Jocasta raised her longsword. The beautiful silver blade was of blessed steel, forged deep inside the Cathedral in Creno. It had been personally blessed by His Reverence himself, and thus, it was also named by him.
Smile.
Perhaps the reason he decided to name the blade Smile was because of its wielder — Jocasta, who always seemed to be smiling. Uncanny, some found it. Most… found it. Nevertheless, Jocasta continued smiling.
The day she would stop smiling… even the other Saints felt quite uneasy. As the massive pieces of debris were about to collide, she swung her sword sideways.
The debris was gone.
Only a faint dust remained, as the residents of Brigald Town looked up at their saviour. Jocasta leapt down from the clocktower and landed with a soft thud.
Her smile elongated as she spoke cheerfully:
"Do not worry, the Light is with you all. No forces of darkness shall harm you as long as I am here. Praise be to the Light!"
"Praise be to the Light…" they spoke reverently, ushering in the radiance of their saviour. After all, the Saint's immense presence made people either be in awe of her or fear her.
She didn't mind which one.
She inspected her blade and found, to her annoyance, that it was dirtied slightly. She thought that she had cut the debris finely enough.
'Ah… I'm still so slow.'
She set her eyes on the cliffs in the distance and narrowed her eyes, her smile becoming much more dangerous.
"But I'm still fast enough to get you, little Prince."
"She's coming. It's over, we're all going to die!" Ars stumbled, as the rest of them looked at the Saint, who was leaping from cliff to cliff, her armour shining.
"F*ck." Alastor grimaced and looked at Kios, who was watching the incoming enemy with a disturbing expression.
Disturbing to Alastor, because why was Kios smiling?
"We can't run. We can't hide. Oh, I hate fighting, did you know that?" He sighed dramatically and stretched his arms. "But it seems we're going to have to fight her."
Liras's expression hardened, yet his grasp on his spear became tighter. Alastor revealed a long-barrelled pistol, an insidious aura emanating from it. Ars exhaled slowly, yet revealed his blue-hilted sword.
A shadow appeared in front of them, as a woman in shining armour stepped out of the sunlight. Wearing a cheerful smile, she pointed her beautiful blade at them and tilted her head.
"You should have run. This is unexpected — I thought you'd be smarter. Ah well, let's fight then. Try not to die too quickly." She paused, then added in an innocent tone, "And because you guys caused that explosion and made me dirty my sword, I think I'm going to kill you all very painfully."
At that moment, all of them felt a ruthless force pressing down on them, causing each one to lower themselves a bit.
"This…"
'Is the aura of a Saint. It's as harrowing as it is beautiful. Such immense power…' Ars thought.
Jocasta lowered her blade, and the pressure decreased slightly. She then cut upwards in a horizontal slash, cutting the air. Liras, who was in the way, immediately rolled to the side.
The air from the cut pushed them back, and they heard the sound of rocks tumbling. When they looked back, they saw that all the cliffs behind them — as far as the eye could see —
Had been cut. Vertically.
The Present Box, cued by a mental command by Alastor, quickly floated away. All four men looked at each other, and simultaneously began attacking.
Alastor aimed and shot at her. Liras dashed forward with his spear, its tip burning with golden radiance. Kios had gone to her side, and with two crimson daggers emanating a demonic aura, he aimed to cut her waist. Ars, with surprising agility, flipped over her and aimed to attack her from behind.
What happened next could only be described as utter carnage. It was one-sided, really. Unfair… very unfair.
She turned into a blur. The bullets missed her. She deflected Liras's spear and kicked him with a roundhouse — the shockwave sent him flying.
Ars thrusted, only for her to swirl around and trip him. The young general stumbled and countered with a series of slashes — all missing Jocasta, who was dodging them with blurring speed, still smiling cheerfully.
A torrent of purple hellfire burst forth from Kios's daggers, the insidious aura sending shivers up Ars's spine. The Saint's smile dimmed a bit, but her gaze was soon full of murderous intent as she continued walking toward Kios — the hellfire seemingly causing no damage to her.
Kios scoffed disdainfully. "Blessed armour. How quaint."
At that moment, another torrent of flame shot at her from Liras's palm, his eyes burning with incinerating fury. The two flames — orange and purple — mixed and formed a swirling double helix.
