Page 336 of The Villainess Whom I Had Served for 13 Years Has Fallen

The elf’s green eyes began to cloud with madness.

"Μη με κο?τα με βρ?μικο? ???. (Don’t look at me with those filthy eyes.)"

"Μη με κο?τα με ?σχημο? και αηδιαστικ?? ???. (Don’t look at me with those ugly and disgusting eyes.)"

A burning glare full of hatred was directed at Lowen and Yuria.

Though they didn’t understand the elf's language, Lowen and Yuria could tell from the venom in her eyes that her feelings were purely negative.

It was clear as day—she hated humans.

“...This is bad.”

As ominous magic began to coil around the space, Lowen clicked his tongue and started to create some distance.

The abilities of an Apostle were unpredictable. Many powerful warriors had met their end at the hands of Apostles due to their unpredictable and aberrant powers. The power of the Apostle of Patience could alter anything visible as he pleased. The one wielding an axe possessed immense regenerative abilities and monstrous strength—Lowen had once crossed blades with him by chance ten years ago.

Though it was said that the axe-wielding Apostle had perished, his might was undeniable.

So, it followed that this elf, another Apostle, likely wielded terrifying power as well.

What kind of ability could she possibly have?

Lowen sharpened his senses, carefully observing the flow of the elf’s magic. She could launch invisible attacks.

He needed to focus harder. He had to react even more sensitively if he hoped to survive this battle...!

Lowen’s mouth closed as he noticed a strange object hovering over the Apostle’s head.

“What is... that?”

Above the elf’s head floated an ominous device, studded with sharp spikes and exuding an aura that made his skin crawl just to look at it.

Yes.

It was a tool designed for causing suffering.

“An Iron Maiden...”

The Apostle of Compassion muttered softly, her eyes trembling as she looked at Lowen and Yuria.

"Εγ? θα προστατε?σω ????. (I will protect myself.)"

With her chilling words, massive chains began to unfurl from the Iron Maiden.

Clink, clink, clink...

In a cold voice, the elf said, “Don’t look at me.”

Clink, clink, clink...!

“With those filthy eyes...”

At that moment.

The silent hallway of the temple echoed with the sound of footsteps.

Tap. Tap.

"..."

Not a word was exchanged. The tension in the air was palpable, filling the corridor with a silence that felt like it could burst at any moment. The two figures walked in silence, eyes fixed forward.

Tap. Tap.

The two walking were the Apostles of Temperance and Patience. They were working together to locate the Holy Sword.

Temperance sought the sword to offer it to the cult, while Ellicia wanted it as an offering for the Saint who had saved her.

Their goals may have been similar, but their intentions diverged, creating a cold tension as they walked.

Unable to bear the icy silence, the Apostle of Temperance glanced back at Ellicia, who was following him.

“Hey, Apostle of Patience.”

"..."

“Are you satisfied with your life among the cultists?”

Tap...

Ellicia did not respond and continued to follow in silence. Temperance let out a dry chuckle and shook his head at her cold demeanor.

“A stoic woman.”

"..."

“Playing it tough, huh? You ought ? Nоvеl?g?t ? (Official version) to be sucking up to me. Thinking about the future and all. Don’t you agree, Patience?”

"..."

The Apostle of Temperance scowled at her continued silence.

“Hey. Patience.”

“Focus on the task at hand, Temperance.”

"..."

“Acting like a child doesn’t befit you, does it? What would His Holiness say?”

"...Ha. You must have a death wish.”

“If that’s the divine will, so be it.”

Squeeze.

The Apostle of Temperance clenched the watch in his pocket, his eyelid twitching. He wondered how much she knew.

She’d always been cold, especially towards him and his brother. No matter how he tried to manipulate her life, she was unyielding.

But today, something was different.

It felt as though she was no longer afraid of him. As though she might slice his throat the moment she got the chance.

Feeling an unusual sense of dread, he threw her a sharp look.

“Patience.”

"..."

“What color do you see in my emotions right now?”

“You should know better than I.”

“I’m curious, that’s all.”

Ellicia glanced at him with a blank expression.

“Yellow.”

“Yellow, huh...”

“It symbolizes trust. A warm, trusting color.”

“Hm...”

The Apostle of Temperance nodded with a sly smile. “Ah, just a false alarm, then,” he thought, relieved. It was merely the anxiety caused by the uncertainty of the situation.

He then asked about the color of her emotions.

“What about you?”

"..."

“Is it yellow, like mine?”

Squeeze.

Ellicia gritted her teeth, trying to suppress her rage as she saw his arrogant gaze.

The color she saw every time she looked in the mirror was...

“Purple.”

The color of despair, obscuring all sight.

Her emotions surged at his question. The desire to snap his neck surged like a storm within her.

But...

“...We’re getting close.”

She held back, waiting for the right moment to harvest the fruits of vengeance.

