How To Live As An Academy Extra Villain

✦ Chapter 97 ✦

「Translator – Creator」

When Edwin annihilated the Necromancer’s body, Cecila finally felt that she could use her holy power again. 

Without hesitation, she restored the other two priests. Then she expelled the mana from her own body and returned herself to a normal state. 

—Booong!

And in that brief moment when she turned her head back towards Edwin, a sense of foreboding suddenly overcame her. Edwin had taken a direct hit from the shockwave released by the Necromancer and was knocked down. His body lay powerless on the hard warehouse floor.

“No!!”

She rushed frantically to his side.

The necromancer’s initial attack had already filled his body with dense evil energy, and neither she nor the other priests, who had been subdued by the evil magic, could heal him.

In that state, he had squeezed out every last drop of mana to counterattack the necromancer, only to take such a devastating blow up close. For a regular person, it would have been no surprise if they died on the spot.

Cecila gently touched Edwin’s cheek, examining him. Although he was severely injured, he was incredibly resilient.

“Phew…”  

Breathing a sigh of relief, she infused him with her holy power. In this condition, he wouldn’t die. A good rest would restore his body to tranquility.

“You worked hard, Edwin. Leave the rest to me now.”

As she closed Edwin’s eyelids, he offered no resistance, surrendering his body to her care. When she stood up and turned around, a menacing black spirit loomed. The souls enslaved by the necromancer had now shed their physical forms and become wraiths that blackened the sky.

It seemed Edwin had broken the necromancer’s spell, and he too was sound asleep, so she had nothing to hold her back. She unleashed the full extent of her holy power that she had kept hidden deep within.

Her faint aura began to brighten. The divine power she harbored grew more luminous. Her gray hair turned silver, and her light blue eyes deepened into the color of the ocean.

The transformation happened in a very short time, and the Goddess’ daughter revealed her true form to the world.

“So much has happened today. A demon, and…a necromancer was it? With those black wraiths appearing, daring to covet souls in such blasphemy…”

“…I’ve never seen it myself either, but my thoughts mirror yours, Saintess…”

The recovered priest approached Cecila and took a defensive stance, surveying the surroundings. The other found Mona, who had been hiding in a pile of clutter; having experienced too much for a child to bear, she had already fallen asleep from exhaustion.

“The books clearly said the Great Demon and all were defeated…”

She calmly assessed the situation. Not a shred of reason could be found in the necromancer, who had already become an evil spirit. Yet perhaps sensing the innate dread inspired by the Saintess’ immense holy power, it hesitated to charge recklessly.

Cecila had considered briefly interrogating the necromancer before meting out a fitting punishment, but soon abandoned the idea. She could not guarantee eliciting a proper response.

Moreover, if she gave it more time, she might fall victim to its strange spells again like before. And she wanted to return those poor, suffering souls groaning nearby to the Goddess’ embrace as soon as possible.

Without delay, she began her task. Her resolution was simultaneously realized. A brilliant, shining halo manifested behind her head. Having witnessed her holy power, the priests knelt and simply waited for her to complete her deed.

Emanating from Cecila in ripples was a wave; and a gentle, tranquil wave of light spread throughout the entire village.

The hollow husks of the villagers crumbled to dust. Celebrating their liberation from eternal bondage, the wraiths touched by the wave of light also shed their earthly shells.

“…That power…”

Becky, the freckled orange-haired girl who had returned from being an evil spirit, muttered as if in a daze. She looked down at her own hands. The physical body she had inhabited after her appointed time had already turned to ash and was scattering. The recent light had swept away all her mana, and now there were no more souls here to prolong her life either.

“…A lapdog of Nadira… How am I here now…”

Cecila couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow slightly at Becky’s words; that base and profane creature irked her even at the end, daring to utter the Goddess’ name and insult her. 

But she soon regained her composure. This being would soon be eternally obliterated, unworthy of even being recorded in the heavens; there was no need to pay it excessive attention.

“Corrupted… Where did it all go wrong… This wasn’t supposed to be my fate…”

Becky’s lament did not last long. Without leaving a final testament, the necromancer turned to ash and scattered into the air. For a moment, Cecila had the illusion that its final gaze was directed at Edwin.

Though she withdrew the holy power she had emanated, a deep azure light still hung in the air. Over the hills, dawn had already broken.

As she resheathed her holy power, Cecila too regained her natural colors — the form of a girl with gray hair and hazy sky-blue eyes.

“Ugh…it really is taxing…now I understand why Lord Erich said to only use it at the most critical moments…”

“Saintess…!”

“…I’m alright. And please, call me Cecila. More importantly, go out and try to find Dante’s group quickly.”

The prostrated priests jumped to their feet, but Cecila waved them off. Heeding her command, the priests left to search the area, soon finding the others who had been knocked unconscious. Thankfully none were gravely injured, but all were severely depleted of energy.

She infused them too with her holy power.

“Antonio, Ernesta. Have the others rest nearby for now. And make sure to bring…Mona, was it? This child as well.”

“Then what will you do, Lady Cecila?”

“I’ll handle things here, so don’t worry. I’ll call if anything comes up.”

Though initially reluctant, the priests eventually complied and took their leave.

Cecila surveyed her surroundings. All that existed in this space now was tranquility, herself, and Edwin.

