I Became a Childhood Friend With the Villainous Saintess

Chapter 49: The Sinister Sword (2)

Vester, a bear beastman, was originally a mercenary active in the Northern conflict zone.

He didn’t work alone. For some reason, there was a stereotype that beastman mercenaries must be solitary, but despite their appearance, beastmen were just as civilized as humans, not mere animals.

They knew how to live in society like anyone else.

At that time, Vester had joined a mercenary group as a rookie.

This group had long been under contract with the demonic forces, a name infamous enough to send shivers down the spine of many humans.

He had no personal grudge against working with demons. The simple fact was that the demonic faction had more warriors capable of ending the life of a beastman warrior.

In other words, it was much safer to have humans as enemies.

At the time, the war was going exceptionally well.

Humans retreated time and again, drowning in despair, while the demons chased down the stragglers to the ends of the continent, eager to tear them apart.

Even as they approached the long-desired Arcatania Gate, the tide remained in their favor.

Vester remembered the conversations his seniors had by the campfire.

With Meat and alcohol, It was idle chatter as they casually ate and drank.

Some words passed by without much meaning at the time.

“Word is, we’ll reach the gate tomorrow.”

“That’s good news. At this rate, the attack should be easy.”

“Have you been there before? The Arcatania Gate. It’s supposed to be infamous.”

“Quite some time ago. But don’t worry too much. Things are going well now, so it should be fine. We’ve pushed this far, and there’s no sign of the White Rose banner. That means Count Eloran is dragging his feet. Without those guys, the gate is nothing special.”

His seniors were veterans, recognized in the mercenary world.

They had fought alongside the demon forces for a long time and had a pretty good understanding of the human forces as well.

Though he didn’t know all the details, it seemed that reinforcements that were supposed to come from the human rear hadn’t arrived on time.

They said that the ones waiting at the gate wouldn’t be much different from before. Vester still remembered how they mocked, wondering what those who always ran away could possibly do.

“Oh, by the way, I heard there are some strange guys on another front.”

“Strange guys? What, some new supernatural ability users popped up?”

“Something like that. A new cult we’ve never heard of got involved. Forget about their religion; it seems they’re pretty handy in a fight.”

“They’re probably just making that up because they’re embarrassed about losing to humans, right? Anyway, those winged bastards sure know how to be slippery. Best in the continent at that.”

“That’s exactly it. Anyway, we might run into those cultists this time.”

Vester decided to keep his senior’s words in mind, just in case.

His senior might have been strong enough to brush it off, but Vester was still just a rookie. At that stage, even a kitten’s claws could be dangerous. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to be cautious.

Even a beastman mercenary only has one life.

Vester could easily take down ordinary humans, but he knew well enough that not all humans were ordinary.

Looking back, that day’s decision was one of the best he ever made in his life.

.

.

.

The melted walls bubbled and frothed.

The familiar scent of blood and dust filled the air, emanating from the fortress humans had built.

It had been a battle that should have gone smoothly.

The overwhelming firepower of the demons’ magic had brought down the fortress walls, and the battlefield quickly turned into close combat. Up until now, every step had promised a decisive victory.

But now, things were different.

Wounded soldiers, battered and broken, crawled across the ground in a desperate attempt to flee.

Those with functioning legs trampled over their own comrades in their rush to escape, and occasionally, a brave warrior who charged ahead was cut in half, his torso and legs separated.

The ground was littered with so many corpses that it was hard to avoid stepping on them.

The sight of his senior comrades who had gone ahead was nowhere to be seen.

A sense of déjà vu washed over Vester—he recognized the arm that had been rolling across the ground.

- A night lost in confusion. The cries of a soul. A lantern to soothe them.

A calm, haunting voice echoed in his mind.

It was a voice of such beauty that he had never heard before in his life. A voice that, though soothing like a lullaby, brought with it an inexplicable fear, casting a shadow over the battlefield.

To Vester, it seemed as though one side of the world had suddenly fallen into night.

A single lantern flickered in the pitch-black darkness.

Some were drawn to it like moths to a flame, while others saw the girl behind the lantern—the owner of that voice.

She was a sight too delicate for the battlefield.

Silver hair that seemed noble, and eyes of a red so deep they reminded one of blood.

The girl, clad in black holy robes, held a lantern in one hand and a large axe in the other.

“It’s her! We have to kill her!”

