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Love turns chance into destiny.

A chance encounter becomes a destined one through love. A man meets a woman and says that among the countless men and women on the continent, their meeting is like a miraculous coincidence, a destiny in itself. Though it may seem like a mere coincidence, when blessed by Philanence, it becomes destiny.

Sillan murmured with his eyes closed, “Yes, I think I know which way to go.”

The ‘Intersection of Fate’ was a spell with the power to guide one through coincidence to a destined encounter they must meet.

Originally used to match compatible couples, the spell could also reunite separated comrades when interpreted more broadly.

The issue was that both Repenhardt and Sillan were men, which made them feel quite uncomfortable about it.

“Ah, I didn’t want to use it in this way…”

Sillan scratched his head. Philanence’s love was indeed broad, not discriminating against age, gender, or any other factor. Her divine generosity even accepted gay and lesbian couples. Of course, being a goddess of beauty, the spell wouldn’t activate for a couple that looked odd to her, but this time, it seemed she was satisfied and let it pass.

In a way, it was like cheating the goddess, so Sillan did not want to use this spell unless absolutely necessary.

“Let’s go, Siris.”

Sillan started walking with a drained expression. Once the spell was activated, they just needed to walk as they pleased, and chance would help them encounter Repenhardt fatefully.

Still, knowing their destination made them feel better. The two relaxed and started talking softly.

“But Siris, you’re incredibly strong, aren’t you?”

“Because I’m a Slayer.”

“No, it’s not just that. I’ve seen another Slayer named Relsia, but Siris seems beyond that.”

“I just worked a bit harder than others. But you, Sillan, are an exceptionally high-ranking priest for your age, aren’t you?”

“Ah, that’s a bit funny………….”

As they conversed, Sillan felt a strange sentiment. She expressed his thoughts clearly, listened seriously to the other’s opinions, and sometimes harbored doubts. Despite being an elf, a slave race, it was as if he was talking to a human.

‘Is Siris an exception?’

However, Sillan had never had such a serious conversation with other elves before. While elf slaves were considered valuable, he did have a few encounters with them. But each time, it was merely to issue commands and listen to their responses. Without a point of comparison, he couldn’t tell if this was unusual or not.

Suddenly, Sillan felt an absence of desire to proceed further. As he stopped walking, Siris looked around and asked,

“Is this the place?”

It was a small square with a communal well, enclosed on all sides by the rear walls of buildings and only a few small back doors in sight – a dimly lit place.

“Yes. This is where we were pointed to.”

Sillan confidently replied. Blessed with the love of the goddess and possessing a strong faith in her, Sillan could summon divine spells with even the strangest of prayers. As such, he was certain this place was ‘the point where fate intersects.’

Indeed, it wasn’t long before they sensed someone approaching from across the square. Sillan smiled broadly at the sound of footsteps.

“Ah? Is that Repenhardt?”

However, Siris did not return the smile. Instead, she drew her scimitar. Sillan turned around in surprise.

“Siris?”

“It’s not Repenhardt.”

Taking a stance, Siris hardened her expression. She already remembered the sound of Repenhardt’s footsteps. It wasn’t because he was her master; elf hearing was so acute that they couldn’t help but memorize the distinct sounds of people’s steps, even if they didn’t want to.

A moment later, a man emerged from the dim darkness. Sillan’s expression also hardened. The man who appeared was a middle-aged man in his fifties with a sword at his waist.

The middle-aged man, Lantas, coldly smiled as he glared at Siris and Sillan.

“Found you, you kids.”

“You’ve been running around quite a bit. Made me run for the first time in a while.”

Lantas taunted them as he looked from one to the other. Then, he took out a small pouch from his waist.

“Ah, I should call the others too.”

With a flick of his thumb, the pouch launched into the air as if shot from a sling. A sinister spark of fire burst in the sky before dying down – it contained an alchemical firework concoction.

“Damn…”

Siris grimaced as she glared at Lantas. Their location had been revealed by the spark. They needed to leave this place immediately.

Glancing around at the alleyway connected to the square, Siris’s action made Lantas smirk.

“Thinking of running away? I’d advise against it.”

Indeed, turning one’s back on an enemy was not recommended. With your back turned, you couldn’t see what might be coming at you. Escape was only a viable option after having disrupted the enemy.

Siris drew her scimitar.

There was no time to waste. She had to cut down the enemy before her and escape from this place immediately!

“Haah!”

She sprinted, repeatedly kicking off the ground with her scimitar trailing behind her. In a blink, Siris closed a distance of over ten meters and raised her sword to strike. The sudden ambush caught her opponent off guard, leaving them staring blankly at the incoming blade.

A silver flash marked a long cut from Lantas’s side to his shoulder. At that moment, Siris was certain.

‘I cut him!’

But then, just when she thought she had succeeded, the enemy vanished before her eyes. What she had struck was merely an afterimage. A voice tinged with amusement came from behind her.

“You’re faster than I thought.”

‘What?!’

Startled, Siris spun around, swinging her scimitar back. But Lantas was already gone. As she widened her eyes in shock, checking the empty space behind her, the voice reached her ears again.

“Not bad for a new Slayer, huh?”

“Yikes!”

Suddenly, Lantas was behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder and murmuring smugly. Goosebumps rose on her skin as Siris tried to stab him with the blade under her arm, but it was futile. The moment she lashed out with her sword, Lantas had already moved out of her sight to somewhere else entirely.

“Seems like you’ve got some talent.”

“Haah!”

With a shout, she attempted a more complex swordplay, stabbing and then immediately turning to unleash a series of rapid strikes. She aimed where she predicted her opponent would dodge, but still couldn’t so much as graze Lantas’s clothes.

