I Can Hear the Saint’s Inner Thoughts

72 – Men’s Friendship (1)

* * *

After Astal left for the arena, Victoria secretly followed him. She was being so careful, suppressing her footsteps and hiding behind walls, worried someone might notice.

‘…This is all your fault for being so damn attractive.’

She was even resorting to flimsy self-justification, biting her nails as she moved.

Because feelings, by their nature, were like water in a glass; once they overflowed, there was no stopping them.

‘If you were even a little ugly, or didn’t attract the attention of other women… I wouldn’t be acting like this.’

Victoria, having already been rejected once, was showing a tendency to misjudge the situation. The feeling of having your affection denied was something only someone who’d experienced it could truly understand.

Lately, Victoria couldn’t sleep if Astal wasn’t nearby, and if she couldn’t see him, she was so anxious she couldn’t do anything.

How did things end up like this?

Just for a moment she thought, how did I become so weak?

‘…Found him.’

Just being near Astal made those worries and anxieties melt away like snow, a warm feeling swelling deep inside her chest.

It felt soft, like walking on clouds, fluffy and happy enough that the thought, ‘So this is why people fall in love,’ even crossed her mind.

‘Wait, why is he with that huge, muscular Orc?’

Victoria, having spotted Astal at a tavern, felt that something was off as she looked at the scene before her.

A massive figure, easily twice the height of an adult man, and an Orc with such prominent veins bulging from the muscles all over his body, he had the look of a warrior.

“I like your guts. You’re not bad looking either… I might even introduce a guy like you to my sister back home.”

“I thought Orcs had different aesthetic tastes than humans.”

“To be precise, we prefer strength over looks in a partner. If you’re as strong as the rumors say, cutting down demons and even killing Bellamora, one of the Four Heavenly Kings, then you’re more than good enough.”

*Thump—.*

Victoria, eavesdropping on Glakthar’s jovial conversation, felt her heart drop in her chest.

She’d been sure they’d connected, even just a little, exchanging those embarrassing moments. Seeing Astal hesitate, not immediately refusing, filled her with jealousy.

‘So, any woman would do after all…?’

Ultimately, the reason for this misunderstanding was the result of Victoria’s behavior up until now. Compared to herself, with her constant insults and harsh words, she knew that any woman in the world would be better.

‘…Do all those sweet words and actions he gave me mean nothing now? He doesn’t need to pay attention to a fish he’s already caught?’

Victoria gnawed on her fingernails, picturing him marrying an Orc woman she’d never even met.

Imagining herself, forced to clap with tears in her eyes at the wedding because of her position as a Saintess, or even picturing the half-Orc child they’d have later, she felt like she was going to choke on her own bitterness.

“…I’m sorry, but I’ll have to decline. I understand what you mean, though. You’re asking me to take care of your sister if you die in the arena, right?”

Completely unaware that Victoria was watching him from behind with such a serious expression, Astal rejected Glakthar’s proposal.

“You’re quick on the uptake. I thought if it was you, making a name for yourself with a hero party, you could definitely take care of my poor sister!”

From the start, this was a sort of transaction.

Graktaar figured making him indebted through training meant he could protect his family if he died.

In the Demon World, swarming with demons and monsters, you could say there’s almost no one you can truly trust. Besides, this is a purgatory where only the combat-crazed who participate in the arena exist.

But,

“…You’re famous as the ‘Innocuous Mage’. I don’t think you’d harm my innocent family.”

If it was a hero party, practically the embodiment of good, going around saving people and eradicating evil, it might be different.

Graktaar had also agreed to Astal’s proposal to protect his family after he died.

“Sorry, but I’m already seeing someone.”

“You’re not married yet? Your body is practically reeking of dragon scent? So I thought there might be room for a concubine…”

“…What?”

Graktaar sniffed his green nose, tilting his head as if something was wrong. Normally, this strong a mark isn’t made unless you’re married, so what on earth happened to get treated like this?

“Just what it sounds like. Right now, anyone can tell that ‘this man is taken.’ because you’re practically drenched in dragon pheromones.”

“I have a hunch.”

“…Most small animals or insects won’t even approach you. There’s a brutal killing intent mixed in, saying you’ll die if you touch him.”

Listening to Graktaar, Victoria couldn’t lift her head in embarrassment.

She did intentionally leave a scent to cause misunderstandings, but she didn’t expect an orc with a sensitive nose to offer such an accurate interpretation.

* * *

Graktaar and I moved together, searching for an empty field with almost no topographical features. We were looking for an environment that was as close as possible to the arena where we would have to fight later.

“…In Dulahan-nim’s arena, you can meet strong people from all over. It’s a good idea not to completely rely on your usual fighting style. There are so many variables.”

Swallowing a hissing sound, Graktaar was giving me advice about fighting in the arena. Under normal circumstances, leaking this kind of information to a competitor wouldn’t be a very good choice.

He probably took my honest display of fighting spirit well. After all, combat-crazed races have a tendency to do anything as long as they can fight a stronger opponent.

“For instance?”

“There are vampires, right? At first, they hide their identity like normal humans, feigning death, then take advantage of the lapse in guard to suck blood… They put their target in a dazed state.”

Graktaar stroked his chin as he continued. It was clear he was recalling something horrific, his face visibly contorting.

“If you’re attacked like that for the first time, you wouldn’t know how to deal with it. You’re supposed to deliberately let blood – have phlebotomy – but how would you know that right away?”

“Yeah, if it actually happens, things appear doubled, everything in your sight shakes and looks blurry, you’re too out of it to think straight.”

“…Huh? Have you fought vampires too?”

Nod, nod.

I just nodded in response to Graktaar’s interested stare. After surviving a year in the Demon Realm, there were only a handful of times I hadn’t fought.

“I barely managed to defeat one by hammering a silver stake into its heart. These days, even a mid-level mage can do material transformation.”

“Regrettably, that method won’t work in the arena. Here, they won’t die even if you rip their hearts out while they’re still alive.”

Graktaar shook his head at my remark, rejecting it.

In the Forsaken Hollow, you could only win by completely pulverizing your opponent until they couldn’t move, or by obliterating their existence.

“The method I recommend is targeting and cutting the muscles on the inside of their joints, where they bend. Even if that doesn’t kill them, they won’t be able to move. It makes suppressing your opponent easier.”

“I saw that during your last match. You looked pretty skilled at it. Does that method still work even if the skeletal muscle is different from a normal creature’s?”

I spoke while recalling the attacks Graktaar had shown. It would be fine if the skeleton was similar to a beast or human, but there were cases where that wasn’t true.

“If you can tell that much, you’re probably alright! I always figure out how the opponent moves, where their muscles and bones are, *before* I act.”

Graktaar chuckled as he looked at me. For him, someone who could dissect muscles at a speed the opponent couldn’t even defend against, knowing even that much meant I had quite a talent.

“…If you mainly use your fists, mixing in legwork will also help. Anticipate their actions by considering the position of their feet, fingertips, breathing, and so on.”

He slowly pulled the war axe from behind his back and opened his mouth to speak to me.

The air shifted in an instant.

The fighting spirit gleaming in Glactar’s eyes screamed of overwhelming power.

“Glactar, warrior of the demon god Avisarus. I will give my all for this glorious battle.”

“…Astal Kaisaros, mage of non-harm. I can only hope for a good fight.”

Watching him, I unraveled the magic circle, coiling it around my fist like thread, and braced myself to fight Glactar.