Casino Wizard

The holy vestment of the saintess was soon stained with blood.

“Ugh… cough.”

Thwip.

The saintess spat out the blood she had been holding in, making a strange noise. Then, she wiped the blood and saliva from her lips with her sleeve.

No matter how twisted the situation was, she was still the saint.

It was right for her to maintain at least some dignity.

But, dignity?

Did she really still have any?

“Hah.”

The saint bit her split lips and looked around.

It seemed like she decided there was no need for spectators anymore, as the number of clergymen had decreased.

Well, what were those people even to her? They were not her sisters.

In truth, they hadn’t been on particularly friendly terms. For the past five years, the saintess had been holed up in the Holy Kingdom of the Goddess Gaia.

‘Still, I am the saintess.’

The servant most beloved by the goddess Gaia.

A symbol of the church that even cardinals dared not treat carelessly.

But no one helped her.

She was unilaterally beaten by the wizard Hyden, insulted, and even when they dug into her past under the pretext of a revelation, everyone turned a blind eye, as if they believed Hyden’s words.

Thwack!

At this moment, the saintess’s cheek was slapped again.

The blood scattered in the air and a sharp pain followed.

Blinking, the saintess looked forward. The wizard Hyden was glaring at her as if she was pathetic.

“We’re explaining the rules. You should listen.”

“Dice?”

“Yeah. We throw three dice, and the number we get determines the hierarchy.”

“Uh…”

“But you’re alone, and we’re four. However, you’re always the one who goes first. There’s no stake, but the rule is that the winner gets to slap the loser once.”

Slap? The saintess blankly nodded, unaware.

Then the explanation about the hierarchy continued.

Pinzoro. 1, 1, 1.

Arashi. All three dice show the same number (excluding 1, the range is 2-6).

Shigoro. 4, 5, 6.

There were also terms like “eye present,” “no eyes,” and “Hifumi”…

The names were hard to remember, but she could generally understand.

After all, there were many similar dice games. There was dice baccarat, dice blackjack, and the like.

The saintess, whose mind had been numbed by the beating, understood. She could understand, but…

“Here? Now? With dice?”

“Yeah. Let’s finish this with that.”

Is this really reality?

The saintess blankly stared at the dice in her hand.

Three old, shabby dice.

In a situation like this, dice?

Was this really a game? Or was there something else going on? What would happen if she rolled the dice? And instead of a stake, they were slapping each other? She wasn’t a child, so what kind of ridiculous game was this?

“Hyden. W-wait. Can we talk this through?”

It wasn’t Hyden who answered her awkward question.

“Roll them.”

“Huh?”

“I heard you are always first. If you roll a result of Shigoro or higher, it means you win and I won’t get a turn.”

The shield knight Jerome was standing in front of her.

A towering figure, his face resembling a bronze statue, and despite being a vanguard in the hero party, he had a blood phobia.

She had openly disregarded him when they were working together.

But now, for some reason, she felt fear.

“Sir Jerome…”

“You’ve spilled some blood. Honestly, I’m also uncomfortable with the blood you’ve spilled. My heart is racing, and I feel nauseous. If I hadn’t drunk some alcohol and applied mint beneath my nose, I wouldn’t even be able to face you.”

“W-well…”

“In fact, I’m still holding back.”

The voice of the shield knight, slightly eerie, made the saintess realize.

‘He said if you lose, you have to get hit.’

This wasn’t a friendly game to catch up with old comrades; it was a means of revenge. It wasn’t just about hitting her—it was probably taking the form of a game to make it more torturous.

Curious as she was, the saintess had no time to think.

“Roll them. Again, I’ll remind you that you’re always first.”

Reluctantly, the saint dropped the three dice.

She wasn’t sure if it was something to rejoice in, but her first roll was too good.

“…6, 6, 6.”

“From the start, Arashi. You win, Saintess. Now slap me.”

“Must you really…”

“Saintess, whether you like it or not, you must.”

Slap.

The saintess weakly slapped her palm across the shield knight’s face.

He didn’t even flinch.

And then, more dice.

“3, 3, 6. Now, it’s my turn.”

“Wait.”

“I rolled 1, 4, 5. You win again. Go ahead, slap me.”

She slapped the shield knight’s face again, though weakly.

It was a light tap, not a punch.

After all, even if the saint really tried to hit him, it wouldn’t have any effect on the shield knight. So, she had to slap as gently as possible to show she had no intention of fighting and to make it clear that she wanted this cruel game to end.

Please, understand me.

Thwip.

Slap.

The saintess won again, making it four times in a row.

Eventually, the moment came.

“Ah…”

“This time, I won, Saintess.”

Saint: 2, 4, 5.

Shield: 5, 5, 6.

The shield knight won with the “eye present” result (two of the dice showing the same number).

The saintess felt overwhelmed but forced a smile.

Surely, the one who’s smiling can’t be hit, right? She hoped so.

She had already taken a beating from the wizard earlier.

But the shield knight was on a whole different level.

‘If I get hit wrong by him, I could die.’

The saintess smiled pitifully and looked at the shield knight.