Hold on....Even if you want to kill him now, hold back. You know that Temperance’s abilities are a bad match for yours....The opportunity comes when he seizes the Holy Sword. Until then, wait.My Saint.Yes.Even though I’d like to tear him apart now, must I hold back?Ellicia.Yes.Do you know when a person feels the most despair?...When happiness arrives.

At that moment, the Apostle of Temperance took a step into the light-filled room. A dazzlingly bright, pure white space unfolded before him, with light so radiant that it was almost blinding.

An overwhelming sense of divine power.

The Apostle of Temperance began to smile slightly as he looked upon it.

“So this is the Holy Sword.”

"..."

“Not an easy thing to get a glimpse of.”

"..."

In the center of the vast, luminous space stood a magnificent sword. Anyone would recognize it as the Holy Sword—a dazzling blade with a white blade and a golden hilt, adorned with a brilliant red gemstone in the center.

Without hesitation, the Apostle of Temperance stepped forward toward the Holy Sword.

And then...

Pause.

He glanced at Ellicia with a small smile.

“Patience.”

"..."

“I’ll let you have this honor.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just as I said. Draw the sword, Patience.”

"..."

“The scriptures say that only the worthy can wield it. You were a devout servant once. Surely, you can wield it.”

“I'm someone who has forsaken the gods.”

“You once believed in a false god. So take it.”

The Apostle’s gaze grew icy.

“Why hesitate?”

"..."

“If you draw this sword, you’ll get back your son’s keepsake. You’ll gain the freedom you desire. So why are you hesitating?”

"..."

The Apostle let out a weak laugh.

“If you want, I could bring your child back as an undead. It would be a mindless corpse, of course.”

"..."

“Does that idea not amuse you?”

"..."

The Apostle shot her a twisted smile.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

"..."

“Draw it.”

"..."

“I said, draw it.”

Ellicia closed her eyes. At the same time, she saw the turbulent emotions churning within him.

Blue. A deep, dark blue.

The color of mistrust and corruption began to seep into her vision.

“Seems like you’re no longer afraid.”

With a short sigh, the Apostle of Temperance slowly moved toward the Holy Sword.

“This was your last chance, Patience. Such a pity.”

The Apostle of Temperance spoke softly as he approached the sword.

“There’s a passage in ancient texts,” he said.

"..."

“If one without worth wields the Holy Sword, they will suffer greatly.”

"..."

“Yet if they persist with malice and pride, the evil spirit within the sword will awaken.”

"..."

“This is destruction.”

He stared directly at Ellicia.

“I understand your intent.”

"..."

“You’re not afraid of death, are you?”

"..."

“I’ve thought about it. Why you act so confidently.”

"..."

The space began to distort, twisting around the Apostle of Temperance.

Eerily. Disturbingly.

He looked straight at Ellicia, beginning to dance with a cold grace.

“Have you accepted death?”

"..."

“You’d rather die than live as a slave?”

Ellicia smiled faintly, muttering softly.

“Arrogant and haughty.”

"..."

Pause.

“A servant who loves himself more than any god.”

“That’s an interesting thing to say.”

“Who do you love most?”

"...Ha."

The Apostle took out his watch from his pocket.

"..."

“Are you scared?”

"..."

“After provoking me, you’re going to take responsibility, right?”

"..."

“You can just raise a new Apostle.”

"..."

“Someone with even deeper hatred, just like you.”

Ellicia spoke in a cold voice.

“Go ahead.”

Tremble.

“Let’s see what you can do.”

As the Apostle’s eyes trembled and Ellicia’s cold voice filled the space, the corridor they walked down echoed with a single voice.

“Is this the Holy Sword?”

A smile broke out on Ellicia’s face, while the Apostle of Temperance was filled with a sense of dread.

As he hastily tried to distance himself from the Holy Sword—

Tremble.

The objects around them began to shift and change.

Yes.

“Patience.”

The Apostle of Patience’s ability.

Ellicia was guiding the Apostle of Temperance’s hand toward the Holy Sword, taking advantage of his distraction at Ricardo’s appearance.

Her eyes were filled with hatred, consumed by murderous intent.

Ellicia, smiling madly, spoke.

“Ah... ah... How long have I waited for this moment?”

“Do you want to die, Patience...!”

“Oh, poor man.”

As he struggled against her restraints, the Apostle dropped his watch, his pupils dilating with fear. Ellicia gazed at the fallen watch with a hollow smile.

Bending down, she picked up the watch, a cruel smile twisting her lips as she began to tighten her grip.

Crack...!

“What do you think you’re doing...!”

Crash!!!

The Apostle’s words were cut short.

“Such stupidity.”

"..."

“If I’d known it would be this easy to take, I might have resisted sooner.”

"..."

A mad smile crossed Ellicia’s face as she began to twist the space around them.

The Apostle of Temperance, his hands shaking, grabbed the Holy Sword. Ellicia, with a smile filled with joy, urged him.

“Take it.”

She was about to lead him into hell.