Chapter 355
Chapter 355. The Hidden Cloak and Archenemy
“Orraaaaaah!!”
“I’ll take you down, you punk!!”
“What’s a hero even worth?!”
While spewing foul insults, the thugs charged towards Hero Alexander.
It was a reckless act that had crossed into suicidal territory, but there was little choice in the matter.
Why, you ask?
First off, just being a lowly mafia lackey meant they were no decent humans. They had hardly stepped outside the city. Naturally, no ship owner would hire thugs like these as sailors. Hence, they were ignorant of the world, lacking both education and insight.
And because they never left the town, they wouldn’t feel the dread of the aquatic beasts firsthand. To add, being far from the front lines meant the threat of dark forces was minimal.
In short, they had never witnessed a hero or priest in battle.
The Holy Church is the protector of humanity, fighting against external enemies. But within the castle walls, the image of healers providing miraculous cures at inflated prices (from the thugs’ perspective) prevailed, and of course, they were never exposed to the church’s extraordinary aggression.
After all, these thugs were basically humans.
Unless they were serial killers or lake pirates, they had no chance to directly experience the church’s insane hostility. Law enforcement of minor crimes wasn’t under the church’s purview, so their attitude towards mobs wasn’t as harsh as it was towards the guards.
Moreover, unlike the soldiers or military, thugs had never experienced the support of holy attributes, making them oblivious to its gratitude or usefulness. In the peaceful allied zone, heroes would charge out at the first sign of beast activity, while priests would come to heal or lecture pompously.
In other words,
The thugs were oblivious to the “violence” of heroes.
They didn’t know the seriousness of elite human fighters.
Not to mention, the hellacious combatants resurrected from the depths of despair—!
“Huh?”
As the thugs brandished wooden swords, claws, and nearly useless rusted swords, Hero Alexander tilted his head.
“—You think you can toy with me, huh?”
The air suddenly grew heavy.
In the blink of an eye, the Holy Sword sang. The viciously gleaming blade sparked as it cut through the thugs’ shabby weapons.
Clang! Clang! The sounds of shattered blades and claws echoed across the gambling hall’s tiled floor.
“W-what…”
“Eh…”
With nothing but the handles left in hand, the thugs stared wide-eyed.
At that moment—
“[Weaklings, get lost!!]”
A roar imbued with potent magic reverberated.
Those with weak spirits shrank back, while others appeared drenched in cold water, shaken by the surrounding fury.
“I don’t care about your territory or your gambling…!!”
An ominous voice echoed as if it came from the depths of the earth.
“Don’t get in my way. My aim is to obliterate the dark forces. Everything else is irrelevant.”
With glimmering brown eyes, he glared at the thugs.
“My business is solely with the Night Elf…!”
Those eyes burned with a rage akin to molten lava—concealing a madness that made one’s hair stand on end.
Yes, it was the first time for the thugs.
A moment witnessing a facet of the Holy Church, its true essence—
Unfortunately, for them, it was among the most formidable in human history.
“If you obstruct my path any further, I will consider you enemies as well.”
Hero Alexander crushed the remaining wooden weapons beneath his feet, pointing the Holy Sword at them.
“I ask again. Where is the dealer, Gordon?”
The thugs—didn’t answer. No, they couldn’t answer.
Like sheep in the gaze of a dragon, their bodies stiffened, unable to move—
“If you won’t answer, I’ll raze this place to the ground—”
“Boss! Over here!!”
“Huh?”
From the back of the hall, one of the punks dragged someone along.
It was a middle-aged man with a grim face. Amidst the unsavory thugs, he wore neat and simple clothes, exuding an air of a trained fighter.
At his waist hung a splendid sword.
Such a fine piece was ill-suited for a rundown gambling establishment—!
“…What the hell are you?”
The hero eyed him suspiciously.
“Hehe, the one you’re looking for is the bodyguard Sword Saint!”
The punk exclaimed proudly, saliva flying.
“Huh? Bodyguard?”
The hero’s anger momentarily fled, replaced by a serious expression.
“…Indeed. I have no desire to clash with the Holy Church, but as a hired sword, I have no choice.”
The “Sword Saint” uncrossed his arms, smoothly drawing his sword.
With a fluid motion—
The blade glinted brilliantly, and it lived up to its reputation.
“And furthermore—I can see you’re quite the skilled fighter. I would like to have a duel.”
“Save it for later; I need to deal with the Night Elf first.”
“Boss! Do your thing, please!!”