One of the demons charged at the girl, determined to take her down.

It was a cold and precise judgment. If the girl died, this night would end, and her axe seemed terribly slow.

With such clumsy movements, it looked like she wouldn’t stand a chance against the demon’s grip.

Yes, that’s how it looked.

With one slow swing of her axe, the demon’s head was severed cleanly.

Vester couldn’t quite follow the sequence of events. It was as if the outcome— the demon’s death—was predetermined, and the world had twisted itself to fit that conclusion.

- At the end of the journey, may you find peace. May a quiet, sweet dream accompany your weary soul.

The girl swung her lantern again, as if nothing had happened.

Thud.

Someone beside him collapsed to the ground.

Blood trickled down from their neck, and Vester saw that it looked as if the man had taken his own life.

His instincts screamed at him: do not look at that light.

But the girl was not the real problem.

A beast lurked in the night. A beast wearing the guise of a man.

A man with black hair. Every time his blade flashed, someone’s blood splattered.

The darkness clung to him, making it impossible to track his movements.

But those blue eyes—Vester knew he would never forget them.

Eyes that resembled a ferocious predator. The ominous aura that seemed to flow from his blade.

How could he ever forget a sight so terrifying it would haunt his dreams?

Later, Vester would learn that this man came to be known as the Cursed Blade.

The Sinister Sword.

“Kuh...!”

“Gah!”

Was it mere coincidence?

When the endless screams finally ceased, a head rolled across the ground.

Thud. Roll, roll.

It was a face Vester knew well.

It was the captain of his mercenary group, a warrior whose name had once resounded in the industry.

Now, he lay dead, his expression frozen in shock.

And then, a blade was pressed against Vester’s neck.

There was no doubt—it was the beast’s sword. Death was upon him, an unavoidable death.

What saved Vester at that moment was the girl with the lantern.

The voice he had resented so much now filled him with gratitude.

“Stop. Let this one go.”

“Why?”

“Fear is contagious. If we kill them all, there’ll be no one left to spread it.”

the beast obeyed the girl’s command

When Vester regained his senses, there were fewer than ten survivors, including himself.

The one thing they all had in common was that they had lost the will to fight and had dropped their weapons.

Using every ounce of strength he had left, Vester fled.

* * *

I looked carefully at the bear beastman who seemed to recognize us, but his face didn’t really ring a bell.

I wasn’t the type to remember every face I encountered on the battlefield.

Whether they were friend or foe, it didn’t matter much to me. Unless it was someone particularly important, I didn’t usually pay attention.

Sirien, on the other hand, had a knack for recognizing people.

This time was no different. She stared at the bear beastman intently, then a smile curved on her lips.

“Oh, I remember now. You’re that beastman from back then, aren’t you? The one we spared at the gate.”

“Y-Yes… that’s right. I’m surprised you remembered.”

“You were the first one to wet yourself in fear. I figured if you were that scared, it was worth sparing you.”

The bear spoke to us with a tone of respect.

It seemed like he genuinely remembered something from that time.

On the battlefield, Sirien would often show mercy to the enemy.

She could have chased down and killed those who fled, but she chose not to.

The main reason was to spread fear. The more our enemies feared us, the faster our reputation would grow.

After all, they say there’s a fine line between infamy and fame.

So, according to Sirien, this bear survived because he wet himself?

It seemed like a rather dishonorable reason to have survived.

“Well, this makes things easier now that we’ve been recognized. Are you still curious about what our lady looks like?”

“No, no. I’ll make sure to explain everything to those above me.”

The bear was quite deferential now. Even the lion, who had previously looked like he wanted to devour us, had calmed down considerably.

“Now that I think about it, I’m curious. The fact that we spared you means you were an enemy back then. How did you end up here?”

“Well, you see, we have our own sources of information, don’t we?”

“I suppose you do.”

“Yes. Our sources have been recommending jobs in this area lately. It turns out to be quite profitable.”

“But weren’t you in the demon territory? How would you hear about this place?”

“Uh, yes, that’s correct…”

It doesn’t make sense… or maybe it does.

Beastmen are a neutral group that can side with either humans or demons.

They follow the money, not the race, so it wouldn’t be surprising if word of mouth spread even to them.

But still, something felt off.

Especially since this Requitas affair involved the nobility.

And when it comes to anything involving the nobility, there’s always something rotten at the core.

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