The Villainess Whom I Had Served for 13 Years Has Fallen

A droplet of blood formed at the tip of my sword.

A red line traced down the ironclad fortress that no one—other than Yuria—had ever been able to wound, and it began to drip blood.

-Tudududuk…

As I sliced through Olaf’s arm, I looked him in the face and smiled.

‘It hit.’

I had finally closed the seemingly insurmountable gap between us.

Was it because the matchup was favorable?

Or was it because I had gotten stronger?

Whatever the case, it felt deeply satisfying to stand on equal footing with an opponent I wouldn’t even have dared to look in the eye a year ago.

I calmly spoke as I watched Olaf look down at the severed part of his body on the floor.

“Where’s the God you were so fond of calling upon?”

“…”

“Why don’t you try crying out to Him again?”

“What did you do to my body?”

“You can ask your God that too.”

His right arm, severed along with its white cloth.

The dripping blood.

Even for someone like Olaf, who had seen countless battles, this wound felt strangely different.

‘It… isn’t healing?’

His body, which should have been able to regenerate from any injury—blessed by God with immortality—was now refusing to heal, as if forsaken by divine grace.

It felt like something fundamental had been severed.

As a chilling sense of dread clawed up Olaf’s spine, he dipped his head and muttered to himself.

“This… shouldn’t be happening.”

“…”

“The only one who could defy God’s grace is a heretic. Is it because my faith was lacking?”

Shaking his head and speaking to himself, Olaf repeated in disbelief, “I… can’t regenerate?”

Upon hearing this, I smirked.

“Maybe you should pray a little harder.”

In a calm voice, Olaf replied.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, heretic.”

“…”

“God will pass judgment upon you.”

“Oh, God…”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his nonsense. I found it amusing that the God he sought was granting him no mercy.

Thinking back to the past described in the novel, I sneered mockingly.

“So why is it that the God you so desperately seek won’t deliver you?”

“Don’t you dare blaspheme God. He has always answered my prayers and fulfilled…”

“Then why didn’t He answer your daughter’s prayers?”

The single mention of that word made Olaf freeze up, his entire body going cold.

Daughter.

It was a sensitive topic, one that shouldn’t have been touched.

But I had no choice—I had to use every available weapon. His mental defenses had to be shattered.

No doubt, he had tormented others in his time. So why shouldn’t I do the same?

I laughed derisively.

“Pfft… Have you ever thought about how ridiculous it is? How God answered your prayers, but not the prayers of the daughter you loved so much?”

Having read the novel, I was well aware of Olaf’s past. I knew how selfish and pathetic his reasons were for turning to the heretics.

He was the king of the underworld.

And also a father who had lost his daughter at a young age.

Mentioning his daughter was an unspoken taboo—his reverse scale.

Seeing Olaf glaring at me with murderous intent, I shrugged and said.

“What exactly is your great God doing…?”

“Shut up.”

“Is it because she wasn’t human that He failed to answer her prayers?”

I sneered while looking out the window at the monster howling in the distance.

-Kyaaaeeeek!

“Your God must be a racist then.”

“I’ll tear you apart this instant.”

“Go ahead and try.”

I gripped my sword and waited patiently as Olaf approached me.

I was waiting for the moment I could deliver a critical blow before he fully adapted to me as his opponent.

A black haze, thick with dark magic, cloaked Olaf’s axe as he drew closer.

His imposing presence, his overwhelming aura, proved that the title of Apostle wasn’t merely about power—it was demonstrated in his menacing approach.

Slowly, I inhaled, surrendering myself to the gentle flow of the wind. With my eyes closed, I muttered softly.

“Beas…”

No, the name of the technique didn’t matter. Even I thought the names were lame. I chuckled to myself and began gathering strength from deep within, starting from my dantian.

I sheathed my sword.

This was a technique where speed and power were condensed in a single, fluid moment.

‘Iai.’

Olaf’s eyes trembled as he saw my sword arching toward him in a wide curve. What he had once thought of as little more than a toothpick now carried the very real possibility of slashing through his throat.

-Step.

He took a step back, showing his fear of the sword. But it was too late. My blade was already at his chin, cutting through his flesh.

With a soft ‘swick,’ I felt the cold sensation of my blade slicing skin.

Though the cut wasn’t as deep as my initial strike, it was clear this attack had not merely been a strike through empty air.

“You bastard!”

With his body widely slashed open, Olaf screamed out the name of the unresponsive God as he grabbed an axe from the ground.

“Answer my prayers!!!!”

“God is dead.”

“Shut up!”

I deflected Olaf’s sloppy axe swing, certain of one thing now.

I’m going to win.

Olaf’s ability is reflection.

His skill reflects all incoming damage back to the attacker.

Even Michail’s attacks.

Even Ruin’s attacks.

