Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 94

The Eighth Saintess Elahan, like all Saintesses before her, was found in an orphanage with no known bloodline. She was raised from infancy within the headquarters of the Holy Church without a single thing lacking.

Due to the overflowing divine power they possessed right from birth, Saintesses always shared the trait of silver hair and golden eyes, regardless of genetic background. Within the Church, everyone knew what such an appearance signified. However, to common folk, a child who looked different from others was something to fear.

This was the reason why Saintesses were rarely raised by their birth parents and were usually taken in near orphanages or slums under the protection of the Church.

Unlike cardinals, whose position was determined by effort and merit, only one Saintess was ever born at a time. Called “the Staff of the Goddess,” the responsibility and power that came with that title were immense.

The Saintess also held jurisdiction over the Holy Iron Inquisitors, the military symbol of the Holy Church. If misused, such authority could lead to catastrophe. Perhaps for that reason, the Goddess placed divine constraints on the fate of her Staff.

“My Staff shall not be born of those who exalt themselves as noble.”

First, a Saintess is never born into noble or royal bloodlines.

“My Staff shall not dwell in the shadows of the wicked.”

Second, a Saintess is never raised by the hands of evil.

“My Staff shall not bend toward corruption.”

Third, a Saintess must not favor any particular faction or act on personal emotions.

Only one exception existed, and that was the Hero, who stood even above the Saintess. As the true representative of the Goddess, the Hero could not be classified as just “a faction.”

Saintess Elahan’s current rampage maintained a delicate balance with those principles. Aside from punishing evildoers, she was wholly devoted to the Hero—retracing his path and correcting her own shortcomings with utmost sincerity. Not even divine constraints could suppress her pure will.

With a loud wham! Another bandit, struck by the Holy Iron Breaker, was buried in the earth with only his head sticking out. Though his body was “unharmed” thanks to a ridiculous healing spell, the shock of nearly dying lingered deeply.

It would take at least a week before he could move properly again. Elahan looked down at the pitiful sight with disappointment and slung the maul back over her shoulder after planting her fifty-fourth “human cabbage” of the day.

“Gathered together as capable men, and instead of tilling a field, you pillaged from the equally hungry? You ought to be ashamed!” she scolded the unconscious bandit.

They weren’t involved in slave trading or drug operations, but even common bandits couldn’t be let off. Letting small evils fester only lead to greater ones. It was best to cut the weeds at the root.

Having obliterated an entire mountain hideout before dawn, Elahan pouted slightly and asked, “Khan, are you still not done?”

“All finished!” Khan hastily answered as he rushed out at her call, swinging a heavy bag. “There were some crates buried under the hideout, so it took a little while to dig them up. Sorry for the delay.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then it can’t be helped. Good work,” Elahan said as she peeked into the pouch and gave her impression. “Not much of value. I suppose they didn’t have the strength to go after the wealthy, so they focused on those with even less instead.”

“That’s what I think as well.”

“Ugh, like leeches sucking a flea’s blood.”

The law of the jungle was a vicious cycle that could never be broken. The strong preyed on the weak, and the weak, in turn, exploited those even weaker than them—an endless food chain of suffering.

Farmers, unable to bear the weight of cruel taxation, fled to the mountains and became bandits, only to rob other farmers to fill their bellies. Whose fault was that, really?

“Apostates who exploited the Goddess’s mercy,” Elahan murmured to herself in a voice so low that even Khan, standing beside her, couldn’t hear.

It was a voice sharp as a finely forged blade—far colder than her usual tone. The Holy Church had not forgotten.

They remembered the sin of those humans whose crimes gave birth to this world’s corrupt class system. Though the Goddess, in her mercy, punished only a few instigators before quelling her wrath, the shape of the world they broke had yet to return to what it was meant to be.

Sensing something was off, Khan carefully stepped back and muttered, “Uh, Saintess...?”

He was a man who’d become an Expert-level fighter from living as a slum thug. His survival instincts were sharper than those of any wild beast.

