“You think he’s inferior to you?” The man narrowed his eyes and raised his sword. “The Lord giveth power to the faint; and to him that hath no might he increaseth strength!” A white light enveloped his sword before sinking inside the blade, forming a series of silver words along its edge. “Stay back, my brothers! Let me handle her.”
Mary swept her gaze over the eleven men. Only the man with the sword showed any motions of fighting her. The remaining ten wore disgruntled expressions. “It’d be better for all of you to attack me at once. I’ll spend less time thrashing you that way.”
“From the way you defeated Brother Matthew, you certainly have the qualifications to be arrogant,” the man with the inscribed sword said. “However, where would our dignity go if the eleven of us besieged you all at once? Don’t think that I am looking down on you when I choose to fight you alone. In fact, this is me showing respect to your strength.” The man dashed forward, thrusting his sword towards Mary’s heart, acting as if she weren’t wearing any armor.
Mary raised her sword, aiming to flick the other man’s weapon away. However, once her sword made contact with his, she couldn’t move it at all. White lights flashed, and a few of the words inscribed on the man’s sword disappeared without a trace. His blade slide along Mary’s completely unimpeded. Right when it was about to make contact with her armor, Mary leapt backward, shrinking the space beneath her feet, retreating outside of the room in an instant. Oddly enough, the man and his sword remained in the same spot relative to Mary. His sword was still thrusting at her chest, and his posture was the same despite having traveled such a long distance in the blink of an eye. With a screech, the man’s sword pierced through Mary’s armor, losing another string of words along its edge. The blade came out the other side of her body, and a solemn expression appeared on the man’s face. He released the hilt of his sword and straightened his posture. “No one can escape from the Lord’s judgment!”
Mary snorted. Her sword was no longer stuck to the other man’s, so she thrust it forward, piercing the man’s stomach. She raised her foot and pressed it against the man’s chest, kicking while pulling to retrieve her sword. The man grunted and flew through the passage back into the room, coming to a halt once he crashed into the wall with a sickening splat. Mary exhaled and stomped forward back into the room with a sword still embedded in the left side of her chest. The men watched with horrified expressions as she grabbed its hilt and yanked it out. Surprisingly, there wasn’t a crazy spurt of blood like the men expected. Only a single drop leaked out. After a quick inspection of the man’s sword, she threw it to the ground since she couldn’t find any trace of the magical words. “Who’s next?” she asked, readying her bloody sword in front of herself.
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The ten remaining men glanced at each other. However, before any of them could step forward, the archbishop cleared his throat. “Who are you?”
Mary took in a deep breath, and a black aura leaked around her wounded chest. Her flesh wriggled and repaired itself while her armor melded back together. “I’m Mary.”
“Mary?” the archbishop asked and furrowed his brow. He sucked in his breath and swallowed. “Mary, is it?” he murmured. His gaze became unfocused as he stared at the ground. “The bloodline of Mary should’ve disappeared with the death of Jesus….” The archbishop shook his head and glared at Mary. “Why are you here?”
“I’m looking for someone,” Mary said. She lowered her sword, and the aura around her body faded. None of the men looked like they wanted to fight her. “She’s a demon: Her eyes are purple. She has black hair. And there’s lots of horns on her head.”
The archbishop frowned. “A demon has appeared?” He looked at the ten remaining men, but they looked just as confused as him. “We haven’t caught any demons. If you’re looking for her, she isn’t here.”
Mary nodded. “If you caught her with your weak skills, I would’ve been very surprised.” She ignored the grimaces on the men’s faces. “I thought that such a rich-looking building should’ve housed powerful people. Powerful people usually have lots of subordinates following them. If I seized the power, then I could command all of those people to search for her for me.”
“In order words,” the archbishop said, carefully picking his words, “you wish to work together with us?”
“Work together?” Mary asked and tilted her head. “No, that’s incorrect.” She straightened her back and narrowed her eyes. “You’ll all work under me. The weak can only follow the strong.”
The archbishop swallowed his discomfort. “I just have one more question for you. Where did you get your powers from?”
“My powers?” Mary frowned. “I suppose I got them from my uncle. He taught me everything.”
“So, it’s from your family and not granted by a devil,” the archbishop said and nodded. “As long as you’re willing to dedicate yourself to hunting devils, witches, and demons, you’ll have the full force of the inquisition behind you. We’ll do everything in our power to aid you. After all, if demons roam about our world, everyone will suffer.”
Mary raised an eyebrow. “All of you choose to submit before me?” she asked. “Some of you don’t look very happy about that.” She pointed at a few of the men standing around the shattered table. “Come, let me thrash you. Once I’m done, you’ll never want to go against me again.”
The men Mary singled out frowned. “Since the archbishop has made his stance, we’ll follow his words,” one of them said. “As long as the Lord is within your heart, we’ll follow you.”
Mary pursed her lips. “Is my sword not translating my words properly?” she asked and raised her weapon. “I said, ‘Come here for a thrashing.’” Before they could respond, Mary charged forward, sword raised.