 7th Iron
And then there’s my beloved mace, the 7th Iron.
It looks like a simple mace, but it’s an extraordinary item blessed by a combination of three bishops.
Bishops serving the God of War, the God of Justice, and… the God of Jealousy.
Why the last one?
Even though I said it wasn’t necessary, they insisted I’d need it later and forced the blessing on me.
The God of Jealousy, that mass-produced drone of regret, obsession, and misery—his bishop’s words stuck in my throat like a thorn.
…Wouldn’t it be better to be the one dishing out the misery rather than receiving it?
No, I shouldn’t even let it come to that.
Still, thanks to those blessings, it’s got accuracy buffs and bleeding effects. Stat-wise, it’s a solid piece, so there’s no reason not to use it.
If I weren’t such a numbers-obsessed efficiency freak, I might’ve tossed this creepy weapon.
But what can I do?
A saintess uses what the gods provide.
The Bandits’ Realization
With the closest bandit down without any gain, the others were visibly tense.
They finally, finally, realized I’m no ordinary woman.
Their foolish chatter stopped.
They glared at me like they wanted to kill me.
Wondering what they were scheming, I threw out a line with a fresh smile for good measure.
“The gates to the gods’ embrace are always open.”
‘Come at me, you bastards.’
“You btch—!”
“I’ll make every hole in your body mine!”
“You fcking wench! You’ll be mine even in death!”
Sometimes, speaking calmly with a smile pisses people off more than outright cursing.
There’s always that one guy, right?
Someone who says things with good intentions, and you understand them, but for some reason, the more you listen, the angrier you get.
A good example? That blonde orphan kid whose hobby was stealing cards in a slap match game.
Every time he took my card, he’d say, “Thank you!” Why was that little sht so infuriating?
But now that I’m the one dishing out the taunts, it feels so satisfying.
Watching the bandits’ faces turn red and blue with rage was like a balm for my soul.
The Love of Discipline
My taunt worked perfectly, and in an instant, the bandits closed in on the wagon.
They still hadn’t learned their lesson.
Even after seeing what happened to the guy on the left.
It’s all because of this lousy teacher’s failure to educate them properly, sob sob.
With tears in my eyes, I swung my loving discipline at these hopeless students.
“Argh?!”
“May you find peace.”
‘Die.’
Only after two more skulls were cracked did the bandits finally calm down.
They let out incomprehensible, barbaric roars and pulled spears from their horses’ sides.
A Dire Situation
Things were getting seriously bad.
In any fight, reach—distance—is critical, no matter how you emphasize it.
And in a chase like this, with the pursuers pulling out spears?
I’d be stuck getting picked off from behind, unable to do anything.
…That sounded a bit weird now that I said it.
Anyway, my room to maneuver was drastically limited.
‘Should I call on the gods one more time?’
The Cost of Prayer
Summoning a god through prayer is akin to a form of divine possession.
Compared to traditional rituals, it’s a simplified ceremony that takes a heavy toll on the body.
High risk, random reward—a crap skill.
I’ve never used it twice in a day, but activating it might leave me so drained I’d collapse.
Since I’m essentially the only fighter on this wagon, that would mean defeat.
All I could do was resist as much as possible.
“Die!”
“Take my spear!”
For bandits, their voices were annoyingly loud.
I deflected a spear aimed at me with my mace, but another one struck my side from the flank.
A Painful Hit
“Hyah?!”
“Hahaha! That cry’s just my type!”
“If you’re like this already, my lower half can’t hold back!”
“Khahaha!”
Those bastards.
Luckily, I didn’t take a direct hit from the spear’s blade.
Thanks to the bandit’s sloppy swing, I was struck by the shaft and fell onto the goods piled on the wagon.
But with my stance broken, resisting was now difficult.
Two of them thrust their spears near where I’d fallen.
The one who seemed to be the leader approached the coachman, shouting.
“You! Stop the wagon now, or I’ll slit this girl’s throat and yours!”
“Don’t talk nonsense!”
“Stop right now, and I’ll spare your life!”
“Don’t lie! You’ll kill me anyway!”
The coachman’s intelligence was surprisingly decent, which was a relief.
The problem was that the bandit leader’s was even higher.
A Tempting Offer
“Why not join us instead?”
“What kind of crazy talk is that?!”
“Why not? Join us, and you’ll live and get a share of the loot! How much does a wagon driver even earn?”
Wait, why isn’t he responding?
I couldn’t see the coachman from where I’d fallen, but you don’t always need to see to know.
The bandit leader’s words had some logic to them.
A Harsh World
This novel’s setting is a time when the war between the empire and the kingdom has entered a temporary truce.
The borders are always chaotic, and requisitioning for the war has left many starving to death.
On top of that, the war’s aftermath means too many people and not enough wealth.
To ordinary people, this world must feel like hell.
