Chapter 78

It's hilarious every single time I watch it. What a genuinely funny broadcast.

Even though this is a saintess competition, I believe the only relay channel that actually delivers entertainment is Ibril's.

Ibril is young and innocent, so there are plenty of moments where she experiences culture shock or pure surprise while encountering the mercenary world for the first time. Having worked many part-time jobs since she was young and interacted with all kinds of people, she has built quite a friendly relationship with the mercenaries.

Sometimes that friendliness goes a bit too far.

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Some mercenaries even volunteered to act as her escort. While Ibril herself felt embarrassed, the viewers' reactions were overwhelmingly positive.

Comments like these poured in constantly.

Thanks to that, Ibril received the public's affection in full force, and her viewership ratings continued to soar.

She had widened the gap with second place significantly. Ibril's rapid rise had come at the expense of the elves' ratings.

The previous leader, the high elf queen's granddaughter Grace High-Elven, had dropped to third. Even that third-place spot was now being threatened by Judy Esther, who was in an alliance with Ibril.

This was simply the nature of elves.

At the beginning of their broadcast appearances, their dazzling beauty captured everyone's attention. But their characteristically aloof demeanor, their single-minded focus on tasks, and their perfect execution of those tasks turned the entire broadcast into something closer to a documentary.

No matter how nice it was to look at their faces, if the content wasn't entertaining, viewers would eventually get bored.

Once people had a clear grasp of each candidate's personality, the audience migration began. And the one who received the most attention was Ibril.

However, the other candidate factions, who treated the ratings like a scoreboard, viewed Ibril with extreme displeasure.

Some candidate factions even resorted to these dirty media tactics.

Still, we had expected this kind of backlash the moment Ibril started receiving attention, so we responded swiftly.

A challenge to the Church and a declaration of apostasy?

This was a measure that would not only eliminate the candidates but also shake the very power structures backing their sponsors.

In a world where the power of the creator goddess Sepia influenced every corner of society, the only apostates hiding in the shadows were devil worshippers.

In other words, being marked by the Church and declared an apostate meant being treated as no different from them.

It was essentially the same as turning the entire world into your enemy. Nothing short of suicide.

"With this, two of the fifteen saintess candidates have been eliminated."

The moment their names were mentioned in the Holy Land's warning, their competition was effectively over.

The clergy who had supported them would withdraw, and global criticism would pour down on their factions.

"It's unfortunate for the candidates, but it can't be helped. Their sponsors are essentially part of the package."

Because of the Holy Land's firm stance, no one treated the statements about Ibril as fact.

Instead, a wave of sympathy formed around her, which only solidified her popularity even further.

Of course, my own media play played a major role in creating that sympathetic public opinion.

After crushing those fools who had made such amateurish moves, no one else tried any dirty tricks. For a "political arena" where countless high-ranking power players had gathered, things were proceeding rather cleanly.

However, this situation had created a group that was struggling badly.

The saintess and saint candidates from high-ranking noble families.

When everyone watched the competition with fair eyes and without causing trouble, these people, steeped in elitism and a sense of superiority, naturally turned themselves into villains.

Among them, the standout was undoubtedly Evelyn Francis, the third daughter of Duke Francis. Knowing that broadcast ratings meant nothing toward actually becoming the saintess, she simply did whatever she pleased.

"Leaving her comrades to fight on the battlefield while she enjoys tea time alone. Does that mean her party members are subordinates rather than comrades?"

The situation made me wonder if she was being serious.

What was the point of faithfully carrying out her duties as a mercenary if everything else was completely off the mark?

Whenever I saw someone like Evelyn Francis, I could only be amazed.

There must be people in her faction who plan strategies. Are they simply not pointing these things out?

"No. It's simply that my way of thinking differs from other nobles."

To them, commoners were not people whose opinions needed to be considered.

That was why they could act in ways that seemed completely insane without batting an eye.

I shook my head slowly.

"Still, this is too much."

This competition wasn't about choosing a saintess for the nobles. It was about choosing a saintess for the world.

I could probably set aside Evelyn, whom I had once considered a strong rival.

At this point, Ibril's real rivals seemed to be the aloof but dutiful high elf lady and Judy Esther, the commoner sponsored by Olivia.

I switched between channels while watching the broadcasts and came across a scene where, despite Ibril telling them not to follow, a group of mercenaries had volunteered to escort her all the way to the hunting ground.

"What the hell is this?"

The rules forbade hiring additional mercenaries outside of your party, but there was no rule against people volunteering on their own.

Still, it was more than enough grounds for the other factions to protest.

As a result, while others led small mercenary parties, Ibril looked more like the leader of an entire mercenary corps.

Ibril headed out with her party to hunt five trolls as part of a B-rank quest.

"Shield!"

"Fireball!"

"Fire Arrow!"

