Page 338 of The Villainess Whom I Had Served for 13 Years Has Fallen

A fierce battle unfolded.

The clash between the one-armed Apostle of Temperance and Ellicia spread like a chilling storm inside the space where the Holy Sword lay dormant.

Ellicia distorted the space around her, expanding it vastly beyond what it had been before. She began to dismantle the walls, widening the area to make use of every available element.

Crrrack!

She infused the armor on display with her emotions, turning them into puppets that moved at her command.

"Bring me that man's head."

Temperance was not idle either. He summoned forth his black magic, expanding his rules, nullifying Ellicia’s magic as he launched spheres of pure energy.

Amusingly, neither of them moved a single step, yet the chaos they created resembled a natural disaster.

The only thing visible to me was the distinct line drawn between the blue magic of Ellicia and the black magic of Temperance, each marking their territory in this space.

Crackle...

On the surface, the battle between the Apostle of Temperance and Ellicia appeared evenly matched. When Ellicia distorted the space to launch an attack, Temperance used his rules to turn it into nothingness.

But...

"What pathetic tricks you try...!"

"..."

"Hahaha! Then why do you look so strained?"

"..."

"Stay calm, Temperance...!"

Ellicia mocked Temperance with a laugh.

Though the battle raged on with intensity, so much that it was difficult to tell who held the upper hand, Ellicia's smile never wavered. In contrast, sweat trickled down Temperance’s forehead.

Temperance, dropping beads of sweat to the ground, spoke in a steady voice.

"Don’t delude yourself, Patience. If I unleash my full power, you are nothing..."

"I could say the same."

Ellicia’s eyes gleamed blue as she began drawing deeper from her dark magic.

"I haven’t even started yet."

Hissss...

The space around them began to warp.

Ellicia’s magic tore the space apart, only for it to heal again and tear once more.

The once pristine white floor rippled like waves, forming bottomless pits beneath them, while massive spikes descended from the ceiling, as though the sky itself sought to pierce Temperance.

Temperance clicked his tongue.

“Tsk...”

He had never imagined that Ellicia’s magic would be this strong. She was a woman who had survived on her own, an Apostle without archbishops or followers.

It should have required a large workforce and complex rituals to replenish her dark magic. Why, then, was she not running out of power? Temperance couldn’t comprehend it.

Then, a hypothesis popped into his mind. A theory familiar to any dark magician—or even to the common person:

Dark magic differs from regular magic.Depending on the wielder’s desires, replenishing it could be as difficult as cutting through bone or as simple as breathing.

Recalling the image of Ellicia praying in that dark sanctuary, Temperance gritted his teeth. The reason Patience had continued to pray wasn’t madness—it was to strengthen her power.

A grin spread across Ellicia’s lips.

Temperance’s rules were starting to crumble. Rules that had never faltered before now shook. The very floor beneath Temperance’s feet writhed like slime exposed to fire.

“Don’t make me laugh!!!”

Boom!!!

Temperance’s face turned pale. # Nоvеlight # The thought of his unbreakable rules fracturing had never even crossed his mind until now.

The strongest shield. The shield he believed even the Empire’s Sword couldn’t break was now faltering, all because of a single woman. Temperance began to tremble.

Ellicia, watching him, sneered.

"You’re trembling."

"..."

"Your rules are shaking, Temperance."

"...Shut up, Patience."

"You’ll end up dead if you keep this up."

There were too many threats to handle at once.

He had to resist Patience’s mental domination, avoid physical attacks targeting his blind spots, and—

The man.

"..."

That man who silently observed—there was no telling when he might join the fight. The power emanating from him felt equal to, or perhaps even greater than, the Empire’s Sword. The unexpected appearance of such a powerful individual made Temperance grit his teeth, whispering to himself.

"I didn’t want to use this magic..."

Suddenly, the atmosphere around Temperance began to change. The magic circle that had covered the floor was now being absorbed into his body, while black, mist-like walls began to form around him.

Placing his hand on the black wall, Temperance muttered quietly.