That’s why so many cling to religion.
What could the coachman possibly earn?
The real money goes to the nameless merchant who hired him.
This world is practically begging for a revolution.
It’s an environment where bandits naturally thrive.
The Coachman’s Betrayal
“Coachman, the gods always watch over us. Don’t let your wisdom be swayed by sinful words.”
‘Betray me, and you’re dead, for real!’
But the coachman didn’t respond.
And the bandit leader’s next words sealed the deal.
“That’s right! Become a bandit, and you can have a go at this girl too! Haven’t you imagined it at least once?”
That bastard, using me as a bargaining chip?
And the coachman, that damn fool, was clearly hesitating.
Fck.
FCK!!
This was a life-or-death crisis.
A crisis of losing my virginity before I’ve even had my first kiss.
Screech—
Neighhh.
The sound of the horse whinnying.
The wagon stopped.
What was that about Bishop Dominic?
Acting all nice, but in the end, he’s just like the rest.
The bandit leader laughed heartily, clearly delighted.
“Haha, good thinking. Should I call you comrade now?”
“…I’ll take second.”
The other two bandits erupted in fury at the coachman’s words.
“You bastard! You think you’re the deputy?!”
“We spared your sorry life, and now you think you’re the boss?!”
“Enough.”
The bandit leader’s words silenced their angry shouts like mutes.
He rode closer to the wagon.
The bastard looked at me, still sprawled, and licked his lips.
A Twisted Brotherhood
“Fighting among comrades on a day like this? We’ve got a new comrade, so let’s be generous.”
“…Yes! You’re right, boss!”
“And nothing’s uglier than bickering with a feast right in front of us.”
“Kahaha! You’re right again, boss!”
The bandit leader dismounted and slowly approached me.
“I heard somewhere that sworn brothers seal their bond by drinking from the same cup.”
“Is that so? But we’ve never done that, have we?”
“True. But today! We are reborn!”
The bandit leader’s eyes gleamed with self-intoxication as he shouted.
“We’re no longer just comrades! Brothers, that’s what we are. We’re now inseparable brothers!”
“Brothers… you say?”
“Yes! We may not share blood, but we’re bound by a loyalty stronger than that—sworn brothers!”
Why the hell is this bandit leader so good with words?
If he’d been a priest, he’d have built three temples with his offerings.
“We’re brothers with the boss…?”
“Don’t call me boss anymore—call me brother!”
“B-But…”
“Come on! Say it, brother!”
“Big brother!”
“My brother!”
What a circus.
The guys who were just talking about ravishing me were now shedding tears and hugging each other.
…Their guard seems a bit lax. Should I try slipping my leg out from between the spears?
“And this woman!”
Ugh, damn it.
My timing’s the worst.
I stopped moving my twitching leg.
A Vile Oath
“Though we can’t share blood, we’ll share this nun’s virgin blood! With the pure blood of a maiden, we’ll swear our resolve!”
“Long live big brother!”
“Long live our brotherhood!”
“Now, as the eldest, I’ll take the honor of breaking this virgin myself.”
All eyes turned to me in an instant.
Am I really going to lose my virginity like this?
I’m a guy, though? Is this even right?
[The God of Affection remarks that a situation with a hint of depravity has its own charm.]
That crazy lunatic.
Probably because she only wrote buckets of miserable romance novels, her head’s completely twisted.
Your saintess is about to get ravaged!
“Hehe… I’ve always wanted to have a go at a nun.”
“And such a young one too. Following big brother was the best choice.”
A Desperate Prayer
I’m screwed.
I’ve got to spin the gacha with a prayer and get out of this somehow.
I closed my eyes and clasped my hands.
“I beseech you.”
“Hehe. Is this some marriage ritual?”
“Big brother’s gentle with women, so you’re lucky, wench!”
“From your radiant throne, descend to the lowliest place, and have mercy on your servant…”
‘Help!’
“Hehe. Call all you want. Think the gods will listen to you?”
The bandit leader lifted the hem of my nun’s skirt, touching my leg.
This is the worst.
“I’ve never seen such pale skin in my life. Is this the gods’ grace too?”
“Seems like it, boss!”
“…Forgive the sins of this sinful band that has strayed from your embrace.”
‘Fck, help!!’
The God of War
A red halo glowed.
[The God of War answers your call.]
Thankfully, this time it came quick.
[The God of War grants you the Power of Certain Victory.]
Certain victory? Does that mean I’ll definitely win?
If taken literally, that’s a jackpot, but how in this situation?
Luckily, the answer came quickly.
Whoosh—
Thud!!
“Arghhh!!”
The bandit leader in front of me collapsed, a massive blade protruding from his stomach.
Beyond the fallen figure, I saw a man standing a short distance away.
The Hero Arrives
Short black hair. Cold eyes.
At last, the protagonist of this novel had appeared.