I Became a Childhood Friend With the Villainous Saintess

Chapter 82: The Guardian (1)

The preparations had not been made carelessly.

Count Eloran would want to settle this matter in secrecy, so an attack of some kind was inevitable.

That was why he had brought the trio from the Actania Gate—Galedin, Mary, and Hakon.

Each of them was a promising talent, considered top-tier even among the gate’s ranks. At the same time, they were some of the highest cards a baron could play.

So it wasn’t that they had let their guard down.

The only problem was that the attackers’ strength far exceeded their expectations.

The scorched ground reeked of burnt flesh.

Shaky, ragged breaths filled the air, a low growl reminiscent of a beast on the hunt.

The scene was nothing short of horrific.

The white fur, characteristic of a white tiger, had been stained completely red, making its original color unrecognizable.

The mighty battle hammer that had once swung with pride lay shattered on the ground.

Mary had blood trickling from her nose and mouth, a side effect of overusing her fire magic.

Even now, she seemed to be forcing herself to squeeze out more power—but a limit was called a limit for a reason.

Around them, several corpses lay scattered, brutally crushed.

Somewhere in that pile of bodies, Sir Malon was likely among them.

This was hell.

And from that hell, Baron Esquente stepped forward.

“Kehehe… That’s right. I was desperate to see you, Nelloa Esquente, the human I must kill.”

“……”

Everyone had told him to run. But he hadn’t.

Run?

Where exactly was he supposed to run?

Given that monster’s speed, it wouldn’t take more than a few strides for it to catch him.

He had no desire to prolong his life by a few measly minutes in a pathetic struggle.

More than anything, he had never learned how to abandon his people and flee.

“Hm? I heard you were a talkative human. But you’re strangely silent now. Are you scared? Your eyes don’t seem like it.”

“I don’t usually talk to demons.

You’re only the second one I’ve ever had a conversation with.”

“Oh? And who was the first?”

“If you get close enough to me, maybe I’ll tell you.”

“Hahaha! I like that.”

Baron Esquente enjoyed talking.

Even when others called him frivolous, he had never once held his tongue.

For him, conversation was as essential as the air he breathed.

Speaking with his loved ones had always brought him joy.

That was why he never indulged in idle chatter with those he loathed.

To him, communication was sacred.

It was not something he would share with just anyone.

Yet, at this moment, Baron Esquente was throwing away that very belief.

A bitter, unpleasant feeling churned in his chest, but it hardly mattered.

‘I’ve always been a shallow and trivial person. I can abandon my principles at any time.

They weren’t that valuable to begin with, so it doesn’t cost me much to discard them.’

He stared straight at the demon.

The one responsible for this disaster, despite all the precautions taken.

The very being who had thrown all his calculations into disarray now grinned menacingly.

It was a strange demon.

With his pale platinum hair and strikingly handsome features, his lean figure resembled that of a nobleman.

But his combat style was anything but refined—it was barbaric, crude, and straightforward.

Brute-force melee combat.

Swinging a greatsword with overwhelming physical strength.

That was all this demon relied on.

“Oh? Is that so? But why are you speaking now?

Trying to buy time?”

“Yeah. If I can gain an opening with my words, why wouldn’t I?”

“Kehe, fine. I’ll humor you for a little while.

It’s been a while since I met someone who could actually hold a conversation.”

Strangely enough, there wasn’t a single trace of mana emanating from the demon.

Whether human or demon, mana always left a trail.

Given enough time, it became undetectable to the senses—but advanced detection magic could still uncover it.

That was why Count Eloran had assumed the enemy wouldn’t bring a high-ranking demon along.

If a demon’s presence was discovered near Edelmarion, the emperor would fly into a rage.

Bringing a demon along for an attack was practically political suicide.

No one had anticipated such an irregularity.

“Honestly, I’m a little disappointed.

I heard there were interesting people in the north, but none of them have shown up.”

“You’d find stronger people in the capital.”

“Oh, that won’t do.

I want to have fun, not die.”

The demon shook his head in amusement.

Meanwhile, Baron Esquente carefully surveyed his surroundings.

Their two strongest wild cards weren’t here.

Galedin was completely incapacitated. His injuries weren’t the kind one could push through with sheer willpower.

Even if he forced himself to stand, it wouldn’t make much of a difference.

That left Mary as their best bet.

Once she recovered some of her energy, she might be able to land a meaningful blow.

Did she just need a little more time?

Fortunately, the demon seemed in no rush to finish things.

Baron Esquente turned his mind over the possibilities.

A demon of this level—one who stood out so dramatically—

There was no way their commander wouldn’t be aware of him.

It was time to broaden his perspective.