"Regret this in hell, Patience."

The black wall encased Temperance’s body, like armor being forged onto him. As countless spells and rules enveloped him, a black suit of armor formed over his body.

When the black walls disappeared, Temperance stood in armor that defied the laws of the world, wielding a long, black blade in his hand.

Yes, a tachi.

A sword with an abnormally long blade, unsuitable for a typical swordsman. The black blade coiled like a serpent in Temperance’s hand, exuding a cold breeze.

Temperance, holding the sword in one hand, let out a faint sigh and spoke.

"No one has ever survived after seeing this armor."

"An honor then... I’ll be the first."

"You are arrogant, Patience."

“But you do realize that armor of yours drains your lifespan, right?”

“I know. I’m well aware...”

As the chilling air filled the space, Ellicia began turning the walls around them into a viscous liquid, reshaping the battlefield.

“How amusing... Watching a fly squirm...”

Rumble...

“This is fun.”

Ellicia looked over at me as she severed the space between us.

“Saint.”

"..."

“Leave this fight to me.”

Ellicia and Temperance began to disappear into a separate dimension as she cut off the space between us.

Watching them vanish into the distance, I let out a bitter laugh.

Temperance’s true armor...

It required two tachi. The fact that he only wielded one now meant that the advantage already lay with Ellicia.

I glanced at the Holy Sword still in Temperance’s severed hand and chuckled.

"Impressive."

The sight of the Holy Sword absorbing Temperance’s black magic made me laugh in disbelief. The sword seemed more like a cursed weapon than a holy one now.

The arm still clutching the sword hilt was rapidly drying out, like a mummy turning to dust.

“At this point, it’s not a Holy Sword—it’s a cursed sword.”

Before long, the arm shriveled into white dust and crumbled away. The Holy Sword remained, glowing with a radiant light, as if it had never been tainted by dark magic.

"..."

I turned to Mikhail with an awkward smile.

“So, what do you think?”

"...Sorry?"

“Do you think you can pull it out?”

"Ah..."

“One thing’s for sure...”

Whoooosh.

I looked at the sword, still vibrating with energy, and shook my head.

“I’m not going to be the one to pull it.”

I could feel it—an instinct telling me that the sword was rejecting me. If I even tried to approach it, I wouldn’t be permitted, let alone allowed to touch it.

The only person here who could draw the sword was Mikhail.

"...Gulp."

In the novel, Mikhail had definitely been able to draw the Holy Sword.

In the story, while Lowen and two Apostles faced off, Mikhail had been sent by Lowen to find the sword in a desperate rush.

"Don’t worry about us—find the Holy Sword."

"But—!"

"That’s an order. If we fail here without retrieving anything, it’ll be even worse."

"...Hold on just a bit longer."

In the novel, Mikhail found the sword and helped Lowen escape the temple safely.

The qualifications to wield the Holy Sword were simple.

A hero.

And someone with a pure heart.

Considering the sword’s nature, Mikhail was more than qualified. The only thing troubling me was the fact that I had become part of this journey, an unexpected variable.

"..."

That’s what worried me—the unknown influence of my presence.

Still...

“Would you like to try?”

The outcome hadn’t changed. It was worth the attempt.

Mikhail looked at me, nodded, and reached for the sword. As his hand neared the Holy Sword, I raised my eyebrow.

“You’re just going to grab it right away?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not scared? After seeing what happened to Temperance?”

“Yes.”

“...Excuse me?”

“You said I could pull it out, Ricardo.”

"..."

“Honestly, saying I’m not scared would be a lie, but still...”

Clench.

“You’re smarter than I am, Ricardo..."

"..."

"I trust my friend."

With that, Mikhail closed his eyes and grasped the Holy Sword. The moment his fingers touched the hilt, I could feel the magical energy harmonizing between Mikhail and the sword. It was as if they were meant to be one.

But then—

Crack.

“What...!”

The Holy Sword wasn’t as kind as we had hoped.

I could see it.

