The Final Task of the Forsaken Saint: A Command to Marry the Barbarian Count - Chapter 11

After bidding farewell and thanking Mike, I stepped out of the dissection area and spotted Sarina sitting on a bench, her head in her hands.

“I’m so embarrassed! I keep failing! What is that girl made of steel? Was she really raised in the soft, pampered capital?”

She muttered to herself, and I felt the need to apologize.

“I’m sorry. I know it must have been an unpleasant sight for someone unused to it,” I said gently.

I understood that witnessing the brutal reality of taking life could be uncomfortable for many people. I should have been more considerate and noticed sooner.

Sarina, still with a tense look, quickly straightened her posture.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. But before we go, I’d like to introduce you to the pride of Rostock.”

Sarina led me to a large open square near the castle’s outer walls. There, several soldiers were engaged in intense training, the sounds of clashing swords ringing through the air. It felt like a familiar sight to me.

“To protect the people from magical beasts, Rostock takes great pride in its martial prowess. The soldiers here never slack off in their training. While we do have mercenaries and adventurers, the Rostock knights are our last line of defense,” Sarina explained.

As she spoke, the knights training nearby noticed us and stopped to look. Their level of skill was impressive, rivaling that of knights from the capital.

I remembered the time I’d been sent on a magical beast hunt with the knight captain. The training we’d gone through back then came rushing back, and I felt a sense of nostalgia.

However, there was one thing that stood out. Not a single knight seemed to be practicing magic.

Curious, I turned to Sarina. “Do any of them train in magic?”
Before she could answer, a figure emerged from the group of knights. He was a young man with bright brown hair and a well-built physique, clad in Rostock’s armor. He stepped forward, hand on his chest, and gave a formal bow.

“Greetings, Saintess. I am Ritter, a knight of Rostock,” he introduced himself.

“Leberd de Calbunkus,” I replied.

Ritter lifted his head and smiled mischievously, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I was supposed to join the Wyvern hunt. I’d like to challenge you to a sparring match, Saintess, after hearing of how you single-handedly took down a wyvern!”

It was then that I realized the underlying meaning behind Ritter’s challenge. He was underestimating me, trying to show me who was in charge. I’d been in situations like this before—many times, actually. But ever since the title of “Bloodstained Saintess” had spread, no one dared treat me like a helpless little girl.

Of course, Rostock’s pride in martial skills made it understandable that they would want to test me, especially after I’d taken a wyvern they had planned to hunt.

As I processed this, I was hit by a strange sense of amusement. I had dealt with people like this before, so I knew exactly how to respond. I didn’t want to escalate things unnecessarily, but I also wanted to show that I wasn’t easily cowed.

I met Ritter’s gaze and said, “I’m fine with a spar, but with one condition.”

“Oh? A Saintess gives us a condition?” Ritter raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

I smirked. “You and everyone behind you should come at me all at once. It’s too much trouble otherwise.”

I saw Ritter and his companions freeze for a moment, their faces turning bright red. It was almost comical.

In the center of the training ground, I took up the borrowed sword and practiced a few swings. It was a good sword, heavy and well-balanced. The knights, including Ritter, were still arguing with Sarina.

“Ritter! This was just supposed to be a light challenge!” Sarina scolded him.

“What are you talking about? She said to come at her all at once! If we don’t go all out, we’ll embarrass ourselves and the Black Wolf Knights!”

Ritter ignored Sarina’s concerns and grabbed his sword, heading toward his comrades. The surrounding knights stopped their training, and a crowd began to gather around us. Ritter and his men were clearly ready for a serious fight.

“The match will end when one side either yields or is knocked to the ground. Let’s begin!”

At the signal from a knight acting as the referee, the three knights surrounding me spread out, while Ritter himself charged at me, his sword raised high.

I was prepared to meet him head-on, but just as his sword approached, he suddenly shifted and swung it with a massive burst of force.

The pressure of the sword blast flew at me like an invisible wave. I barely managed to twist my body to avoid it, feeling the air tremble as the force slashed the ground beneath us.
“Did she just dodge that sword pressure on her first try?!” someone exclaimed.

The knights were clearly surprised. Their plan to overwhelm me with sheer strength was now in jeopardy. I could see the competitive fire in their eyes as they came at me with everything they had. But instead of the usual underestimation, they were now treating me like a real opponent.

Ritter was surprised when I blocked his sword with my own, feeling the force shake through my arms. He wasn’t holding back, and I had to admit, his physical strength was impressive. But this was nothing new for me.

Ritter didn’t expect me to fully block his strike. His shock was evident, and he immediately tried to press me, hoping his comrades would take advantage of the opening.

But I wasn’t about to let that happen.

I channeled my magic into my sword and forcefully pushed his blade away, using his own momentum to stagger him back. Quickly, I turned and slashed the first knight who had been circling me.
The knight was knocked off balance and sent tumbling into another, who fell with him. The third knight lunged at me from the side, but I lowered my posture and swept his feet out from under him with a well-placed kick.

With the three knights incapacitated, I turned my attention back to Ritter, who was now rushing to finish the fight. But I had already prepared my next move.

“Water Bullet!”

With a swift motion, a blast of water struck Ritter square in the stomach, knocking him off his feet and sending him crashing to the ground.

“Ugh!” Ritter cried out, drenched as he rolled in the mud.
I stood over him, awaiting the official verdict. The referee still hadn’t called the match, so I turned to him.

“Looks like I won, right?”

“You—cheating!” One of Ritter’s fallen companions yelled.
“That’s right! You used magic!” another shouted.

The knights, including the ones who had been defeated, were now accusing me of unfair play. But I raised an eyebrow and calmly responded.

“Didn’t you say this match was ‘anything goes’? We never set any limits, did we? I used the tools at my disposal, just like you did.”

Ritter, his pride wounded, struggled to get to his feet. He glared at me, his face flushed with embarrassment and frustration.

“Fine. I’ll admit defeat, but only because I underestimated you. I’m sorry for underestimating you, Saintess. You’ve proved yourself… better than we thought.”

I couldn’t help but be surprised by his response. It was rare for someone to admit their mistakes like that, especially after challenging me so aggressively.

“I… I’ll take full responsibility for this. I should’ve known better.” He finally sat down, exhausted and humbled.
It felt good to see someone acknowledge their mistake, and I was impressed by Ritter’s character.

Suddenly, I felt a heavy presence behind me. I turned around, and there, walking toward me, was the man I had been waiting for: Teodoric de Rostock, the Lord of Rostock. His face was as hard and cold as ever, a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere around us.