To Hell with Being a Saint, I’m a Doctor

Chapter 116: Unraveling The Dark Conspiracy (3)

Fortunately, people were evacuating en masse across the Academy.

After all, the order came from the saint.

Unless someone was incredibly defiant, no one would linger after such a decree.

People hurried to pack their belongings, secure their shops, and leave the Academy.

“We don’t know when the magic circle will activate.”

This thought spurred Ray into action.

He intended to go and neutralize the magic circle.

He couldn’t pinpoint the boundary of the magic circle because it was too distant.

Had it been closer, Ray, with his heightened sensitivity to mana, would have detected it.

He had already asked Iriel to organize relief supplies and issue an emergency directive.

Ray turned to Aira and said,josei

“Aira, could you protect the evacuating people from the monsters?”

Asking an elf like her to defend humans was not typical in their world.

Different races, such as elves and humans, seldom saw themselves as ‘protectors’ of one another.

This was especially true since humans often pillaged elf villages and enslaved their captives.

Consequently, elves usually harbored more resentment towards humans than dwarves.

Such a request might have been refused by her.

However, they were in dire need of assistance at the moment.

The city guards, adept at handling petty thieves, were ill-equipped for the colossal monsters.

Aira responded with a nod to Ray’s plea.

“If it’s your request, I cannot say no.”

She pivoted with the swiftness of the wind and vanished from view.

Her speed was astonishing; without employing magic, her innate physical agility was almost unfairly fast.

With her overseeing their protection, he felt more at ease about the evacuees’ safety.

Ray also pivoted.

He had to make his way to the Academy’s outskirts.

He was deeply curious about the regional guards’ actions, or lack thereof, that permitted the magic circle’s completion.

Still, he didn’t truly believe they had been negligent in their duties.

A magic circle of this scale would have taken years to complete.

It seemed unlikely they had been idly doing nothing all this time.

Ray moved as if melting into the air.

His speed was so great that his clothes would have torn had they not been protected by mana.

The situation was that urgent, and the fate of the Holy Kingdom hung in the balance.

Without a clear destination, he had no choice but to run blindly.

Thus, Ray sped toward the outskirts.

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Iriel, after explaining the situation to the city guards and the security forces who had emerged due to the monsters breaching the safe zone, quickly moved toward Silien.

The Academy area could be divided into northern and southern parts. The southern part was closer to Gehel for evacuation, while the northern part offered a quicker route to Silien.

Distance-wise, that made sense, but while the southern area was close to Gehel for fast evacuation, the northern area and Silien were separated by a mountain range, making it quite a distance.

In the event of an attack by either a second force, like monsters, or a third party, which side would be more dangerous?

It was obvious that the refugees heading to Silien would be in far more danger than those bound for Gehel.

That’s why Iriel’s steps were particularly quick.

‘Without prepared supplies, a sudden increase in people will only cause chaos…!’

Her speed, as she crossed forests and leaped over trees, was terrifying.

Her unique method of movement, powered by her overwhelming divine power, skillfully avoided obstacles in her path.

Unlike Ray, she could activate divine power within her body.

Physically, she was superior to Ray.

The elasticity bursting from her long legs traveled efficiently through her muscles, maximizing her efficiency.

This allowed her to move farther than the divine power she expended.

At some point, Iriel realized she was being followed.

Five individuals.

Their powerful mana made her skin tingle.

She could outrun them, but doing so would leave the refugees heading to Silien vulnerable.

As a saint, she couldn’t stand by and watch her people get slaughtered.

Iriel quickly scanned her surroundings, checking for high and low areas.

She was assessing the terrain, which is crucial before any battle.

The fight is as much about information as it is about force—knowing the enemy and the terrain.

From the large aspects to the small ones, victory isn’t just about skill but also these factors.

When she stopped, the figures following her also halted.

They slowly revealed themselves.

“Wow, it’s really the saint?”

“…Don’t chatter in front of the enemy.”

“Hey, what does it matter? We’re going to die anyway, haha.”

“How disrespectful in front of such high-ranking individuals…”

There were three young men and two middle-aged men.

Only two of the youths were talking.

Iriel addressed them,

“I don’t recognize you. Knowing that I’m the saint and still acting this way… which kingdom are you from?”

“…….”

“I didn’t expect you to tell me.”

Despite her words, Iriel was quite tense.

The aura emanating from her opponents was dangerous, something only rulers possessed.

The three youths were of no concern to her.

If she wished, she could easily turn two of them into mincemeat.

But the problem lay with the middle-aged men.

Though silent, the mana they emitted was very similar to Zik’s.

This meant that at least two of them were Swordmasters.

Facing one Swordmaster was one thing, but two was a challenge even for her.

The three young men drew their swords.

“I’d rather fight the saint than the saintess… Tsk.”

Iriel snorted at the light-hearted comment from one of the youths.

To think he could stand against him, who was just a mana user?

Against a being who couldn’t be wounded by necromancers or even the bone dragon?

