I’m Not a Loser Like the Hero~♡ I Never Beg for Mercy from Ogres~♡
The bushes rustled sharply, making Cloe jolt in surprise. Abel, however, remained unnervingly calm. He simply glanced toward the thicket and spoke in a casual tone.
“Are you there?”
“Huh~♡ You’ve been waiting for me?”
The figure that emerged from between the branches was none other than Estelle. She had returned in perfect condition—no bruises, no scratches. Only a few streaks of blood from the ogre remained on her clothes and skin.
“That’s not what I meant,” Abel said. “Those sounds from earlier… Were they the ogres collapsing as they died?”
“Yes~♡ Why do you ask?”
Having heard her answer, Abel turned to Cloe and murmured.
“You heard that too, right? The ogres are gone.”
“...Eh… Did the Saint personally slay every last one of them?”
Cloe tilted her head, bewildered. Estelle lowered her gaze, her lips curving into a mischievous smile as she looked at Abel.
“I’m not a loser like the hero~♡ I never beg for mercy from mere ogres~♡”
“I didn’t beg either.”
“You got hit by that flying mace and flew all the way over there, didn’t you~♡”
Estelle giggled tauntingly. Abel shivered, muttering under his breath.
“…Shit.”
“Bad words won’t do, Hero-sama♡”
But to Cloe, the playful squabbling between the Saint and the Hero was barely audible.
The Saint had wiped out an entire pack of upper-class monsters by herself?
“Come here. I’ll heal those wounds you’ve sullied~♡”
“…Okay.”
“You really got beaten up that badly by just some ogres~♡ How embarrassing for the hero~♡”
“Shut up.”
Cloe could only watch the two of them bicker with wide, awed eyes.
#
“Oh? Hero-sama.”
“...What now?”
The Saint, who had been casually healing his wounds, pointed at the Holy Sword on his back.
“It looks like the sword has changed, doesn’t it?”
“Eh?”
Abel drew the blade to check.
It was still pure white, the same size… so what exactly had changed?
“Nothing changed?”
“You’re so narrow-minded~♡ Look at the handle you’re holding.”
“The handle?”
Abel inspected it as instructed.
“…What? Why is it golden? It was gray before…”
“Am I wrong? You didn’t even notice your sword had changed~♡ You dummy~♡ Idiot~♡”
“...Why did it change?”
“Mm~♡ Perhaps the Holy Sword is signaling that it’s ready to open?”
Ah, right. This was the Ego Sword.
“What are the conditions for unlocking the Holy Sword of Order?”
“I don’t know either.”
“Really?”
Last time Elfride had spoken as if she understood.
“The Holy Sword of Order only says the conditions to awaken its self are difficult. No one knows the exact requirements. No one has ever awakened it before.”
Thinking about it, Elfride had also mentioned it was difficult, but hadn’t explained the conditions.
“Then what did I do to make it change like this?”
“Well… the only thing you’ve done is stare at me with a lecherous gaze~♡”
When the hell did I do that, you bastard.
“Maybe it’s because you saved me.”
That was Cloe who spoke.
“You saved me?”
“You saved me when I was about to die to the ogres.”
“Huh… really?”
Estelle narrowed her eyes, looking at him.
Why are you glaring like that? I told you to protect her, didn’t I?
“You looked at Cloe with such a lascivious gaze. I suppose you actually liked it~?”
…No interest in young bodies, crazy woman.
“…When did I look at you like that? Helping someone in danger is only natural.”
“It’s a joke~♡ I’m not like that either.”
Knowing full well she was lying, this was the worst kind of gaslighting.
Perhaps realizing Abel’s thoughts, the Saint’s voice turned suddenly serious.
“The hero is someone who saves people no matter what happens. Never forget the feeling and emotion you get when you save someone.”
“…Yes.”
…Her expression was too serious for me to say anything else.
After healing all the wounds and listening to the Saint’s advice, they sliced off the ogre necks and carried them back. “There should be spoils to show the villagers. They’ll feel safer,” she had said.
“Ahh! Truly, thank you, Hero-sama!!”
And as the Saint had predicted, when they returned to the village and showed the ogre heads, the chief bowed repeatedly in gratitude.
At his age, wouldn’t bowing that low strain his back?
Not just the chief—every villager had come out to look and cheer. Seeing them so happy, it felt worth it.
“Hoo… I suppose we should hold a celebration tonight. For the sake of the Hero-sama as well.”
“I’m fine. You should focus on rebuilding the village instead…”
“No, I can’t allow that. Would you turn an elderly man who has not even thanked his savior into a beggar?”
…If that’s how it is, I have no choice.
“…Please allow this small request.”
“Prepare yourselves!”
The feast the villagers had prepared was held in the evening. Everyone gathered in the village square, with delicious food and drinks laid out in the center, a bonfire blazing brightly.
It really did look like a campfire.
“Here, please eat and drink. Although we didn’t prepare much, I hope you enjoy it.”
“You prepared so much. What are you…”
The chief smiled gently and offered Abel a drink. Glancing sideways at Estelle, she gave a small nod.
Permission granted? Abel accepted the glass without hesitation and downed it in one go.
“Hoo!”
This was the taste of medieval beer. Much better than K-beer?
How I had longed for real beer… Noble gatherings only served wine, which always left a bitter aftertaste.