“Hmph… It can’t be helped.”
The “Sword Saint” hesitated briefly but tightened his grip on the sword.
“???”
Hero Alexander stood, utterly confused.
“There’s talk of dark forces here; do you get it?”
“No quarter allowed here!”
He lunged forward.
“Secret Technique: Flame Wolf Fang Sword!!”
The gambling hall lit up brightly.
The Sword Saint’s blade sparkled, unleashing crimson flames.
It took the shape of a wolf, baring fiery fangs as it lunged at the hero—!
“Are you kidding me? That’s just fire magic!”
With one hand, he swatted it away.
“Huh?”
This was the hero after all. He had anticipated that his attacks might be blocked or avoided.
However, being obliterated in an instant like blowing out a candle was wholly unexpected.
While the dumbfounded Sword Saint could only gawk, the hero, enveloped in a faint crimson glow—thanks to the “magic items” made of High Elf leather hidden beneath his clothing—approached without a change in expression.
“Ugh!”
The Holy Sword came crashing down without holding back, barely parried by the Sword Saint’s weapon.
A sharp shock struck both hands, and he widened his eyes. If his grip had been weak, that strike would have knocked his sword away…!
“Hunf!”
But no second chances. The hero swung the Holy Sword down once more, and the Sword Saint, trying to react calmly,—
At the moment their blades collided, the presence of the hero swelled immensely.
Crushing.
The exceptional skill focused the magic into the blade, shattering the Sword Saint’s sword like glass.
“W-what…?”
Before he could even process his shock, Hero Alexander—
Grabbed the Sword Saint by his collar with his left hand.
He then delivered a punch, bearing the grip of the Holy Sword, right into his face.
Bam! The dull sound of bone meeting flesh rang out.
“Guh!”
Bam! Pow! Whack!
“Ahh! N-no! Stop! Please!”
The final kick slammed into his stomach, releasing the grip on his collar.
The “Sword Saint” flew like a ball, crashing against the wall.
“Ugggh, ugh…!”
His face twisted, blood gushing from his nose as he groaned, spitting out a mix of drool and broken teeth—no, fake Sword Saint.
Hero Alexander approached, gripping him by the nape and forcefully pulled him back up.
“…A Sword Saint is humanity’s hope.”
Bumping their foreheads together, he spun his words like a curse.
“A blade that strikes down those who bring harm to humanity, the pinnacle of martial prowess loved by the laws of nature. The guiding star for the powerless. That is the ‘Sword Saint’…!!”
His voice was as chilling as ice, yet it brimmed with the fury of raging fire.
“You, a pathetic little magician, do not have the right to bear such a title…!”
The fake Sword Saint could not respond. In fact, he struggled to breathe. The hero’s fingers sunk into his throat, screaming against his cervical spine.
“If you defile the name of the Sword Saint again, I’ll cut off your arms and feed them to the fish.”
Gasping for air, the fake Sword Saint nodded desperately. If he remained silent, he might just be killed…!
“…………”
Without a word, Hero Alexander tossed the fake Sword Saint aside—his sheer force made him bounce across the floor like a ball—and scanned the area.
The thugs, overwhelmed by his fierce gaze, instinctively stepped back, but in reality, it wasn’t an intimidation tactic; he was merely checking for any other “enemies.”
With the Holy Sword in one hand, Hero Alexander strode toward the nearest door.
“[Let there be light!]”
With a swift kick, he shattered the door while unleashing silvery light.
From inside came the scream of “Uwaaaaah!”—it wasn’t the shriek of dark forces scorched by holy attributes, but merely a terrified general patron who had been startled half to death.
Having confirmed that, the hero headed for the next door.
“[Let there be light!][Let there be light!][Let there be light!]”
Kicking down doors. Ripping door handles off. Blowing frames apart.
At times, he’d drag a cupboard down or pry up floorboards with the Holy Sword—of course, while bathing everything in holy luminescence—what was he doing? Likely checking for hidden doors or corridors—!
“[Let there be light!][Let there be light!][Let there be light!]”
Diligently, he continued his house search, physically eliminating every obstacle with the Holy Sword.
The thugs, watching in a daze, began to realize the gravity of the situation.
This hero… was entirely serious…
He truly intended to wipe this place clean…!!
“W-wait! I understand! It’s over here!!”
Realizing this was no joke and that they might genuinely be annihilated, the mid-tier mafioso reluctantly started leading Hero Alexander toward the back of the gambling hall—
