Free Web NovelChapter 141: The Saintess
Kane dismissed the screens with a quick thought, staring down at his bruised and punctured left arm.
Two overgrown swamp rats managed to do this much damage in under five minutes.
’If I am going to fight the Mountain Serpent next month,’ Kane plotted, looking toward the northern horizon where Fog Mountain loomed in the distance, ’I have a hell of a lot of grinding to do before then.’
"Let’s head back," Kane announced, whistling for his stallion.
"We have a saintess arriving tonight, and I need a fresh tunic before we start talking divine politics."
Riding through the gates of the capital felt entirely different.
Southern recruits paused their weapon drills in the courtyard, staring wide-eyed as Kane casually tossed the severed river behemoth head onto the cobblestones.
It landed with a wet thud, rolling to a stop near the barracks.
"Dinner," Kane called out to a stunned quartermaster.
"Boil it down. Share it with the men."
Misha shook her head and guided him upstairs before anyone could ask questions.
Inside his private quarters, she pushed him onto a stool. Pulling a glowing green jar from his pouch, she unscrewed the lid.
"You really lack basic self-preservation," Misha scolded gently, scooping out the system-bought healing salve.
"Worked out fine in the end," Kane chuckled, wincing as her cool fingers rubbed the paste into his mangled bicep.
Muscle fibers immediately began knitting back together.
A soothing warmth replaced the biting pain of the monster’s teeth.
"I am just saying, husband, using your own limb as bait is a poor strategy," she murmured, leaning close to blow a breath of cool air over the fresh pink skin.
’She actually cares,’ Kane realized, feeling a strange warmth settle deep in his chest.
’Back in my old life, taking damage just meant resetting the game alone in a quiet room. Now I have a wife blowing on my bruises and worrying about my arms. Not a bad trade at all.’
"I will try to use Thora’s arm next time," Kane joked, wrapping his good arm around her waist.
Misha smiled, pressing a kiss against his uninjured shoulder.
"Much better. Keep your own limbs attached, please."
Opening his interface, Kane reviewed his new status while Misha cleaned up the supplies.
[Level 142 Reached]
[Stat Points Available: 15]
’That snake is fast and hits like a falling building. Need to match that.’
Allocating ten points into Raw Strength and five into Agility, a sudden rush of energy zipped through his veins.
His grip felt firmer. His reflexes hummed with new life.
Dusk settled over the capital a few hours later.
Firlia knocked on his door, her pointed ears twitching with irritation.
"They are here," Firlia announced, her tone completely flat.
"And they are quite annoying."
Walking down to the grand hall, Kane found out exactly what she meant.
A procession of men clad in pristine white armor stood proudly in the center of the room.
They kept their noses raised, whispering snide comments about the wooden architecture and the beastwomen standing guard by the doors.
In the middle of this pompous circle stood a woman draped in flowing silver veils—the Saintess.
"Barbarian," a tall paladin sneered, stepping forward to block Kane’s path to the guest of honor.
"You stand in the presence of the Fog Mountain Saintess. Cleanse your mind and prepare your soul."
Kane stopped a few feet away, raising an eyebrow.
"I am ready whenever she is. Hello, Saintess. Thanks for making the trip."
"Silence!" the lead paladin barked, pulling his sword halfway from its scabbard.
"You do not address her directly! You will drop to your knees, bow your head to the floor, and beg for her divine blessing before any words are exchanged!"
Kane stared at the man for a long moment.
’Is this guy serious?’ Kane wondered, genuinely baffled by the sheer audacity of the demand.
’You walk into a warlord’s house, surrounded by my army, and demand I kiss the floor? These holy knights really live in their own bubble.’
"I don’t really do the kneeling thing," Kane replied politely, crossing his arms.
"You will kneel, savage, or we will force you down!" The paladin signaled his men.
Four other armored knights stepped forward, hands resting on their sword pommels, trying to look intimidating.
"Alright," Kane sighed, shaking his head.
Instead of drawing Mjoldr, Kane simply tapped into his newly upgraded stats.
He activated a tiny fraction of his aura, directing the pressure straight forward without taking a single step.
Air twisted around him.
A suffocating, crushing weight slammed down onto the paladins.
Crack.
The lead knight collapsed instantly.
His kneecaps smashed into the wooden floorboards so hard the timber splintered underneath him. His men followed a second later, gasping for breath as they were pinned to the ground by an invisible burden.
Sweat poured down their arrogant faces as they struggled to even lift their heads.
"You were saying?" Kane asked, stepping casually over the lead paladin’s twitching body.
Reaching the center of the circle, he offered a hand to the veiled woman.
A musical laugh echoed from beneath the silver fabric. The Saintess took his hand gracefully, completely ignoring her groveling guards.
"The Northern Empress warned me about your temper," she said, her voice bright and entirely unbothered.
"She said you were practical and did not suffer fools."
"I try to be," Kane smiled, gesturing toward a nearby table.
"Have a seat. We can leave them on the floor. It builds character."
"Agreed," she hummed, taking a chair.
Misha walked in a moment later, nodding respectfully to the guest before taking a seat beside Kane.
She poured them all a cup of warm tea, acting as if there weren’t five armored men wheezing on the floor behind them.
"So, Fog Mountain," Kane started, taking a sip from his cup.
"I plan on paying your deity’s familiar a visit next month."
"A foolish errand," the Saintess warned gently.
"But if Misha’s mother sent me, I assume you cannot be talked out of it."
"Not a chance."