“Sorry. Just remembered something unpleasant.”

Elahan turned to him with a bright smile, and like magic, the grim air around them melted away. However, Khan wasn’t fooled by that smile.

This woman is a monster...

It wasn’t in his head. The chill that crawled up his spine—the killing intent that had gripped the back of his neck—proved it. Just a single wisp of her aura had frozen someone as battle-hardened as him in place.

What he’d seen until now was just one side of her: the figure who reformed evil and judged the guilty. However, the Saintess was also the de facto leader of the Holy Iron Inquisitors and the pinnacle of divine force used to eradicate heretics. That merciless face was not something a back-alley thug could dare approach.

“Let’s get moving. At this pace, we’ll reach our destination before sundown,” Elahan said.

“I’ll... lead the way.”

There’s no one more devoted to the law of power than a former thug. Now even more deferential, Khan guided Elahan across two territories. After four days, they arrived in Blaine.

By then, the number of human cabbages planted into the ground had reached 958.

Because they had the misfortune of lying in Elahan’s path, twelve criminal organizations and nearly a thousand wrongdoers had been purged. Naturally, their confiscated assets and bounties were returned to their proven victims through local branches of the Church.

Just like that, the Holy Church’s reputation soared once more as a bonus.

***

“Wow! We’re here!”

Elahan raised her voice as she passed through the gates of Blaine. Their pace had been faster than expected.

She thought they’d arrive just as the sun set, but it still hung high in the sky. Both Khan and Elahan could run faster than horses, and neither of them tired even after half a day of sprinting, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise.

“Doesn’t look much different from a year ago,” Khan muttered with a tinge of nostalgia as he glanced around the still-bustling city streets, reminiscing about the days when everyone used to watch his every move.

At that moment, Elahan said, “If the City Swallowing had succeeded, this lively street would’ve been reduced to rubble. And if that had happened, Khan, you and your men certainly wouldn’t have survived.”

“Well, we got lucky in many ways.”

“Instead of longing for a time when you thrived in evil, you should be grateful that you were able to save yourself through good deeds.”

Khan flinched and turned to look at her, but Elahan wasn’t even facing him. Whether it was her divine insight as a Saintess or simply a coincidence, her words had pierced right through his conscience. That was all Elahan said on the matter.

“Let’s go to the slums first,” she said.

“The slums...?”

“Yes. I can visit Bishop Caesare any time without issue, but I’d like to see the place where Hero Leon once made his stand.”

“Understood.”

The two began walking again in the same direction. They passed through a street crowded with peddlers, then through alleys thick with the scent of food and market stalls. As befitting a city nicknamed the “Freedom City,” the scene was wonderfully colorful.

Hooh.

Elahan eagerly moved her eyes, not wanting to miss a single detail. It was a world she had never seen before. She didn’t exactly dislike life in the Church’s headquarters, but after nearly twenty years of the same scenery, it was only natural that she’d grow bored with it.

And then—

“Erm...”

Khan grabbed the back of his neck as they reached their destination. Elahan, who’d followed behind him, tilted her head.

“Hmm? Are we going the wrong way?”

“No.”

Khan’s memory wasn’t poor enough to forget the route to his old base in less than a year. That could only have meant one thing.

He let out a deep sigh and admitted it honestly, “The slums seem to have vanished.”

He had considered the possibility, but he didn’t actually expect it to be true. While trying to figure out how to explain this to Elahan, he looked around the completely transformed district.

The streets once stained with filth were gone, as were the crumbling buildings. In their place were sturdy structures filled with laughter, and even well-maintained trees lined the neatly paved roads.

I knew they’d rebuild after the raid, but I didn’t think they’d throw this much money at it...

The fall of the slums was something he’d already predicted. Once both he and the Keeper were gone, their collapse was inevitable.

The Keeper was a top-tier assassin feared even by high nobles, and Khan had kept the other thugs in check with sheer force to prevent large-scale conflict. Although there was the Golden Pig, who had nothing but money, he couldn’t have rebuilt and ruled the district on his own.

