Mission updated

Now that only the saint and the hero remained in the room, the hero truly made himself comfortable. He leaned his chair back slightly and put his feet up on the table.

"You shouldn't be so eager to show your true colors, boy."

"Who cares?" the hero retorted.

"You're the only one who still talks to me like that. If I were the Drug Hero, I might have caressed your cervical spine between the fifth and sixth vertebrae just to give you a herniated disc."

"I don't know who this Drug Hero you're referring to is, but he certainly sounds like a nervous wreck. And let's not forget that it's not my fault you're incapable of doing it."

The hero sniffed. That was precisely why he disliked this woman. She had privileges—and the wit to match.

"Let's cut to the chase. Hand over the sacred sword."

"The information about the Seven Great Catastrophes is something few people know. If the existence of the King is a legend, then the Catastrophes are a myth. My brother, just how much do you know about the Seven Great Catastrophes?"

"Are you going to give me the sword or not?"

The saint's face showed no particular emotion. The hero could only assume that if he didn't talk, the conversation wouldn't move forward, and eventually, the quest would be a failure.

"I don't know much. In this world's history, aside from the threat posed by the Demon King, there are seven Great Catastrophes. Occasionally, one of them awakens in an era, marking the end of one age and the birth of another. At least, that's what the legends say."

"Well, they aren't just legends. The Seven Great Catastrophes are very real."

Wow, I had no idea, the hero thought sarcastically, mimicking a childish voice in his head.

"And one of these Catastrophes is about to descend upon the world."

"All the more reason to give me the sacred sword!" the hero shouted, slamming his fist on the table.

The saint sighed.

"When I first met you, I never thought you'd turn out like this."

Even though she hadn't participated in the secret summoning ritual conducted by the Celestial Kingdom, her missions had eventually led her to cross paths with him. That was back when the hero was still new to this world, and despite the time that had passed, their personalities hadn't changed much. But with the power he had gained, she had hoped it would be different.

She rose from her chair and turned her back on the hero, clasping her hands behind her, looking pensive.

Then she spoke.

"You can't have everything you want by trampling over others, Iroas. Chreois? Is that what you call yourself now? Boy, just because everyone turns a blind eye to your actions doesn't mean they go unnoticed. One day, sooner or later, they'll come back to haunt you."

"In your current state, not only are you unworthy of wielding the sacred sword—"

"That's not for you to decide!" the hero shouted, cutting her off.

"Why do you expect me to save your world while putting obstacles in my way?"

"Has your temper worsened now that a little bit of power has gone to your head, boy? What will happen when you have even more? Will you respect no one?"

The hero swallowed hard. He had forgotten one thing about the saint—her personality had nothing in common with those who were considered saints in his world.

Even though he had confidence in his strength, provoking the saint was not a good idea. She could respond in kind, and if it came down to a fight, and the Church got involved, returning to his world in a coffin would be a luxury.

This was a battle he was destined to lose. Heseh, Butler, and especially Demigra were nearby. He didn't even want to imagine making an enemy of the latter—not yet, at least.

"Tch." The hero looked away, frustrated.

The saint didn't turn around to see his expression.

"The condition for receiving the sacred sword is simple. Since all the kingdoms were caught off guard by the Celestial Kingdom, they fear it will gain too much power over the others. The unity of all is at stake. Prove your worth."

"By proving your worth, walk the path of a true hero, and the sacred sword will come to you."

"What a load of bullshit. So that's your stance on the matter?"

Mission: Convince the Saint

The hero clenched his teeth. He had no time to waste on these ridiculous trials. He already knew his worth. But convincing the saint seemed to be the only option.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, releasing the tension in his shoulders. Play along, at least for now.

"Fine," he said, his tone calmer but still irritated. "If that's the price to pay for the sacred sword, then tell me exactly what you expect me to do."

The saint gave a barely noticeable smile before finally turning to face him.

"Proving your worth doesn't just mean fighting, Iroas. This world needs a hero who does more than just strike down his enemies—one who understands the responsibility of his power."