“It’s delicious!”
“Oh? You like beer, Hero-sama?”
“Yes. Please pour more, Chief!”
Cloe carefully accepted a glass from the village women and sipped carefully.
This Cloe, she really does drink beer like that.
After one more hearty swallow, the chief clapped his hands.
“Well done, Hero-sama!”
“Kyah! This is the taste!”
“We’ve prepared plenty of drinks. Please enjoy the snacks as well!”
“Oh! The food is also good!”
This was a party. Noble gatherings were always heavy and lacking in fun.
On average, though, the villagers were quite pretty, so the eyes did get a little spoiled—though aside from that, there wasn’t much joy.
Compared to this celebration, though… Just drinking, having fun, no need to hold back. It was perfect.
The Saint… Since she was a priestess, she had politely declined the alcohol. Watching her merely nibble at the food, Abel felt a little disappointed.
I knew she wouldn’t drink, didn’t I?
Shame on her for not being able to enjoy this delicious drink, you crazy woman~!
#
“…Ugh…”
Abel was passed out cold. He had started drinking with full intention, but after only a few drinks, he had collapsed.
Cloe, perhaps because alcohol affected her, had also fallen asleep on the ground even without much to drink.
Only Estelle remained perfectly awake, sitting and watching the fire burn low. The chief approached her.
“Saint, does the food suit your taste?”
“…Yes. It was delicious.”
It had been delicious. Yet Estelle hadn’t really enjoyed the food.
“Unless you were just pretending.”
“...Eh?”
The chief looked at her with confusion. Estelle gave him a sly smile.
“So, when will you start?”
“I’ll get tired of waiting.”
The Saint looked at him with knowing eyes. The chief had initially been flustered, but soon chuckled.
“Hoho…”
He wiped the smile from his face and asked seriously.
“…Since when did you suspect?”
“Since you were being pressured by ogres and couldn’t request help. It didn’t make sense.”
Estelle laughed softly.
“Ogres are not as smart as trolls. Could they really have noticed that the villagers were trying to escape? Those idiots didn’t even think about people slipping away in secret.”
“You know monsters far too well.”
Although Estelle had not said it, there were more suspicious details.
First, the slaughterhouse visible in the distance. They had gone there pretending to offer sacrifices, yet found places everywhere with traps set. The villagers called it a slaughterhouse, but that was impossible.
A real slaughterhouse would have livestock, yet nowhere in the village could any be found—no cows, pigs, or even chickens.
Even if the ogres had eaten all the animals, some facilities should remain, but there were none.
That meant the “slaughterhouse” was a lie. So what was it? Why so many traps and bloodstains?
The answer was obvious. The place where they had sliced open the bellies of non-livestock and disposed of the corpses.
Yes. “People.” This entire village had been committing these atrocities.
If that was the case, it also explained why they couldn’t seek help from other villages and why so many trap locations dotted the area. Nestled in a hidden mountain valley, they had never been spotted.
The only question was… how had the security forces of Lancaster City failed to patrol this far? How had they kept trafficking humans under their noses? That remained the mystery.
‘...Well, I’ll find out later.’
“By the way, you’ve held out for over a year. Impressive. The ogres must have eaten an enormous amount. You must have saved quite a bit of money.”
“…You don’t even realize how dangerous it is to be too clever. If you and your companions had been sleeping, you’d have escaped safely.”
The villagers, including the chief, rose with weapons drawn. Even those who had seemed passed out were awake. They had all been illusions.
Abel briefly glanced at them before returning his gaze to the flames. Estelle murmured.
“The nun of the church calling me… Kih.”
Lightly laughing, Estelle turned to the chief.
“Allow me one chance. Surrender now and I’ll spare you.”
“You’re bluffing. As a mere token that only blesses beside the hero, what confidence do you have?”
“Token?… Hahaha! You know quite a bit about the current relationship between the hero and the saint.”
The relationship between the hero and saint of this era was exactly as the chief had described. Battles were left to the hero; the saint only blessed from the side, nothing more.
There was no other choice. All existing saints were fake.
The true saint was the deity’s direct representative. Yet the deity did not appoint one every time.
In the age of the Demon King and monsters, when humans feared for their lives, every church began selecting saint candidates without divine omens to support heroes and expand their influence.
It had become tradition. Today, every generation received a saint.
That was why all saints could only bless. They knew no holy techniques to support heroes, and even if they did, they lacked divine power. They were not true saints—only imitations.
In that sense, the chief’s words were accurate. A token that only grants blessings. It was so funny.
The villagers began closing in on Estelle, weapons and shackles in hand, ready to bind her and Abel and Cloe together.
“…Do you know what that is?”
But none of them knew.
“Capture them!”
“I’m the real one.”
《 Sacred Chain 》
Clang! Clang!
In an instant, pure-white chains shot from the air and bound every villager. They could not even take a step.
The chief, unable to hide his shock, shouted at Estelle.
“W-What did you do!?”
“I merely revealed the power of the true saint.”
“…What?”
Estelle moved her light body to stand up and tilted her head slightly toward the chief.
“Ah, and something else you seem to have misunderstood. The one who exterminated the ogre pack…”
Her lips parted into a soft, cruel curve. Between them came a voice that was sweet yet merciless.
“It was me~♡”