He was like an impregnable fortress, a giant wall that could absorb and retaliate against all assaults. He wasn’t an easy opponent by any means. In fact, he was strong enough to fight on par with Rowen.

But there was one thing.

-Tirbing severs all blessings upon the target.

The scales of this battle had tipped dramatically in my favor, and Olaf was beginning to feel the weight of that shift.

In the novel, the only one who could inflict damage on Olaf was Yuria, using her ‘Divine Power.’ But Tirbing, even more so, relentlessly attacked Olaf’s fundamental weakness, snaking through the cracks and cutting off his lifeline.

No matter how powerful the magic, no matter what black spells he commanded, if I severed the source of his power, it would be worthless.

Olaf’s reflection ability alone couldn’t stop me. After all, my powers weren’t based on Divine Power. All Tirbing could do was cap Olaf’s monstrous healing ability, preventing him from regeneration. That was the best it could offer.

Gritting my teeth through the intense pain in my shoulder and arm, I continued swinging my sword. When it came to regeneration, I was no slouch myself.

-Limits push your ‘Regeneration Lv. 4’ to its threshold.

-Limits push the bounds of ‘Healing Touch.’

My sword darted forward once more, this time aiming for Olaf’s chest. I held my breath, channeling everything into this one blow, closing the distance on the disoriented Olaf.

“God…”

As my sword drew closer, Olaf thought to himself.

Is this man some sort of monster who can’t feel pain?

Though he was wounded just as I was, he gritted his teeth and kept swinging his sword. His relentless determination terrified Olaf more than any lightning strike.

He needed to escape this spiral of destruction. The current flow of battle was dragging him into a position of overwhelming disadvantage.

Gripping the hilt of an axe, Olaf began to consider his options.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea to just burn everything to the ground.

Calmly, Olaf sorted his thoughts.

Fine. I admit it.

This man was far more dangerous than I anticipated. I had been careless, fooled by the forked-tongued words of a serpent, despite knowing better.

I shouldn’t have allowed myself to show such disgrace as an Apostle. The sight of the fallen bodies of his followers, lying cold on the ground, even caused Olaf to wipe away tears in regret.

“Lord.”

Olaf lowered his head and stoically received Ricardo’s flurry of attacks, bearing them as a shepherd would the rebellious tantrums of a lost lamb.

“Lord…”

Offering prayers to God, Olaf silently endured Ricardo’s assault.

And then,

He raised his hands to the sky to offer his prayer unto God once more.

“Angel, come to me.”

The moment Olaf’s prayer ended, the creature outside—grappling with the thunderstorm—finally moved. Its writhing body lurched, and its gigantic jaws opened wide, aimed straight at the inn.

I gritted my teeth as I saw the black hand stretching forth from the mouth of the so-called angel.

“Damn it.”

-Kwahga-ga-ga-ga-gang!!

Olaf’s savior had arrived to rescue him from the losing battle.

The angel, which had spat out a black hand shaped like a baby’s, wrapped its arms protectively around Olaf, completely uninterested in the rampaging storm.

“Daddy… Daddy…”

Despite its machine-like, eerie voice, the angel cradled Olaf gently.

“Daddy… Daddy…”

I clenched my teeth.

‘This shouldn’t be happening.’

I couldn’t let Phase 2 unfold.

Because if we reached that stage, emotional manipulation wouldn’t work anymore.

As Olaf was swallowed up by the angel’s gaping maw, I swung my sword and cursed.

“Shit.”

And Olaf… was grinning.

*

I swung my sword all night long.

Not with the intent of winning against him.

But purely to survive.

Desperately, I kept my blade in motion.

And finally…

[Q. A Name That Can No Longer Be Called.]

1. Rescue Yuria’s father, ‘James.’ (1/1)

2. Survive the Apostle of Mercy, ‘Olaf.’ (1/1)

[You have completed the quest.]

Dawn broke.

*

As the sun rose and the battle that had lasted all night came to an end, Olivia stared blankly down at the ruins of the inn.

“Ricardo…?”

Ricardo was lying there, bleeding, gasping weakly for breath.

His blood-soaked hand trembled as he forced a smile, speaking to Olivia.

“You shouldn’t… be here, my lady.”

“…”

“I think… I might be able to win now…”

-Crunch.

From behind Olivia, the sound of debris being cleared signaled the appearance of Olaf. He had shed his elderly form and now stood as a young, vigorous man, his newly formed body pristine. He looked down upon Olivia with cold eyes.

“Do you believe in God, young girl?”

Olivia, her expression vacant, stared at Olaf and whispered,

“Is it because of him?”

“My lady.”

“Is Ricardo hurt because of him?”

Darkness began to gather in Olivia’s eyes. Cold, deep darkness, focused entirely on one person, spreading like a shadow.

Olivia glared icily at Olaf and spoke with a frigid voice.

“Die.”

A vast shadow in the sky obscured the early morning sun.

End of Chapter.