The hero raised an eyebrow.

"Spare me the moral speeches. Give me a concrete challenge, something I can actually accomplish."

Ah, here we go again...

He seems utterly impervious to anything I say. I really wonder if he even understands what's coming for him if he keeps acting like this. The time for blaming others for his arrival in this world is over. If he can't adapt fast enough—no, he adapted too quickly and took the wrong path...

The saint nodded, as if she had expected his response.

"Very well. Your first task: travel to the kingdom of SunKhun and protect it from an imminent threat."

That should keep him occupied for a while. In the meantime, I'll find another solution. Though, I am really curious how he learned about the Seven Great Catastrophes... That's something even kings are unaware of.

"A threat? What kind of threat?" Iroas asked, pulling her out of her deep thoughts.

"Someone connected to JKP is preparing to summon a demon in that city. We have intel suggesting that cultists are trying to accelerate its descent."

The hero burst into laughter.

"That's it? You could've just asked! I'll crush these cultists, and the problem will be solved."

The saint remained expressionless.

"I don't doubt your ability to defeat your enemies, but what I expect from you is something else. Protect this city and its people but more importantly, do it as a true hero. Show us that you're more than just a power-hungry mercenary."

Iroas clicked his tongue, annoyed.

"Tch. As if saving a city wasn't enough."

"It's not me you have to convince," she said, handing him a parchment. "This document will grant you access to SunKhun as an official envoy of the Church. You will be expected."

The hero snatched the parchment from her hands and stood up.

"Fine. I'll go play hero for your damn church."

"We'll see if you're capable of it," she concluded, crossing her arms.

Iroas remained motionless for a moment, his fingers clenched around the parchment the saint had handed him. The heavy air in the room seemed to press down on him, as if the mere presence of this woman burdened him with an invisible weight. His jaw was tight, his muscles tense with frustration.

This wasn't the first time he had been denied something, but he had thought that, this time, it would be different. After all, he was the hero, the chosen one, the one summoned to save this world. So why did he always have to prove his worth as if he were some second-rate soldier?

He lifted his eyes to the saint, who still gazed at him with that same unreadable calm, a mix of authority and exasperating patience. She didn't waver under his dark glare, didn't show fear or doubt. She stood straight, her immaculate cloak draped around her, arms crossed as if she were judging his every move.

The silence stretched between them, heavy, charged with a tension ready to snap.

Iroas opened his mouth to speak to shout something, to spit out one last sharp remark. But he held back. What was the point? She wouldn't change her mind. She still looked at him with that same knowing glint in her eyes, as if she could see right through him, as if she already knew how this would end.

"Tch…" He clicked his tongue, a sharp, irritated sound, before looking away.

He turned abruptly, his cloak whipping behind him. His footsteps echoed through the room, heavy with restrained anger. He strode toward the door, his hand closing around the handle with enough force to make the metal creak under his grip.

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze fixed on the worn wood of the door. A part of him still wanted to turn back, to say something, to not let the conversation end like this. But what did it matter?

She had won.

At least for now.

With a sharp movement, he swung the door open. The cooler air of the hallway hit his face, a stark contrast to the stifling heat of the room where their verbal battle had played out. Without a backward glance, he stepped into the corridor, his footsteps ringing against the polished marble floor.

A few priests and knights nearby instinctively moved aside as he passed, sensing the tense aura radiating from him. Some lowered their eyes, others dared to glance at him for a moment, but none spoke.

His heart pounded furiously in his chest, his mind still boiling with frustration. He felt like a caged lion, forced to wait, to play a role that didn't suit him.

He could have ended this charade, taken what he wanted by force, but he knew it wasn't the right time. Not here, not now.

One thing was certain: the saint hadn't just sent him on a mission. She had tested him. And he hated it.

But fine.

If she wanted a hero, he would give her one.

But it would be on his own terms.

Without another word, Iroas turned on his heels and left the room.

Mission failed.

Mission Updated:

Convince the Saint by completing the mission in SunKhun.