A mere fledgling who might barely manage a draw against a recent Academy graduate!

Noticing her disdain, one of the youths looked at Iriel and grinned.

“Don’t underestimate me, okay? I’ve killed several healers who looked down on me.”

Saying this, the three youths began to encircle her.

It seemed they were preparing for a sword formation.

Iriel, concerned about the middle-aged men, couldn’t act rashly and had to wait until the sword formation began.

As she stepped into the formation of the three, a subtle pressure began to bear down on her.

The power of each individual in the formation seemed to be maximized.

Blocking the first attack only meant that the next would be stronger.

They were sharing mana and incorporating it into the formation, much like a magic circle.

The youths began their attack on Iriel.

Aiming for her throat, she deftly tilted her head to dodge the incoming sword.

Immediately following was a slash aimed at the cartilage of her wrist.

She easily tilted her hand to avoid it.

The young men’s swords, now beginning to resonate with stronger mana, gleamed menacingly.

Emboldened, they zealously attacked Iriel.

To her, this was an absurd situation.

The sword formation was decent, but that was all.

Crude swordsmanship combined with a clumsy joint attack.

Overconfidence bordering on arrogance in their sloppy Sword Aura.

Nothing was worth considering as a threat.

Yellow-hued divine power gathered in her hand.

With a single swing, she forced two of the youths back, spitting blood.

Just that one attack dismantled the sword formation.

What kind of sword formation was this? To abandon it over a mere scratch was absurd.

Iriel scoffed at their ridiculous behavior.

“I’ll finish you off quickly, don’t worry. Just lie down and count the stars; it’ll be over soon.”

Such words were unbecoming of a saint.

However, Iriel wasn’t the kind of saint who would spare those who threatened her country and her life.

In fact, she could become quite malevolent if the harm outweighed the good.

Her divine power enveloped them in an instant.

Their chances of blocking her precise strikes, aimed only at vital points, were slim to none.

Unlike in the initial exchange, one of the middle-aged men intervened, his face pallid.

Thud—

The sound of their swords and hands colliding was unbelievably dull.

The middle-aged swordmaster seemed to have taken a step back after losing the exchange.

But Iriel’s demeanor remained unchanged.

This exchange had clearly determined who held the upper hand.

Even Zik couldn’t match Iriel in a one-on-one battle.

It was unclear how skilled the swordmaster before her was, but she saw no reason to be overpowered by just one of them.

However, Iriel was startled for another reason.

‘Which kingdom would have two swordmasters…’

The youths were of no concern to her.

Her attention was solely on the two swordmasters.

Which nation would have such excess power that they could afford to use two swordmasters for an assassination when they could be part of the kingdom’s military strength?

‘Perhaps the Lecian Empire… but…’

The Lecian Empire had nothing to gain from eliminating a saint.

If they were found to have killed a saint, it would trigger a holy war. Without a way to defeat the saint, the Lecian Empire would lose the war.

The empire wasn’t foolish enough to deploy two swordmasters for a mission with only demerits.

Thus, no nation seemed capable of creating this situation.

It must be a third force, manipulating the rebellion, controlling monsters, and possessing necromancers.

Now knowing they also had swordmasters, Iriel began to fear this unnamed, hidden force.

Iriel shook her head.

‘Now’s not the time to ponder this.’

Even a momentary lapse could be fatal in a battle of such caliber.

In fights between those at the pinnacle, victory and defeat can hinge on a split-second gap. It’s a mental battle, a clash within consciousness.

The saying that battles are won or lost before they begin holds true only for those who have reached such extreme states.

Iriel and the middle-aged men stood motionless with their swords drawn, like statues.

Their auras clashed, swirling and colliding with fierce intensity.

The youths didn’t dare intervene.

Approaching meant risking being torn apart in the struggle for control.

An overwhelming sense of powerlessness and a natural murderous intent.

All these factors forbade their involvement.

Everyone has their own domain.

In the swordsmanship academy, this is technically referred to as the “Absolute Field.”

Why call it such a name when it is merely within the swing of a sword?

It’s because entering this field means certain death—it’s ‘inevitable.’

The distance a Swordmaster’s all-out strike can reach—a boundary where life can be extinguished in the blink of an eye.

That’s the Absolute Field.

My own distance, my own domain.

A line of life and death that others cannot cross, unique to myself.

Within this domain, one holds the power over the life and death of others.

Thus, it’s natural to fight to expand one’s domain before the battle begins.

Iriel’s Absolute Field is approximately seven meters.

However, the field of the Swordmasters in front of her measures only about five meters.

Is it a difference in skill? More accurately, it’s a difference in nature and divine power.

Realizing this, one of the middle-aged men stepped into Iriel’s domain.

But Iriel couldn’t immediately sever his ankle because the other middle-aged man followed suit, entering her domain as well.

She might manage to kill one, but the other would cost her life.

Good heavens!

To disregard one’s life even as a Swordmaster?

This tactic is befitting of lower-ranked soldiers, not them!