She approached Edwin and crouched down beside him, examining him once more.

He still had not awoken from his slumber. With each faint breath, the bangs covering his face swayed slightly.

Today had been an extraordinary day. Who could have foreseen encountering such events on what was supposed to be a routine excursion down south to deal with some heretics? The hidden evil had revealed itself before her, bringing her to death’s door.

She recalled her behavior earlier, hurling insults at the necromancer.

“…I wonder when I’ll ever break this foul habit…”

She clicked her tongue lightly.

Though it had been over 10 years since Archbishop Timothy adopted her and she was revered as the Saintess, the rough speech ingrained from her streetwise younger days stubbornly persisted.

Her adoptive father had cautioned that this bad habit could get her in trouble someday. But she never imagined it would land her in such hot water.

And the reason she was alive now was undoubtedly thanks to Edwin.

By diverting the necromancer’s attention and ultimately taking that blow, he enabled Cecila to recover her holy power.

But just what was that? Those black flames that consumed the necromancer and its mana.

Cecila heard it clearly. Surely Edwin’s incantation was one she recognized — a low-level flame that even civilian students unversed in magic could soon wield routinely.

Edwin was a hazy existence for Cecila. Always wavering, seeming to come into focus yet slipping away.

She recalled the day she first saw him. She remembered Edwin’s appearance, having unexpectedly brought a sacred relic that moved her adoptive father Archbishop Timothy to tears. Even she, hidden behind the curtain then, had been utterly flustered.

“…Hmm.”

Though she didn’t show it much, she was just as taken aback when she first came to the academy.

When she completed the transfer paperwork, he had been demoted to a lower class due to disciplinary issues; the reason was allegedly for bullying his fellow students, no less.

Even after returning, he didn’t cease his antics. Rumors swirled among the first-years that he treated a commoner girl like a slave. It revealed another side to the figure who seemed like a divine messenger when she saw him in Westford.

But it didn’t particularly concern her. She already knew he had an enigmatic aspect, and Cecila had her own reasons for coming to the academy.

Of course, one was to make friends and enjoy her school days, but even that was merely a stepping stone towards her ultimate goal. And so far, the one before her now best aligned with that purpose.

Thanks to the relic of Cynthia that Edwin brought, Archbishop Timothy could proceed with his return to the Motherland. He was carrying out reforms in his own way, but it was still insufficient. Removing those festering tumors required greater backing.

From someone like a Hero, for instance.

“Hmm…”

She looked down at Edwin again. Still, something felt off. After a momentary contemplation, she pinpointed the source of her discomfort.

For the one who saved the Saintess’ life to slumber on this cold, hard floor was an unkind treatment. She could easily decide her next course — to extend him a bit of kindness.

She knelt down, adjusting her posture; then gently lifting Edwin’s head with both hands, she carefully drew it up onto her lap, exerting a light force. His substantial weight and faint warmth transmitted through her knees to her.

Though momentarily surprised by her impulsive decision, she did not rescind it. Gazing upon Edwin resting atop her, one question arose.

“I wonder if any Saintess has ever had someone lay their head in her lap throughout history?”

She pondered it briefly with a furrowed brow, but it was a question Cecila could not answer.

Instead, she turned her thoughts to the necromancer’s words about the prophecy being corrupted.

The liberator of the relic none could find.

The wielder of black flames that could incinerate even mana.

Of course, the decision would be made by the gods. But to her mind, she could not envision anyone closer to a Hero than he.

In fact, their lineages have been entwined since their ancestors’ generations. She had already heard from Edwin that Archbishop Timothy previously visited the south, so there was no need to state who the “strict inquisitor” the necromancer mentioned referred to.

Moreover, Cecila even felt a hint of maternal love towards Edwin, after hearing the necromancer’s heart-wrenching taunts; though fleeting, the anguish that flashed across his face then remained vividly etched in her mind.

While there was the sadness of losing a mother, in the current circumstances it was hardly a major flaw. Rather, it could become a factor allowing them to embrace each other.

She did not harbor any romantic feelings for Edwin, but not all affairs of the world proceed from such dewy naivete.

Even the scripture speaks of husband and wife as intimates. At first one may not know, but living together…

“……….?”

Cecila cocked her head, having let her imagination run quite far. Why was she already behaving as if she had predetermined her husband?

Perhaps it was an unconscious desire deep within.

For between the complete stranger and the one who had already shown her so much, which to take as a husband was as clear as daylight. Even the gods would likely have the same thoughts if they had eyes.

“…No, no. I should observe further. Edwin, don’t get too full of yourself. You are still only a ‘candidate’ after all…”

Cecila struggled to admonish herself. She suddenly wondered — did the Saintess’ husband have particular duties? If so, what must she provide him in turn?

“…Just being a good helpmeet should suffice, no? Nothing special? Sometimes when he’s troubled, I could let him rest his head like this…lend an ear to his worries…and then…”

What came after, Cecila could only vaguely sense but not articulate, so she left it unspoken.

“Edwin, will you be my heroic knight?”

Cecila murmured softly, gazing at him; however, the deeply slumbering Edwin did not respond.

“…Edwin, will there come a day when you call me by my true name?”

Christina, the Saintess, uttered once more.

Still, Edwin did not open his eyes.

— End of Chapter —

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