Since every member of Ibril's party except her was a magic swordsman, their battles were inevitably flashy.

In particular, Lopez possessed the skills of both a full-fledged mage and a full-fledged knight. His combat power reached the level of an aura expert, giving their party a clear advantage in hunting compared to the others.

"Lady Ibril!"

"Yes! Holy Defense!"

That didn't mean she was simply riding on her party's coattails, however.

Although she could only use four types of holy magic—Healing, Defense, Blessing, and Enchantment—her enormous reserves of holy power meant she rarely tired. Each effect was also powerful enough to trigger the "Angel Feather" visual effect.

Because of this, even as newcomers ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to the mercenary life, they displayed a sense of stability far beyond their experience. The constant explosion of visual effects made the broadcast ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a feast for the eyes for viewers as well.

And they had one more secret weapon.

"Lady Ibril! We've gathered the corpses over here!"

The overly helpful mercenaries.

They waved at Ibril as they dragged over a floating board loaded with troll corpses.

"Huh?"

"Use them to complete your quest, Lady Ibril."

Thanks to them, the subjugation quest was finished in just ten minutes after entering the hunting ground.

However, Ibril's reaction to the mercenaries' kindness was pure anxiety and confusion.

The reason was simple. Her party had only hunted one troll. The rest had been voluntarily hunted by the mercenaries who stepped forward to help and then offered the corpses to her.

"I-Is this really okay?"

Ibril asked the cameraman, but how would he know?

The camera simply shook left and right in a "no idea" gesture.

"His Lordship said he would verify the results himself. Until then, he wants you to continue your activities normally."

"Even if he says to act normally..."

Ibril looked at the mercenaries with their fierce appearances.

At first they had only looked scary, but the more she saw them, the more familiar they became. She realized that mercenaries who lived by the sword were ultimately no different from ordinary people.

When their eyes met hers, every one of them showed pure, simple smiles.

"All of you fight to make a living. Is it really all right to waste your time because of me?"

Ibril couldn't help but ask.

It was true that she had shown them kindness by healing them, but their reactions felt far too excessive for that alone.

She couldn't easily understand why these mercenaries would give up their valuable time to help her for free.

"Doesn't the world point fingers at mercenaries, calling us lowlifes who sell our lives for money?"

The mercenary's response was unexpectedly serious.

The one who answered her was the very first mercenary she had healed—the one who had been badmouthing her at the start.

"That's not true. Not everyone is like that."

Ibril shook her head, saying she didn't think that way at all, but she couldn't deny his next words.

"The fact that not everyone is like that also means some people are. The general social perception is exactly as I described. You know that, right?"

"......"

Ibril looked apologetic even though she had done nothing wrong.

The mercenary grinned and continued.

"But you're different, Lady Ibril. You treat everyone without discrimination. I may not look it, but I pride myself on having the most vicious face among all mercenaries. Yet you approached someone like me first, used healing magic on me, and then ran off. You're no ordinary angel."

An angel? Ibril fidgeted, saying the comparison was too much.

"Ahem, so that's why we're getting involved."

"Pardon?"

"We're dipping our toes into the competition to make you the saintess, Lady Ibril. If you become the saintess with our help, won't that change the image of mercenaries at least a little?"

Beasts who would abandon humanity for money.

Creatures who might stab you in the back at any moment.

His statement could be interpreted as an attempt to change those common perceptions even slightly.

"We've seen the other competition channels. They're a mess. Regardless of our help, someone like you, Lady Ibril, should be the one to become ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the saintess."

"Well said!"

"Ibril! Ibril! Ibril!"

When the mercenaries began chanting her name again, Ibril made an awkward face.

She had done those things without putting much meaning behind them.

Yet those actions were creating unexpected results.

Ibril realized that her casual kindness could hold great significance for someone else.

"I-I'll do my best!"

For the first time, she revealed her determination in front of the mercenaries who were cheering her name.

"It's like a youth drama."

That was the comment from Allen Lopez, the magic swordsman who could be considered the actual leader of Ibril's party.

Unlike the other candidates' channels, Ibril's contained not only entertainment but also growth elements reminiscent of a youth drama.

It was only natural that her popularity was skyrocketing.

This was enough to irritate the noble-born saintess candidates who had been acting however they pleased, claiming that the opinions of commoners could be ignored.

"Should we really leave that commoner wench Ibril alone?"

"But what can we do? The Holy Land is watching with fire in their eyes..."

"We just have to make sure we don't get caught no matter what we do, right? The ones who got caught doing media play were simply stupid."

"Hmm..."

"Do we still have to play fair?"

Ibril's popularity was pushing her into an even greater trial.

"Fair play was originally a rule created for the poor and talentless anyway. We have no need to follow it."

"That's true. Understood. I will find a way."

"Thank you, Father."