Now, he needed to consider not just the demons of the north, but those operating beyond it as well.

The most likely suspect was the West.

Just a few years ago, Demon King Eligor had launched an attack on the Grand Duchy of Eilencia from there.

As he recalled the names of the infamous demons from the western territories, a certain description matched.

“I’ve heard of you before. There’s a peculiar demon in the West—one who insists on fighting with pure brute force. I never expected to meet him like this.”

“Oh! Even humans know my name? Now that’s exciting!”

“Yeah. If I remember correctly… it was ‘Nezra.’”

“Correct! To be acknowledged by my enemy—I guess I really have been doing a good job.”

Nezra spread his arms wide, his face lighting up with genuine joy.

That expression of his, so utterly pleased, was unbearable.

Disgust churned in Baron Esquente’s stomach, making him want to retch.

And yet, the undeniable truth remained—Nezra held the advantage here.

Baron Esquente was a lord.

On the surface, the relationship between a lord and his people might seem like a rigid hierarchy, but at its core, it was a mutual contract.

The people paid taxes.

And in return, the lord protected them.

The soldiers at his side, Galedin, Malon—administratively, they were all his people.

That meant every single one of them was someone he was duty-bound to protect.

Just a little longer.

He just needed to buy a little more time.

“Clicking your tongue at me like that… You know, it’s not very polite to keep stalling. If you don’t keep me entertained with that clever tongue of yours, I’ll start thinking this wait wasn’t worth it.”

“…I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good. I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but wouldn’t it be nice if we both had some fun?”

Despite his words, Baron Esquente could sense it.

The demon was getting ready to wrap things up.

When the battle resumed, how long could he hold out?

Five minutes? Ten, if he was lucky?

He decided to be optimistic.

Then, Nezra frowned.

“This… isn’t good. I was going to give you a little more time, but no one told me reinforcements would be arriving this soon.”

Reinforcements?

Baron Esquente’s senses picked up nothing.

But whatever Nezra had detected—or whatever misunderstanding he had—didn’t matter.

An opportunity was still an opportunity.

The baron drew his sword.

“Lady Mary! I know you’re exhausted, but give me the biggest one you’ve got!”

“Just… die already…!”

A torrent of flames erupted, engulfing everything in sight.

Through the blaze, he caught a glimpse of Mary collapsing.

She was completely spent—unable to fight any longer.

But she had delivered a magnificent strike.

“My name is Nelloa Esquente!”

His raised arm swung downward, slamming into the ground.

And as if echoing that movement, a massive bolt of lightning tore through the clear sky, signaling the downpour of a storm of thunder.

“Lord of Esquente, Second Commander of the Northern Front!”

It went without saying—one did not become a commander of a garrisoned army without personal strength.

Especially not a commoner like him.

Baron Esquente called himself a guardian,

but in truth, the only talent he had ever been granted was destruction.

He was utterly incapable of deploying even the lowest-tier shield spell.

But in terms of sheer firepower, for brief moments, he could rival even Archmages.

There was no need to conserve mana.

A prolonged battle had never been in his plans.

He squeezed out every last drop of magic he had and unleashed it all.

Lightning. Fire. The wind itself howled like a hammer striking the earth.

Nezra was nowhere to be seen.

“Now this… is fun!”

From within the roaring explosion, Nezra burst forth.

A flying kick—fast.

Baron Esquente raised his sword to block, but the blade couldn’t withstand the force.

With a resounding impact, the baron was sent hurtling through the air.

It was just one hit. One hit.

Yet, blood gushed from his mouth.

“Khahak!”

“Yes! This is what a fight should be!

You need to struggle and claw like this for it to be fun!”

Three arrows flew in from the distance, piercing Nezra’s shoulder.

The moment they struck, they exploded—but the damned demon healed almost instantly.

And by firing those arrows, the archer had just given away their position.

Nezra grabbed a spear from the ground and hurled it.

A disturbance rippled through the trees above.

“Tch. I really thought I’d hit that one. Barely missed.”

“Damn it!”

The baron cursed.

It had been a long time since he last spat such words.

So long, in fact, that he couldn’t even remember the last time he had.

Bolts of lightning surged wildly, following his magic, crashing down upon Nezra like a raging storm.

It was pointless.

Powerful magic lacked speed, and fast magic lacked power.

His mana was draining rapidly—

And all he managed to accomplish was stealing a few seconds from Nezra.

Yet, Baron Esquente laughed.

Even as blood pooled in his mouth, even as the metallic taste coated his tongue—he laughed.

Because now, even he could feel it.

That overwhelming sense of dread, closing in at terrifying speed.

It was an odd way to put it, but—

it was the most reassuring feeling of dread he had ever experienced.

The joker card had arrived.

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