The Peculiar Saintess and the Scarecrow Massacre
The saintess standing before my eyes—no, before hers—gave off a vibe that could only be described as utterly peculiar. She was undoubtedly beautiful and elegant, yet somehow she seemed a bit... off, like a screw was loose somewhere. For Iris, who preferred perfection in all things, that appearance furrowed her brows. But with the emperor, the saintess, and the priests of the Holy Empire all present, she couldn't exactly express her full disdain. Especially since she hadn't even properly returned the greeting yet.
"Ah. I am Iris Lua Sa Ermunt, the moon of the Ermunt Empire. Welcome, Saintess."
At the word "welcome," the saintess pondered for a moment before breaking into a clear, bright smile—one so pure it made onlookers feel as if the world itself had been cleansed.
'......'
But for some reason, the crown princess found that smile deeply uncomfortable.
"Hoho, our saintess truly brightens the world with just a smile—she's the real deal."
"Your Majesty, you're too kind. It makes me shy. Ah, and His Holiness asked me to convey his apologies on his behalf for not being able to attend due to illness."
"No need. We're simply grateful he showed his face at the party despite his condition."
Of course, the emperor—who knew nothing of his own daughter's state—busied himself chuckling and praising the saintess.
"Well then, Iris. Come, take a seat. I'm sorry to summon you so late, but with the saintess here, I wanted you both to exchange greetings and discuss some matters."
"Not at all, Your Majesty. How could I, the crown princess of the empire, not make the effort when the saintess has come in person?"
Their conversation was stiff and formal, but that was only natural with the saintess and priests present. In private, the two shared a far warmer parent-child bond than most noble families.
"Iris, you're well aware of the negotiations underway for proper exchanges between our Ermunt Empire and the Holy Empire."
Ermunt and the Holy Empire had long been at odds. Ermunt didn't believe in gods, while the Holy Empire was a nation built entirely on faith in the one true god. They'd fought many wars, their relationship one of endless grudges with no gains to show for it.
But this time, the Ermunt emperor sought to break that cycle and pursue harmony with the Holy Empire.
To elevate Ermunt further, we need the Holy Empire.
In other words, while he pretended to desire peaceful unity, his ultimate goal was to absorb the Holy Empire into Ermunt. Naturally, the Holy Empire's pope was no fool and saw through Ermunt's intentions. Yet they accepted the insincere peace treaty for the same reason—their own ambitions mirrored his.
"To demonstrate smooth relations between our empires, Iris."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"It has been decided that you and the saintess will attend the Imperial Academy together."
"The Imperial Academy... together?"
Iris was already scheduled to enroll next year anyway. One might find it odd for a crown princess to attend an academy, but it was Ermunt tradition: mingling with noble heirs to build alliances and solidify power through politics, while living among commoners to foster a better world for them.
"You were set to enter the academy next year regardless, Iris. We'll arrange for the saintess to enroll alongside you. Since she's unfamiliar with the empire, I hope you'll lend her your support."
For the first time, Iris resented her father as he patted her shoulder encouragingly. She'd be busy securing her own position after enrollment—now she felt saddled with an extra burden.
"I'll do my best, so don't worry too much, Your Highness."
Estelle must have read the expression on Iris's face, stepping in with feigned familiarity.
"Ah, no. I should be the one working harder."
"You had the look of someone who'd just been handed extra luggage."
Estelle's blunt honesty—voicing exactly what she'd observed—stemmed from her straightforward personality. She bowed to no one and always spoke her mind. To Iris, it was profoundly irritating.
"No, not at all. Why would I think such things of a noble saintess like yourself?"
"You're being sarcastic right now, too."
"I'm not, though?"
The emperor and priests could only watch in flustered confusion as Iris forced a smile and Estelle grinned like it was the funniest thing ever. Thus began the two's fateful enmity.
Time had passed—about six months since I'd heard the news of the crown princess and saintess enrolling in the academy next year, and started training for my own admission.
Quite a few changes had occurred in that time. For one...
Name: Theo (Kim Minseong)
Age: 20
Job: Badass Villager
Titles: Proud Son, Village's Top Trickster, Swordsmanship-Proficient Swordsman
My job had upgraded to Badass Villager.
Whoa. Holy. Fucking. Shit. This. Is. So. Damn. Good! Why the hell can't I escape being a goddamn villager?!
Just recently, while diligently practicing swordsmanship, I earned the title Swordsmanship-Proficient Swordsman. The moment I got it, the upgrade conditions were suddenly met, so I upgraded—and boom, Badass Villager. They give me a swordsman title but keep my job as villager? Does that even make sense?! "Suitable title acquired," my ass! Is Swordsmanship-Proficient Swordsman suitable for a Badass Villager?!
Pfft, spit. This pisses me off so much.
"Hey, you punk! Theo! Quit slacking and hit those scarecrows a thousand times each!"
"I'm not slacking, I swear!"
The guy yelling at me in my despair over the job-title mismatch was the butcher who'd been my sword instructor ever since I decided to aim for the academy. Duncan.
At first, I thought, Pfft, learning swordsmanship from a butcher? Come on. But...
Slash! Slaaash! Slash! Shwick—!
A gust of wind whipped up, invisible flashes streaking toward the pigs fleeing between the scarecrows.
"Squeeee—!"
They all dropped in one hit.
Yeah, the butcher was one of the hidden masters. And then there was that casual strength as he hauled away five or six pigs like it was nothing. No idea why a guy this insane ran a butcher shop in a backwater village like ours.
Shwick—! Slaaash—!
"Got it, doing it now!"
So I trained hard without much backtalk...
"Hah, but seriously, when am I gonna build academy-level skills just by smacking scarecrows?"
The old man insisted basics were key from day one and still hadn't taught me anything beyond them, months later.
Fuck! How crucial can these goddamn basics be?! I wanna chop a pig's head off right now!
Should I bolt? Sprint to the pig farm and throw down one-on-one with a hog?!
"You thinkin' of runnin' to the pig farm to hunt swine, you little shit?!"
"Huh? What? N-no... What're you talkin' about?"
Slash! Slaaash! Sla—!
"I'm, uh, diligently slicin' scarecrows here!"
"Yeah? Feels off."
And why was this guy's intuition so sharp? This wasn't just quick wits—it was mind-reading. I'd picked the worst master ever.
Slaaash—! Scrik—!
"Huh, Master! This one's at 999 hits and it broke!"
The scarecrows that wouldn't shatter after thousands of strikes started crumbling one by one.
"Oh yeah? How many?"
I tried counting the broken ones, but...
"All of 'em."
Everything in sight was obliterated—no need to count.
"Oho, finally smashed 'em all? Feels like the basics are sinkin' in, right?"
Scarecrow Slayer
Hmm, not sure about basics settling in, but I now knew I'd earned a title for massacring scarecrows.
"Now then..."
"Whoa, finally moving to the next stage...!"
Yeah, who cares about Scarecrow Slayer? That wasn't the point! Advancing was!
"What're you on about? There's still that many left."
"Eh...?"
Behind the barn with the pigs and livestock stretched an area twice as big as where I'd been training, packed with even more scarecrows.
"Smash all those, then we move on. Keep it up!"
Haha, fuck. Possession life ain't easy.