But whether she smiled or not, the shield knight calmly removed his gauntlets.

“Saintess, I know I’m lacking.”

“Huh?”

“That’s why I’ve done my best. I’ve carried mint-soaked cotton swabs with me, blocking the scent of blood when necessary. I’ve even worn glasses made of crystal, as recommended by the wizard. I’ve sought help from an adventurer who could create an illusion with magic.”

“Wh-what?”

“A little bit of it worked. I thought I might be able to make up for it one day.”

More digging into the past.

The saintess wanted to silence the shield knight, but she couldn’t.

He was already loosening his huge hands. It seemed like he was ready to strike her skull with full force.

“But your malice ruined my efforts.”

“Ugh…”

“Six years ago, at the banquet held by Baron Kirikela. I was trying to relax and enjoy myself, since we were relatives. Then suddenly, a traditional dish from the empire’s frontier appeared—soup made from a type of root vegetable. I didn’t want to show my embarrassing side, so I held it in and fainted.”

“Sir Jerome, I…”

“When I came to, what did you say, Saintess? You said you were sorry for failing to help me with the treatment, didn’t you?”

The prank she had played to warn the hero turned Jerome into a joke in front of his relatives.

It was true that his blood phobia worsened after that.

But it was all in the past. It was just a warning.

“I tried to forget it.”

“Ugh…”

“And now, I realize that it was all part of your deliberate plan. It’s making me angry again, but I’ll forgive you. Just one slap.”

It was inevitable now.

The saintess hurriedly crossed her arms and shielded her face.

She was trying to protect her face at least.

But the shield knight wasn’t aiming for her face in the first place.

Wham!!

“Cough!”

She felt as if a hot rod pierced through her stomach.

The shield knight’s fist landed on the saint’s lower abdomen.

The saintess’s body bounced off the ground, rolling.

“…!”

The pain wasn’t just pain—it felt like her internal organs were being twisted.

Something must have ruptured, and she felt like several ribs had cracked. He probably didn’t mean to kill her, but he certainly hadn’t held back much.

The saintess writhed in agony, occasionally making choking sounds.

“Cough… Ah…”

While she was struggling, unable to even use healing magic due to the intense pain…

“…Blessed blood of the saintess, heal the suffering.”

A quiet prayer was heard, and the pain slowly began to subside.

It wasn’t at the saint’s level, but it was still relatively high-tier holy magic.

As her mind slowly returned, the saintess heard a familiar voice.

“…Thank you, Bishop Batalia. I’ll tell Jerome to leave now.”

“By the way, Hyden. Did you hear the revelation the hero received?”

“The hero said that it seemed to show a piece of the truth. It felt like a revelation from pity for the hero. I think it might have been because the hero decided to undertake the Demon Realm pilgrimage themselves. That’s my guess.”

“That makes sense.”

The conversation between the bishop, who seemed to have healed her, and that disgusting wizard reached her ears.

Revelation? What revelation?

Now they were almost accepting it as fact.

And they were even implying that the saint had some kind of motive for tormenting her comrades. While she had intended to break up the party back then, it was too much for them to bring it up now. Something else was odd too.

The hero had decided to undertake the Demon Realm pilgrimage? That cowardly peasant?

The saintess was completely confused. She had no idea what was real anymore.

“Sister. Wake up.”

The voice calling the saintess, who had just recovered from the pain, was that of the female archer.

Before, she had shown hostility, but now her tone was almost friendly. The smile on her cute face didn’t offer any comfort.

“It’s my turn now?”

“Ugh…”

At this point, the female archer only wanted to play the dice game.

This never-ending, terrifying game.

…

Please, stop.

The saintess only wanted to stop getting hit. That was all she could think of.

“unnie, I won again.”

After playing forty rounds with the female archer, the saintess felt her head spinning and recalled one thought.

It was now the female archer’s turn, but she couldn’t bring herself to throw the dice.

Maybe… yeah. If she just kept getting hit without the dice, maybe it would end sooner than she thought?

The ridiculous thought crossed her mind. Hit, heal, hit, slap, hit… repeating this maddening cycle might drive her insane.

‘I can’t take it anymore.’

With her arms hanging limply, the saint heard Hyden’s voice.

“Theodora. If you roll Pinzoro, you can end the game. Keep rolling.”

“…?”

“Pinzoro. 111.”

Pinzoro. The highest hierarchy, where all three dice show 1.

It wasn’t something that came up easily.

Hyden smugly added that the probability of rolling Pinzoro was 1 in 216. That was how rare it was.

But to the saintess in her current state, it sounded like hope.

It meant it would eventually end.

If she just rolled 200 times, maybe she could end this suffering. Maybe even sooner.

“Pinzoro.”

The saintess’s eyes, though faint, regained some focus.

She reached for the dice, fumbling, and threw them.

And she prayed.

Pinzoro, please come. Pinzoro, it must come, Goddess, please Pinzoro.

Please.

“Pinzoro!! Pinzoro!! Pin-! Zo-! Ro!!”

Stamping her feet and shouting, tears ran down the saintess’s face.

But Pinzoro didn’t come.