The Hero Obtained the Ego Sword
"The hero's colluding with the Demon King's army?!"
Saintess Marian clutched her head in bewilderment inside the room. No, to be precise, "colluding" might not have been the right word. In the scene she'd witnessed, the one firmly in control had looked every bit the hero, no question about it. It would have been more accurate to say the hero had planted a spy in the Demon King's army—but Marian couldn't easily accept that fact.
Even so... the Demon King's army...?
Everyone knew the Demon King's army was humanity's enemy, even before Marian became a saintess. It wasn't jealousy over some mysterious woman impersonating her and sleeping with the hero. No, that wasn't it at all. Still, the reason Marian had hidden herself was simple: the woman currently tangled up with the hero in her guise was undoubtedly the same one she'd seen near Butler Territory before.
Her appearance had changed completely, but the woman in the hero's room—who looked just like Marian—radiated a similar aura to that figure from back then. The problem was, for some reason, that woman could see her. So the saintess had concealed herself before the Demon King's minion could spot her astral form.
She didn't like the hero cozying up to—or rather, using—the Demon King's army, but she couldn't ruin her chance to gather vital intel.
She called her Lilite, right?
Marian furrowed her brow, recalling the suspicious name the hero had used for the woman. It didn't sound entirely unfamiliar. And soon enough, she remembered who Lilite was.
One of the original demonkin, the Succubus Queen who drained men's essence. The lewd demon described as the worst of the worst in the Gayana Church scriptures.
Th-that rotten succubus bitch!
Marian bit her lower lip hard in fury. It wasn't surprising for a succubus to bed the hero, but transforming into her own likeness? That was infuriating beyond measure. Marian hadn't even shared a proper kiss with him yet, and now, thanks to this succubus queen, she felt like damaged goods in his eyes.
Overwhelmed with rage, tears welled up as she gnawed viciously on her bitten lip. Why hadn't she demanded a night with him like other women? Lilite had ruined it all. The succubus queen's expression during sex with the hero had looked more lascivious than any Raksha Street whore—even to Marian herself.
It's ruined! Everything's ruined!
The image of Lilite lewdly sucking the hero's sword with that slutty face flashed in her mind. And all the while, her pussy was devouring his cock just fine. Using her mouth and pussy to stimulate him like that—it evoked images of her servicing multiple men at once. Utterly vulgar, perfectly befitting a succubus queen.
The problem was that the lewd face belonged to no one else but Marian herself.
As her hatred for the succubus queen swelled, another doubt suddenly gripped her.
Come to think of it... how did she see me?
One of the original demonkin spotting an astral form wasn't so strange. But the issue was all the things Marian had done, assuming her soul projection state was invincible. If Lilite could see her, that meant the hero might have spotted her too.
No way, that's impossible.
Marian shook her head vigorously to reassure herself, but the seed of doubt wouldn't fade. Moreover, the moment the hero yelled "No!" and exposed Lilite's true nature had been right before Marian was about to attack the succubus queen. It could be coincidence, but the timing was too perfect.
Her cheeks burned hot. Once the suspicion took root, memories of her shameless acts flooded back: peeking right up close while he fucked other women, even rubbing her pussy on his sleeping body.
I-I have to check this out.
For the first time in her life, Marian felt her asshole clench in panic as she hastily activated her soul projection.
"Hm? What the hell is she doing now?"
After regifting Lilite the dwarf-made present and sending her on her way, I was resting. As I lay on the bed, Marian's astral form appeared. But her behavior was different this time. She waved her hand in front of my face, mimicking a shout like "Wah!" to startle me.
The problem? Astral forms don't make noise, and I was way too seasoned to fall for it. I pretended she wasn't there, acting naturally. She tilted her head repeatedly, looking puzzled.
Watching her, I quickly figured it out. Lilite must've shaken her confidence in her ability. My lips twitched with amusement, but I held back the grin, keeping a straight face. Her nightly sneak visits were a hassle, but not unwelcome.
Damn it... crazy bitch!!
But my composure cracked in an instant. When I didn't react, her astral form crept toward my sword, then started rubbing her pussy on it. She flinched suddenly—but not because of me. She'd pressed her crotch lightly against the blade, then fled my room like she'd been spooked by something.
...Pussy... cock... gimme.
...pussy... cock... gimme.
That was the first thought the hero's sword had upon gaining consciousness. It was so faint that even the sword itself barely recognized its own voice—its ego trembled in anxiety, like a newborn baby thrust into the world, its self-awareness still dim and hazy.
The sword gained a sense of self through a freak chain of coincidences.
"Hmm... a bit short on materials?"
The blacksmith who forged it had poured her soul into it with one goal: to bed the hero. Coincidentally, the steel forming the blade included an old dildo once used by a certain dwarf woman. Objects absorb spirits from prolonged handling. In distant lands, they called such things goblins, but that's beside the point.
Just including a dildo wouldn't birth an ego sword. It melted traceless in the forge's blaze, its faint spirit nearly vanishing. But Katrin's masterful skill embedded that wisp into the blade, where familiar vibrations slowly revived it.
Of course, that alone wouldn't create a legendary ego sword.
The first energy it absorbed was thick death aura.
"Damn it! What the hell is this?!"
The blade that sliced the self-proclaimed Lord of Death Bahamons' arm inevitably took in his deathly magic, gaining a sliver of power. Soon after, it fell into the hands of the saintess infused with the goddess's holy power.
"Hah! Haaang!! H-hero... hah!!"
Whatever kind of saintess she was, her lewd fluids from her holy-infused body soaked the hero's sword. The spirit within began absorbing that divine power, slowly forming a rudimentary ego—barely more than a mountain wildflower's instinct for survival.
A true sense of self emerged only moments ago.
"Hng! Th-this!! Haaaang!"
Exposed anew to demonic energy—similar to death magic yet distinct, utterly opposed to holy power—the frail spirit in the diminutive blade fully awoke.
Pussy... ah... gimme.
Pussy... ah... gimme.
Thus, the hero's sword gained its faint ego, mumbling unintelligible words even to itself.
"...What the hell is this now?"
The hand of the man it recognized as its master gripped the hilt, and the sword began projecting its desires toward him.