I Returned with the Cheat Holy Sword

Strictly speaking, magical beasts weren’t as high on the danger scale as demons.
Not only were they typically weaker in raw power, but there was a massive gap in cunning between the two.

Fighting a powerful demon wasn’t just about dealing with its strength. Carlyle had seen with his own eyes how those bastards eroded humanity from the inside out.
The demons who understood human emotion also knew how to exploit it with chilling efficiency.
But, in reverse—

Creatures without emotions can be harder, in some cases. They don’t know fear.
The “Beast Raid” scenario that the Hero had mentioned happening in Yoram… was problematic in exactly that way.
In a place like Yoram—full of students with barely any combat power—if a truly powerful beast were to appear, the difficulty of preventing casualties could actually skyrocket.

So, in light of that…
Having someone like Vigil in charge of defense was deeply unsettling.
Vigil wandered through the inner halls of Yoram with his arms crossed, scrutinizing everything.

And no matter how kindly you put it, the only fitting description was: a pompous asshole made flesh.
"Is this the extent of your defensive setup?"
"...Yes."

Dean Sior replied with a crooked posture, and Vigil glanced around before continuing.
"Compared to what the Imperial Palace uses, this is painfully outdated. Is Yoram truly incapable of maintaining even basic facilities properly?"
"......"

Sior wordlessly stroked his chin with a faint smile.
For those accompanying Vigil, that gesture was nerve-wracking. No one could tell when this man might snap.
To be fair, what Vigil was saying made absolutely no sense.

Among academies, Yoram had some of the most excessive defensive structures imaginable. Of course they couldn’t compare to the Imperial Palace—but what could?
Yet this wasn’t even day one of this nonsense.
Vigil had been harassing Sior and the academy staff for days with the most absurd accusations.
From top to bottom, it was all nonsense. These days, just hearing the rumor that Vigil was roaming nearby made everyone scatter.

"Your Highness."
Sior spoke up again, his tone flat.
"May I ask what your goal is in nitpicking every little thing about our institution?"

"......"
Hmph.
As expected of Heroes—they never understand moderation when it comes to their words or actions.

Granted, Sior was older and more refined than Gray, so he spoke with more decorum and caution. But the aggressiveness was still comparable...
"It's confidential. I can't tell you."
And of course, Vigil was just as much of an asshole as ever, brushing it off without care.

"I'm here representing the royal family. Acting on behalf of the First Prince and Second Princess."
"..."
"You have a problem with that, Dean Sior?"

...Once he threw out names like that so confidently, Sior couldn’t exactly lash out.
He simply narrowed his eyes at Vigil in silence.
He didn’t object outright.

...The Dean is particularly close with the Emperor. He knows if someone of his stature starts clashing with the royal family, the consequences won’t be limited to himself.
And that bastard knows it, which is why he’s blackmailing them like this.
No better than demons, really.

Holding people’s weaknesses hostage like this...
But then, why did he mention both the Prince and Princess together?
The First Prince and Second Princess were supposed to be rivals.

Yet the way he spoke made it sound like they were cooperating.
The Holy Sword’s response was as astonishing as it was horrifying.
...They’re setting things up so that, if casualties happen, they can pin the blame squarely on the academy.

...
They've agreed on that point, it seems. This guy’s just a messenger. If something actually happens, those two will come down personally.
...Hah.

Haha.
The First Prince and Second Princess were the kind of people who’d draw blades over an apple slice—but when it came to sacrificing innocent people for political gain, they were perfectly in sync.
It’s almost laughable.

...What’s truly laughable is that this isn’t even the most outrageous part.
And right on cue, Vigil opened his mouth to prove her point.
"And Dean—don’t you have any larger rooms with oversized beds?"

"..."
"I’ll handle the women who come in, so just make sure the room is ready."
"........."

"I'm also thinking about picking out a few students. Think you could look the other way on that?"
Yeah.
This was the real problem.

Vigil Leonhardt wasn’t just scum—he was a depraved womanizer of the highest order.
Here he was, inside an educational institution, casually spewing this garbage without shame.
And fitting the rumors, his treatment of women—especially those entangled with him—was the kind you'd expect from a man who saw people as disposable.

Cracks were {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} forming in Sior’s smile.
The mask he always wore was on the verge of shattering.
"Your Highness. That’s—"

"Why so angry? If it’s not possible, then it’s not possible. No big deal."
And just like that, Vigil casually stepped back.
Which only made him more infuriating. The moment things got heated, he’d back off just enough to stay out of reach—like some smug little gremlin.

The Holy Sword’s assessment was... somehow even more shocking.
...Among the royals, this one is actually considered *reasonable.*
What?

He steps back when he senses someone is truly about to blow up. That alone sets him apart from the rest. At least he has *some* social awareness.
Which, apparently, was why both the First Prince and Second Princess had entrusted him as their liaison.
...

Carlyle had no words.
This insane aristocracy.
This guy—this unhinged, lecherous freak—was considered the sensible one, and that’s why both factions had chosen him?

"......"
Carlyle took a deep breath.
Well, to be fair, he had mentally prepared himself the moment he heard he’d be facing a royal.

As irritating as this guy was, this was all still within the bounds of what he had braced for.
He could remain calm—
"Oh, and one more thing."

Not even a second later—
Vigil turned and looked in his direction.
Specifically, he locked eyes with Vespa.

"You—come see me tonight."
"...Excuse me?"
Vespa's face went pale.

"Not for anything inappropriate, of course. I just want to discuss the schedule."
"......"
"Though I suppose... even if you're not my type, you’d probably be decent for one night—ah, forget I said that. Anyway. We’ll talk business."

Bullshit.
Asking her to come alone in the middle of the night was already loaded with bad intentions.
"........"

Gray’s face twisted into a scowl. Vespa squirmed in anxiety.
Carlyle, meanwhile, smiled.
Calmly.

Well now. Someone just crossed a line.
And not just any line.
That’s more than enough reason for a little “correction.”

...You.
...
...You there, you chaotic man.

Yes?
It was rare to see the Hero of the Holy Sword this flustered—but Carlyle answered plainly.
No, no, it’s not like I’m going to go berserk like you do. I’m not going to throw chairs or anything.

There were still rules.
Losing it and starting a fight with royalty at the top of the Empire? That was beyond foolish.
You always go far *beyond* that, and that’s why I’m worried...!

What are you talking about?
Your *face.* Your *expression.* I can already tell—you’re *not* going to let this go!
Well, true.

You couldn’t just let trash like this run wild.
Time to teach some manners.
"Miss Hero, may I step out for a bit?"

"......"
"He doesn’t seem all that interested in me, anyway."
Gray glanced over at him.

A smile spread across her lips.
"Sure. Go ahead."
...As if she already knew exactly what he was planning.

Carlyle smiled back and gave her a nod.
His stride was light—worryingly so, if you were the Holy Sword strapped to his back.
His destination?

Retty’s workshop.
"Oh, what brings you here? If it’s about the katana from last time, the repairs aren’t done—"
"No, it’s not that. I’ve got a different job for you."

"Huh? What kind?"
"A potion. Something rare. A bit tricky to make."
Given what it was supposed to do, that was understandable.

It wasn’t exactly powerful, but its effect was... uniquely twisted.
"Really? What kind of potion?"
"There’s someone I know—someone who really, really likes women."

"...Okay, and you’re telling me this because...?"
"I’d like to give him a gift."
"A gift?"

Yes, a gift.
A life lesson in the form of liquid retribution.
There was no better way to make someone understand the consequences of their actions than a little taste of their own medicine.

"Since he’s so fond of them... I figured he might want to experience what it’s like. To be one."
"...?"