Chapter 29 : The Witch Decides to Teach the Irreverent a Lesson

“You lot! Come over here and break this stone apart!”

Rinalit Aikuith tossed aside his broken sword, now snapped in two, and turned to bark orders at the knights still kneeling on the ground.

But this only made the knights hesitate.

The divine oracle had been very clear just moments ago: only the chosen hero could draw the Holy Sword.

And now, Rinalit—blinded by the glory that came with being the hero—was committing the grave sin of defying the goddess’s will.

He may have lost his mind, but the knights had not.

If the goddess were to deliver divine punishment, none of them could bear the consequences.

“Lord Rinalit Aikuith! Please, reconsider your actions!”

One knight called out loudly in warning.

But before he could finish, Rinalit shot him a fiery glare that seemed to blaze with rage.

“What are you implying? That I’m not the chosen hero?”

“I-I wouldn’t dare!” The knight, cowed by his wrath, lowered his head and dared not speak further.

Seeing that none of the kneeling knights showed any intention of assisting him, Rinalit grew even more furious.

Fortunately, he hadn’t yet completely lost his sense of reason.

Most of these knights were devout followers of the Church—more loyal to the goddesses than to their own commander.

Even those who weren’t particularly religious had been shaken by the oracle and feared provoking divine wrath.

Rinalit understood all this.

As dissatisfied as he was, he knew that if he kept pushing them, even the last bit of loyalty they held for him might crumble.

But he also didn’t dare touch the stone himself—not with the possibility of divine punishment looming over him.

Still, to back down now… that was something his pride couldn’t accept.

After a long silence, a devious grin crept across Rinalit’s face.

He raised his hand and gave a high-spirited command to the knights:

“Bring those villagers we locked up—have them bring tools, hammers, and iron picks.”

If he couldn’t command his own soldiers, then at least he had some laborers in cages waiting to be used.

After all, there was no money to be squeezed from this bunch of paupers.

These ignorant peasants didn’t even offer the bare minimum of ‘military donations’ when he graciously visited their wretched village.

Since they refused to show respect, then they could at least serve as stepping stones on his path to glory.

If they died in the process, it would be an honor for them.

The more he thought about it, the more impressed Rinalit was with his own brilliance and decisiveness.

Surely, only someone as intelligent, courageous, and innately noble as he could be worthy of the title of Hero.

No—perhaps the Hero was made for him.

…

…

Up in a tree near the Holy Sword, Lanafit frowned in disgust as she watched Rinalit’s antics unfold.

“Tch. What a complete piece of garbage.”

She was close enough to hear everything clearly—Rinalit’s voice was annoyingly loud and full of arrogance.

It didn’t take much to guess why he wanted the villagers.

He planned to use them to chisel out the sword, and if divine punishment did fall, they’d be the ones to suffer it.

Greedy and cruel—a truly despicable man.

Originally, Lanafit had forged this fake Holy Sword and staged a divine oracle in hopes that Rinalit would draw the sword, feel triumphant, and then leave—at which point the villagers would be released, no longer of use.

But now?

Lanafit had changed her mind.

Even if someone did manage to pull the sword from the stone, she wasn’t about to let such a cherished dream from her childhood fall into the hands of a man like that.

No, he needed to be taught a lesson.

With her resolve firm, Lanafit remained hidden and waited.

It wasn’t long before soldiers arrived with twelve young villagers in tow.

As soon as they saw the sword embedded in the stone, astonishment spread across their faces.

They had all heard the sacred voice of the oracle—it had echoed through the entire forest.

When Rinalit ordered them to chisel the stone and retrieve the sword, their faces turned ashen.

This was clearly blasphemy—defying the oracle, defiling a weapon crafted by the goddesses themselves.

They wouldn’t dare, even if they had a hundred lives.

But with blades at their throats, they had no choice but to comply.

One by one, they began their work, praying silently that the goddesses would forgive those who acted under duress.

Clang—!

Clang—!

Clang—!

The sharp, piercing sounds of metal striking stone rang out through the forest.

Each strike of the iron pick sent sparks flying.

But no matter how many times the tools struck, the stone that held the sword didn’t so much as crack.

The villagers’ fear only deepened.

If the stone remained untouched, it clearly meant this was no ordinary rock.

Their actions were undoubtedly seen as defiance against the divine.

At the same time, the longer they failed to make progress, the darker Rinalit’s expression became.

And they feared what he might do next.

…

Finally, as the sun dipped low on the horizon and still the stone remained whole, Rinalit stood up with a roar.