“You seem to have put in a lot of effort. Quite unusual for a slave.”

Lantas was like a mirage, circling around Siris with an utterly relaxed expression, completely devoid of any tension.

“Grrr!”

Siris clenched her teeth in humiliation.

She was a Slayer of a different caliber from the others in Elvenheim. Why else would Elvenheim persistently try to train Siris, who notoriously never listened? Even when faced with absurdly disadvantageous situations, fighting off a dozen Slayer candidates with nothing but a stick, she never backed down. If only she had been more compliant, she might have become the strongest Slayer in history, which is why Elvenheim couldn’t give up on her. Though, in the end, they failed.

Siris was confident she could defeat not only the other Slayers, but also the sword instructors and the orc gladiator guards as soon as she wielded a sword. Her only setback against Talkata was due to being unaccustomed to wielding just a dagger.

Even though she was now fully armed and wielding a familiar weapon, she found herself being toyed with by her opponent.

Even more astonishing was that her opponent had not even drawn his sword yet!

‘Who on Earth is this man!?’

Meanwhile, Sillan watched the duel with a surprised expression.

‘Good heavens! How could such a skilled person be involved in this?’

Siris’s rapid attacks were being effortlessly dodged by the middle-aged man. It was not just simple evasion; he was skillfully avoiding the blade’s edge while maintaining distance. Such a feat could not be possible without a significant difference in skill.

‘If he’s reached such a level, he must certainly be a well-known knight or swordsman, yet he’s involved in this sordid affair?’

Sillan could not just stand by and watch. He began to recite a prayer, drawing upon his divine power.

“O Philanence…”

As he quietly recited the prayer, Sillan kept an eye on Lantas, ready to abandon the prayer and hide behind the well if any daggers were thrown his way. Surprisingly, there was no need. Reassured, Sillan continued his prayer.

“Grant your servant the courage of a lion. Let her arms, wielding the sword, be endowed with the strength of giants, let her eyes be fierce like an eagle’s, and her legs as sturdy as a bull’s, to strike down her enemies!”

Divine power surged into Siris, enveloping her entire body. Her scimitar glowed with a pink light. It was the Holy Strike, blessed by Philanence.

“What is this?”

Siris trembled in awe at the incredible power and authority wrapping around her. Sillan had boosted her strength, defense, speed, agility, and even her reflexes to overflowing levels. Even Lantas appeared genuinely surprised this time.

“How? Casting so many holy spells at once? Was he a bishop-level cleric at his age?”

Sillan exclaimed proudly.

“I was quite renowned in the southern parts of Vasily! Siris! Finish him off!”

“Yes, Sillan!”

Siris lunged forward, launching a slashing attack. With a speed unlike before, Lantas quickly retreated. The situation was no longer one where he could afford to casually circle around.

“Ha!”

The scimitar, imbued with Philanence’s sacred light, left a sparkling pink trail in the air. While Repenhardt had been a sorry sight, the situation seemed quite fitting for a beautiful elf like Siris. Of course, Siris paid it no mind.

“Ha!”

Siris continued to press Lantas. The movements of her once-illusory opponent were now clearly visible. The fatigue from moments ago vanished as if it were a lie, with her limbs moving freely in an unbelievable manner.

‘Ugh!’

Lantas was taken aback. Pink blades relentlessly targeted his vital spots, flying towards him with such precision that there was no time to evade. Eventually, he too drew his sword. The clash of blades rang out, a loud metallic noise echoing as they exchanged blows without pause. The color of steel was overlaid with a hue of pink, as the fierce light of the swords mercilessly ravaged the clearing.

‘This is ridiculous…’

Lantas clicked his tongue at Siris’s movements, which seemed possessed. The opponent who he had been merely toying with until a moment ago had transformed so drastically, likely due to receiving a divine spell. It proved how significant the protection of a powerful cleric could be in battle. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Sillan was elated.

“Well done, Siris!”

Suddenly, Lantas scowled.

“Ah, getting all lively just from playing around a bit!”

Irritably, he lowered his sword. As Siris was about to continue her attack, her pupils filled with a red flash. Her mithril scimitar broke in two, and she was sent flying backward as if hit by a carriage.

“Aargh!”

Sillan froze in his tracks.

“What…?”

It had been a single strike. Though he thought they were evenly matched, the duel had been decided by that one blow. Sillan looked at Lantas with a shocked expression.

Lantas’s sword was shining with a crimson glow.

“An Aura user?”

“Tch, to use Aura against mere Slayers…”

Lantas twisted his lips, glaring at them with displeasure. Sillan hurriedly rushed to Siris, who had fallen.

“Are you okay, Siris?”

“Ugh…”

Siris groaned as she got up. Though she staggered, it seemed she was not seriously hurt. Thanks to Sillan’s divine protection, most of the impact was absorbed, but as a consequence, all the powerful protections he had painstakingly accumulated were now gone.

“Why would an Aura user be in such a place…”

Sillan murmured in disbelief while supporting Siris. An awakened Aura user could live a respected life anywhere in the world. It was absurd for someone of such power to be deployed on a mere mission to capture elf slaves. It was like using a dragon’s breath to boil soup.

Then, one after another, figures began to emerge through the alleys around the clearing. Romad and his party had arrived late to the location upon receiving a signal. After Romad had instructed Talkata to take the fallen comrades back home, he had continued to search the streets with the remaining members. Since Lantas had intervened, there was no longer a need for the power of an orc gladiator.

Seeing Sillan and Siris, Romad shouted joyfully.

“You’ve caught them, Sir Lantas!”

Hearing that name, Sillan realized the identity of the middle-aged man.

‘That’s Lantas? The filthy perverted knight?’