CHAPTER 78: PERKS OF BEING THE SWORD SAINT

What was the bet?

It was simple.

After they had destroyed the bandit hideout, Steven had sworn with absolute certainty that his daughter was alive.

His conviction had been so strong, so unshakable, that Azel couldn’t resist needling him with a wager.

Even though he knew she was alive, after all what kind of man didn’t take advantage of a rich man?

Whoever finds her first takes the winnings.

The prize? A mountain of gold.

And now, standing before everyone, Azel had just cashed in.

"I’m just cashing in on my win like any other gentleman," Azel said with a chuckle, adjusting his shirt with deliberate arrogance. "Be thankful that I didn’t double it — I was feeling generous today."

Steven exhaled heavily, his massive shoulders sagging as if this loss weighed more than all the years he carried on his back.

Azel, meanwhile, looked positively smug.

Between this fat pouch of gold and the handsome "gift" the Emperor had handed him before his departure, Azel was, for the first time in his life, absurdly rich.

So rich he didn’t even know what to do with it.

Steven turned away from him with a look that was part defeated, part fond.

His eyes softened as they landed back on his daughter.

"We had made a bet on who would find you first," he admitted quietly, voice low and rough, "but you’re worth so much more than gold. I’m just... glad we were able to find you at all."

The words, spoken with such unguarded sincerity, washed over the room like a wave.

Emilia’s lips trembled for a moment before she rolled her eyes — though it didn’t hide the faint smile tugging at her mouth.

"Trust Azel to use me as an excuse to fleece you for gold," she muttered, though her voice was warm.

Azel just raised his hands innocently, smirking. "I mean, you are priceless... but that doesn’t mean I won’t profit along the way."

"You—!" she huffed, cheeks puffing.

Steven chuckled faintly at the exchange, though his eyes shimmered again as he turned his attention toward the others.

"Now," he said, his tone suddenly formal, "please — show me to the people who have taken care of my daughter all this while."

Emilia immediately motioned toward Hilda and Elga, who were sitting stiffly as though the entire situation had paralyzed them.

The moment Steven’s gaze fell on them, both women froze in place, unable to so much as breathe.

The Sword Saint walked forward slowly.

Then, to their utter shock, he dropped to one knee.

Both women’s jaws fell open.

The Sword Saint — one of the strongest living humans, a legend that could shape history with a single swing of his sword was kneeling before them.

"I thank you," Steven said, his voice rough but steady.

His hands clenched tight as if barely containing his emotions. "From the bottom of my heart. If you had not found my daughter... I would never have seen her again. I owe you a debt greater than any words can repay. Please, if there is anything... I mean anything within my power, I will grant it to you."

Elga and Hilda scrambled up from their seats, flustered beyond belief.

"P-please, there’s no need for this!" Elga stammered, her hands flailing as she tried to help him up. "She was... she became like a daughter to us as well! We could never stand by and do nothing."

"Exactly," Hilda added quickly, though her voice trembled. "We’re just... glad she’s safe. That’s all that matters."

But Steven wasn’t the type to let debts go unpaid.

Even as they protested, he flicked his hand and, with a shimmer of light, several large sacks of gold materialized and thudded onto the floor.

The weight of them made the wooden boards creak.

The women gawked.

"It’s not much," Steven said, bowing once more. "But please — accept it. And if you ever need anything more, you need only ask."

Elga’s lips quivered as her hands shook.

This was too much.

She wanted to refuse — yet who in their right mind would refuse such a gift?

And more importantly, who would dare refuse the Sword Saint when he insisted?

But then she gritted her teeth, an odd fire sparking in her eyes.

With sudden resolve, she grabbed Steven by the front of his shirt.

Everyone froze.

"Sorry, Mr. Sword Saint," Elga said firmly, though her voice cracked under the weight of her own audacity, "but my favor... is that Emilia stay here."

Steven blinked, stunned.

Elga continued, forcing the words past her pounding heart.

"I know you want to bring her back. But she goes to school here. She has a life here. Friends, family... us. So please — don’t take her away."

The room went silent. Everyone braced themselves.

Even Hilda grabbed Elga’s arm as if trying to stop her before she went too far.

Was she trying to separate a father and daughter that had newly reunited?

But then Steven... smiled.

"Oh, I already know," he said softly. "I wasn’t planning on moving her out. I was planning to move in."

The words hit like a thunderclap.

Everyone’s eyes went wide.

"What?!" Emilia squeaked, staring at her father in disbelief.

Steven chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck almost sheepishly.

"Well, I didn’t know if you would allow an old man like me to intrude," he said, though there was mischief in his eyes. "So I thought I’d simply head to the church and check whether my abode here is still mine."

Azel’s jaw dropped slightly. Then it clicked.

"Oh, right..." he muttered.

The Sword Saint — being the Sword Saint had a residence in every single major city and town in the Empire.

A gift from the people, from the nobility, from the Empire itself.

Just because he was who he was.

A living legend.

’I might need to inherit that title someday,’ Azel thought dryly.

The perks alone made it worth it.

Steven, meanwhile, walked over to him again.

The two men locked eyes — one with the serene calm of experience, the other with the reckless spark of youth.

"There’s something else," Steven said quietly, reaching into his coat.

He pulled out a sealed letter and pressed it firmly into Azel’s hand.

Azel raised a brow. "What’s this?"

"The Winters clan," Steven said. "They’ve invited you to the Winter Region."

The words rang heavy in the air.

Azel stared at the envelope in his palm, his expression unreadable.