Rage twisted his face as he stormed toward the villagers, lifting his whip to strike one of them.

“Useless filth!”

And just at that moment, from the tree where Lanafit had been hidden for hours, her eyes lit up.

This was the moment.

Just as the whip was about to strike—

“BOOM——!!”

A blinding flash of white light exploded before everyone’s eyes, accompanied by a thunderous roar that shattered the forest’s stillness.

Instinctive fear gripped them all.

They threw themselves to the ground, covering their heads, desperate to avoid what seemed like divine retribution.

But as the light gradually faded, they looked around in shock—only one person was still standing: Rinalit.

The knights and soldiers were just about to praise his bravery when, in truth, Rinalit himself was trembling inside.

The whip in his hand had been snapped in two, and the half he still held was lightly smoking.

Before him lay a scorched patch of blackened earth.

The lightning bolt had narrowly missed him.

Its residual force alone had scorched his skin and left his entire body tingling and numb.

There was no doubt in his mind: if he had taken even one more step forward, the lightning would have struck him squarely, and he wouldn’t have survived.

At the realization, his legs buckled, and he fell to his knees.

Whether from fear or from the lingering numbness, he couldn’t summon the strength to stand.

He even felt like curling up on the ground—but his pride forced him to remain kneeling, his armor now soaked with cold sweat.

Not far off, Lanafit watched his pathetic state from the tree with a cold smirk.

Of course, she had never intended to actually kill him.

The lightning strike had been deliberately aimed to miss—just close enough to terrify him.

And judging by the result, it worked perfectly.

At that moment, the soldiers and knights finally noticed something was off—the scorched ground in front of their commander, and his trembling body.

Normally, stepping forward to help the commander up would be a great chance to score some favor—but now, not a soul dared move.

One by one, they stayed frozen on the ground.

In their hearts, it was clear: Rinalit had angered the goddesses, and that lightning bolt was a divine warning against his irreverent actions.

But it wasn’t just the soldiers and knights who were shaken—so were the dozen or so villagers.

They dropped their tools immediately and dared not go near the Holy Sword again.

Lanafit felt no sympathy.

If anything, she considered this a little payback.

After all, if not for these villagers, would she have had to stay hidden in this forest for three whole days?

She continued to observe from her perch, waiting to see what would happen next.

But just then, a young soldier came running up.

“Lord Rinalit Aikuith!”

He was clearly out of breath, having run a long distance—likely one of the soldiers left behind at the camp.

When he arrived and took in the scene—soldiers and knights kneeling before a sword, and their commander also kneeling before it—he assumed he was witnessing another divine revelation.

Perhaps everyone was praying to the goddess?

He even considered bowing himself.

But remembering his mission, he gave up the thought and stepped forward quickly, raising his voice:

“Lord Rinalit Aikuith! His Majesty has sent an imperial decree—commanding you to bring the Holy Sword back to the capital immediately!”

The message snapped Rinalit out of his daze, and his eyes widened in disbelief.

Technically, the Geshk Forest was far from the capital.

The emperor shouldn’t have received news this quickly.

It was now obvious—before they even left, there had already been an informant among their ranks, someone loyal to the capital.

The moment the Holy Sword was discovered, they must’ve contacted the palace through a magical communication device.

This realization sent a fresh wave of panic through Rinalit.

He was finally jolted out of his sword-obsessed fantasies.

Thinking back on everything he had done—his arrogance, the staged blasphemy, and even provoking divine punishment—if the emperor were to find out, he’d be in serious trouble.

A bitter feeling settled in his chest.

So much for dreams of becoming a Hero.

Not only had he lost any claim to glory, but now he would have to use up his years of saved wealth bribing officials just to keep his noble title.

But regret did not mean repentance.

In his mind, it wasn’t his fault the sword hadn’t chosen him.

No—it was the fault of the goddesses above, who had failed to see his greatness.

How absurd, to deny someone as talented as him the role of Hero!

He motioned for the messenger to help him up.

The numbness had mostly faded by now.

Mounting his horse, Rinalit cast one last glance at the Holy Sword, then turned and shouted:

“Men! Load the sword and the stone onto the wagon! Gather the army—we’re returning to camp!”

With that command, the sword and its stone were carefully loaded onto a wagon and driven off.

The soldiers and knights quickly dispersed, leaving behind only the trampled underbrush of the forest—and a dozen confused villagers.

Lanafit couldn’t help but feel speechless.

He wasn’t even bothering to deal with the villagers anymore.

Why were they still standing there, dumbfounded?

What, were they getting used to being prisoners now?