The Saint's figure disappeared in the flame, yet only a moment later, a powerful light-blue arc of light appeared, destroying the flames.
There, unscathed, stood Jocasta.
"Just how are we supposed to defeat her?" Alastor mumbled. As he shot at her, she seemed to be cautious of Alastor's bullets, which was comforting, to say the least. At least she could be damaged… hopefully.
If only he could manage to land a shot.
But she was too fast. And she wasn't even trying.
Indeed, the smiling Saint was currently pondering on her dinner as she fought them.
'The inn apparently has some very delicious chicken stew. Or maybe I'll go to a restaurant and do some fine dining. And they apparently have a very nice selection of liquor… no, what the hell am I thinking about? Forgive me, Lord.'
Jocasta, as pious and devoted as she was, had a flaw. Alcohol was that flaw.
Ars groggily stood up, activating his unique vision. Similar to Spirit Vision, he was able to see the flow of spirituality of a person too. The Saint's constitution was unlike any other person's he'd ever glimpsed into.
Her spirituality was a powerful river, flowing throughout her entire body. Not only that, but her spirituality was also being drained by her blade.
'So that's it!'
The Saint was enhancing her blade with her own spirituality, making it stronger. If she was to stop feeding it her spirituality, then it may reveal its true form as an ordinary blade.
However, Ars doubted this. He doubted that a Saint's personal blade would be forged of ordinary steel and make.
Jocasta slashed at Kios, who barely rolled underneath. The air slash cut all the cliffs behind him, similar to the cliffs that were once behind Liras.
Alastor calmly approached her, shooting at her with his endless amount of bullets. However, every bullet would be precisely dodged. In fact, Jocasta did not even seem to be bothered. It was as if she moved reflexively.
Liras roared and burst forth another torrent of flame. Jocasta — unperturbed — forgot about Kios and instead leapt towards Liras.
"Word of advice… never turn your back to an enemy. Especially… one like me." Kios smiled darkly as he gulped down a small vial of frothy black liquid. His pupils dilated, and his tainted aura became even darker.
'That fool… he really does drink demon blood.' Alastor scoffed. He then looked at Jocasta and hardened his expression.
A golden smoke seeped from him toward the Saint. It engulfed the battlefield, yet it did not hide anyone's visage.
'Want… what does she want?'
'Liras. To kill him. I… can twist that desire… that greed.'
Alastor's sinister ability to manipulate desires and greeds was truly befitting of a descendant of Greed.
Yet, it was to no avail. The golden smoke had no effect on Jocasta. Only, it made her seem even more terrifying.
'She doesn't even desire Liras's death. She's not even thinking about him. Instead… she's thinking about… fucking food?'
Alastor scoffed. What could he do, amplify her desire for food?
He watched as Kios danced with the Saint. His battle style was devious and cunning, yet also cowardly. But there was another aspect to it… he was unpredictable.
Truly, unpredictable in both character and fighting.
He would feint a strike and instead sidestep to attack from another angle.He would pretend to be trapped, but instead fly over her to attack her from behind.Random bursts of hellfire — the daggers' innate abilities were having an effect too. The Saint was no longer smiling so cheerfully. Instead, it had been reduced to a… normal one.
Alastor felt unnerved. Sure, they were doing something to her. But the moment she truly began fighting, they would be doomed.
Ars's eyes glowed turquoise as he examined Jocasta's battle style. It was like a toddler reading an ancient text. Ruthless, yet calculated perfectly. Each strike, each parry, each thrust —
Each step was calculated. Impossibly strong, fast, and durable.
At that moment, his ears popped. Liras had thrown his spear with such force, propelled it with his flames, that it had broken the sound barrier. Yet the Saint did not even budge. She didn't even look that way — yet she had caught the spear.
"I thought you were stronger, little Prince."
Liras growled, as the spear escaped from her grasp and was sent back to him. Kios walked over to his side, facing the Saint with a crazed expression — more crazed than normal, anyway.
Ars drew his sword, which had been wielded by his father, and his father before him. The three stood against the Saint, who was smiling as they were battered, bloodied, and bruised.
Only Alastor was nowhere to be seen…