The sword, pure and righteous, had found a stain and was now writhing in rejection. The harmony was breaking, and I watched as Mikhail’s brow furrowed in pain.

"...!"

Alarmed, I called out to Mikhail, telling him to release the sword.

“Misa! Let go of the sword!”

"..."

“Misa...!”

Sweat dripped from Mikhail’s forehead, and it seemed as though he couldn’t hear my voice. Seeing him trembling, I clenched my teeth.

‘Where did this go wrong?’

Mikhail was meant to be the sword’s rightful wielder. Why was this happening?

Mikhail was a good person. Though the story had deviated, her heart and deeds proved she was worthy of the sword. There was no reason for the Holy Sword to reject her.

There had to be another reason.

A reason tied not to Mikhail or me, but to something external...

‘Ah...’

Of course.

Temperance’s dark magic.

An ancient text had a passage:“If one unworthy touches the Holy Sword, they will suffer greatly.”“If they endure the pain with malice and arrogance, the evil spirit sealed within the sword will awaken.”“This is destruction.”

Remembering Temperance’s warning, I grabbed the sword as well. Mikhail couldn’t bear the weight of Temperance’s magic alone.

The Holy Sword, which had likely been dormant for hundreds, if not thousands, of years, was calm and pure. But the moment it absorbed Temperance’s power, it rebelled. It was clear now.

The sword was in a state of overload, and Mikhail was forced to endure the remnants of Temperance’s magic.

In the worst-case scenario...

The “destruction” sealed within the sword, the spirit that craved more dark magic, could be awakening.

This was information not even found in the novel. I quickly grabbed the sword, squeezing tightly.

And then—

‘It’s not the sword?’

I realized it wasn’t the sword itself that was craving power but something beneath it.

A massive, explosive force was using the sword as a medium, hungering for more.

"..."

It was absorbing.

Something stronger than the dark magic within Temperance was using the Holy Sword as a vessel. While we were focused on the sword, something beneath us was resisting the Holy Sword’s restraint and thrashing about.

I had made a mistake.

A mistake in not accounting for this variable.

I could feel my energy draining. My consciousness blurred as my remaining magic was being pulled away.

I could feel it clearly now.

The sword and something else were in conflict.

Ssshh.Craaack...

My ears began to ring.

And then—

“Ah... this is bad.”

The temple began to darken.

The once pure white surroundings were fading, losing their light. Only the area around the Holy Sword remained bright, while the rest was swallowed by darkness.

This was dangerous. If I let go, Mikhail’s mind might collapse. Her magic circuits could shatter beyond recovery.

I had to think.

Think of a way to protect both the Holy Sword and Mikhail.

‘I’ve got it...’

“The Lady has an incredibly high affinity for dark magic. Honestly, I’m amazed the Saint was able to endure such power without being harmed.”“Why do you call her the Lady, Hans?”“From a dark magician’s perspective...”“Yes?”“The Lady surpasses any saint.”

[Releasing Dark Magic Resistance Lv. 5.]

I remembered the lingering dark magic inside me. Thinking back to the time when I had taken on the Lady’s dark magic, I released the power I had been suppressing.

As soon as the massive dark magic dissipated through the Holy Sword, the remnants of dark magic within me began to vanish completely.

Yes, dark magic.

As I released my resistance, the dark magic I had been holding back started to drain away.

The magic that had blocked my circuits was gone, leaving my body flowing with pure, untainted magic. It was almost overwhelming.

But I had to draw the sword.

I couldn’t let that thing take my magic.

We needed enough time for Mikhail to regain her consciousness and pull the sword out.

Right now, I couldn’t move, focusing all my strength on suppressing the being beneath us.

But I couldn’t rely on Mikhail alone to pull out the sword with a body that couldn’t even lift a finger.

As my thoughts raced...

"Stop that!"

A savior appeared.

“Don’t steal my spirit energy... huh?”

I looked up and saw Shuen, covered in charms and talismans, and smiled.

“Wow... perfect timing.”

Shuen stood there with a sheepish grin.

"Hehe!"