〈 Episode 90 〉 Unblessed Wedding (6）
*
Please, don’t fight over me!
I always wanted to say that at least once in my life, even if I couldn’t.
The image of exquisite beauties pulling my hair and arguing over me is like a kind of romantic fantasy for men.
If there’s a man who hasn’t fantasized about this, he must either not be a man or must like men.
But just like anything taken too far becomes poison, if that mischievous dispute crosses a certain line, I won’t be able to just blissfully watch anymore.
The sight of little cats scrapping might seem cute, but when giant lions with claws and fangs clash majestically, it can send chills down anyone’s spine.
Clang! Clang!
The terrifying pangongseong echoed like thunder in the space. I imagined it would feel like this if tossed into the eye of a storm.
Meanwhile, the Hero was sprinting about the church at a speed my limited vision couldn’t follow, using the floor and walls as his personal playground.
In front of the Hero’s unpredictable movements, the calm demeanor of the Saintess, who stared blankly ahead, seemed utterly unrelated to the Hero’s fierce attacks.
However.
Crash! Crick! Crack!
Objects around the Saintess occasionally shattered into pieces, accompanied by deafening sounds that struck my ears late.
It was clear that an extraordinary combat was taking place between them, one where I couldn’t even recognize the fragments of the culprit.
Though I desperately wanted to intervene, I had to just watch silently. If I spoke and disrupted one side’s concentration, I couldn’t guarantee how this fight would end.
Besides, my energy to even talk had dried up long ago, so holding onto my fading consciousness with all I had was all I could really manage.
”·····”
”·····”
Even without exchanging a word, I could clearly sense that their crazed gazes were trying to take each other’s lives.
Swish!
Before the Hero’s blade, which could cut even scales hundreds of times harder than steel, the Saintess conjured mysterious and translucent chains that seemed to spring from nowhere.
The chains wrapped tightly around the Saintess’s petite body, moving as if they had their own will with remarkable agility.
Yet, for some reason, the Hero seemed totally oblivious to the loud chains surrounding the Saintess.
”A shield? No, judging by the sensation from the blade tip, it resembles tentacles or a tail. It’s certainly bothersome that I can’t visually confirm its shape, but deducing its outline from the flow of air and the occasional feeling of malice is nothing for me. Moreover, I already figured out how much force it would take to break it and the angles at which my response would be delayed.”
His cold analysis of the opponent’s capabilities indicated the Hero had fully entered a battle-ready stance.
Yes. Right now, the Hero was genuinely and fully trying to kill the Saintess.
”For the sin of soiling and teasing the Priest’s pure body, you deserve to die a thousand times. However, if you release the Priestess even now, I may be inclined to show mercy as a Hero by merely cutting off that disgusting mouth and hands·····.”
Just as the Hero adjusted his grip on the sword to launch a menacing proclamation toward the Saintess.
Peck.
The Saintess suddenly kissed my cheek as if unsure how to react to the Hero’s absurd offer.
It wasn’t just a mere touch of lips; that devilishly teasing flick of her tongue was quite provocative.
But compared to the action that followed, it was nothing more than a drop in the ocean.
”W-what!”
Grabbing my limp left hand, the Saintess proudly lifted it in front of the Hero. The Hero’s horrified words came right after.
”Did you see that? It’s mine.”
The radiance in the Hero’s eyes clouded in an instant.
My left hand. His anxious gaze lingered on the ring on my ring finger for a while before silently shifting to a similar ornament on the Saintess’s ring finger.
Just like someone who’s deeply asleep jolts awake when pricked by a needle, my blurry consciousness became clearer, influenced heavily by the Hero’s ominous malice filling the cramped church like smog.
When on earth did this happen.
That calm thought had to be set aside for a moment.
The situation I thought couldn’t get any worse was heading into a darker direction with not a shred of hope in sight.
Just then.
A nameless group of strangers suddenly blocked the Hero’s path as he stood there like a dignified lord with his eyes wide open.
The identity of those numerous figures was the guests positioned like mannequins in the church.
With disturbingly cheerful smiles plastered on their faces, they blocked the Hero’s way like robots just following orders—quite a chilling sight indeed.
”May God smile upon you!”
May God smile upon you.
The most common greeting among clergy.
Starting with the loud call of the woman who had invited me here, everyone in the church began to raise their voices in succession.
”May God smile upon you!”
”May God smile upon you!”
”May God smile upon you!”
Their faces, filled with intense fanaticism, were those of absolute zealots.
”I don’t know who you all are or where you came from, but if you’re unrelated, please leave immediately····.”
Despite the Hero’s fierce warning, their fervor didn’t ease. No, it was as if it intensified with each passing moment.
Clatter. Clatter.
Something was off.
Under normal circumstances, merely feeling the Hero’s aura would send common folks who couldn’t handle magic fleeing or collapsing from shock.
Yet, they didn’t flee or faint.
Not only that, but their action of picking up debris and wooden splinters scattered on the ground made them seem more like soldiers anticipating war.
····Could it be?
”You don’t mean to challenge me, do you····?”
”May God smile upon you!”
The ominous premonition I hoped would miss hit its mark.
Surrounding the Hero in a circle, those guests, with their bright smiles, seemed poised to pounce on the Hero at any second.
I didn’t know what kind of scheme was at play, but the identity of the schemer was unmistakable.
”Don’t interfere. My brother and I are going to get married. We’ll all live happily together.”
Like a cat hissing in front of a dog, the Saintess suddenly raised her voice defiantly.
Now that I looked closely, not just around the Hero, but also around the Saintess and me, there were those guests like bodyguards standing firm.
If the Saintess was using them to protect herself from the Hero, I’d feel slightly better.
But even with diminished judgment, it seemed too unnatural for the Saintess, who had experienced the Hero’s overwhelming power firsthand, to depend on such weaklings for protection.
An uneasy suspicion suddenly flickered in my mind.
Was it possible the Saintess needed them as hostages? Or perhaps as a shield against the Hero, whom she anticipated would have difficulty attacking them?
I wanted to deny it, but once that suspicion had risen, it was impossible to suppress it.
”May God smile upon you!”
Just then.
A bright, clear voice that seemed to belong to a child echoed near my feet.
The moment I recognized the source of that voice, my mind froze for a moment.
It was a child.
A scruffy little kid, appearing to be dragged along against their will to a parents’ gathering, still lacking several baby teeth.
With arms spread wide, they were still short enough that they could hardly cover my body, trying to protect us from the Hero.
”Cough!”
The Hero’s expression twisted noticeably upon spotting the child blocking their path.
It was to be expected.
After all, she had vowed never to show a rough side in front of blossoming sprouts, promising never to draw her sword in the city.
”You despicable····!”
There was no doubt that her low voice was filled with indescribable hatred and contempt.
On the other hand, the Saintess appeared altogether unaware of her actions and was looking at me proudly, as if she had achieved something grand, without a trace of regret or guilt.
No, I had to say differently.
Only I could correct her wrongs here and now. I had to do it.
As I struggled to move my rusted lips, creak, it was at that moment.
”Saintess! What in the world are you doing!”
The wavering voice from outside my consciousness filled the cramped church in an instant, and standing at the center of its source was the Sister.
”Saintess···· What is···· happening····?”
The emotion contained in her heartfelt voice was difficult to categorize.
It was less anger and more despair. No, perhaps disappointment and pessimism were more fitting terms.
But this, I could assert without a doubt.
”Welna····! What are you doing····!”
Her face, on the verge of tears, was a chaotic mix of agony, sorrow, and resolute determination, like spilled paint blending together.
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