And they lost a good chunk of that money hiring mercenaries to fight against those freaks, anyway.

Wealth, in the end, was indirect power. Without real, tangible physical force to back it up, one couldn’t survive in the underworld, where laws didn’t protect them.

Up until the raid, Khan and the Keeper had stopped outside forces from interfering. Once they were gone, the Golden Pig likely folded quickly under Count Blaine’s pressure.

Elahan nodded in understanding after hearing Khan’s explanation and muttered, “A loan shark with plenty of enemies, left with no strength to protect himself...”

“Isn’t much different from being tossed naked in front of a starving beast.”

“That’s karma for you.”

In the underworld, when one ran out of money, they would be stripped of their belongings—and when those were gone, they would lose their family. There must’ve been more than a few people sharpening their knives with tears of their own blood. The Golden Pig probably didn’t die a peaceful death.

Then, a voice familiar to Khan called out to him.

“Huh?! B-Boss?!”

A man passing by locked eyes with Khan and dropped the bundle in his arms. Khan recognized him quickly.

“Roy? You’re still alive?”

Back when Khan ruled as the Fang, Roy had been a field leader for the Bastards. He was known for his skill with throwing daggers and hand axes, but despite his decent technique, his lack of talent in Aura kept him at second-rate.

Roy nodded vigorously in response and said, “Y-yes, boss! Barely survived! The bishop came up with a compromise, though!”

“You mean that Iron Inquisitor?”

“Yes, him. He beat the hell out of all of us, then said if we didn’t want our heads flying off the guillotine, we’d better work hard rebuilding the ruins and helping the poor!”

In short, they paid for their lives with manual labor. They’d rebuilt the wrecked district in under a year—it must’ve been grueling work. Even so, Roy didn’t seem too upset.

“Sure, I’d like to go back to the easy life, but working as a volunteer for the Church... isn’t half bad.”

“Good for you. I’ve got no plans to get back into the game myself.”

The moment he ran into the Saintess, the smooth sailing he had envisioned for himself had burned to ashes in an instant.

“So, where’s that bishop guy?” Khan asked, and Roy’s voice started to tremble.

“W-wait, B-Boss, you’re not thinking of...?”

“You idiot. What, you think I’m crazy enough to pick a fight with a Holy Iron Inquisitor? I’ve brought a guest.”

“A guest...?”

Finally, Roy’s eyes landed on the woman standing behind Khan.

“Ah... ahhh...”

Even with her hood pulled up, her radiance was impossible to hide. Roy froze in place, mesmerized by the sight.

Back when he was active as a field leader, he’d prided himself on having seen his share of beauties in brothels. However, the moment he locked eyes with Elahan, he realized how arrogant that thought had been.

“What are you standing around for?” Khan reprimanded.

“S-sorry, Boss! I’ll guide you right away!”

Only after Khan barked at him did he move, and after several backward glances, they reached their destination: the Blaine Branch of the Holy Church.

A clean, larger white-brick building greeted them—newer and tidier than the one from a year ago. Judging by the kids’ voices coming from the back, it seemed like they were caring for the children who used to live in the slums.

Wearing a conflicted expression, Khan knocked on the door. A moment later, the door opened, and an elf in the same attire as before stepped outside. That elf, of course, was Caesare.

“Hoh,” Caesare mused as he looked at Khan with a deadpan expression. “Didn’t expect to see that ugly mug again.”

“Right back at you, goddammit.”

“Then what brings you here?”

Still frowning at the unexpected visitor, Caesare didn’t have time to finish before Elahan popped out from behind Khan.

“Caesare! Long time no see!”

She pulled down her hood and flashed a bright smile.

“Oh, good Goddess.”

Caesare clutched the back of his neck at the sight of her. Khan, seeing his reaction, felt a strange sense of kinship stir inside him. It was the moment Saint Elahan’s righteous tyranny made even a former slum boss feel a sense of shared suffering with someone else.