The Villainess Is An SS+ Rank Adventurer

In the streets of the royal capital, celebration filled the air.

Although the sun had dipped below the horizon, those in Reitzlake found ways to defy the night. Children sat upon the shoulders of parents, holding up glowing trinkets glazed with a smudge of magic, while stallkeepers furnished their stalls with as many lanterns as could be fitted without burning down the city.

Most of all, however, were the sounds of clinking ale and laughter, for no matter how wicked Lady Umbra’s schemes, merriment was the bastion that no darkness could pierce.

In fact, only a single cloud of gloom could be seen amidst the revelry … and all of it was concentrated on the expression of a lone elven woman.

“Ughhh … ugnn … ughh …”

Wandering listlessly through the crowds, she shuffled like a lost ghoul, smacking into merrimakers, stalls, barrels, poles and occasionally walls.

Amidst all the hoodlums in Reitzlake, she stood out as the worst. Except this was no drunkard struggling to find her way to the next bar.

She was Lady Celisse of the Caedrawood.

A highly respected artisan. An incorrigible beauty. A keen fisherwoman.

And also the Saint of the End.

It was an extravagant title to match the extravagance of her magical prowess, for even amongst elves, she was held as especially talented … particularly in regards to divine magic, seen often as the most powerful of the arcane disciplines.

A rare and auspicious gift.

The elves did not follow the Holy Church as the human kingdoms did. They had their own deities to worship, most often as spirits of the woods. And they were far harder to please.

However, while the way elves and humans went about begging for power was different, both divine and holy magic achieved the same thing.

Lots of sparkly light, and sometimes the ability to conjure a loyal familiar.

As one of the most powerful elven mages, Celisse’s was especially strong.

A celestial lion capable of chewing through battlements and cake mix, Shortbread had defended the boughs of the Caedrawood just as much as the door of her atelier from customers hoping to squeeze in an order 2 minutes before closing time.

And now he was gone.

Just like that.

Shortbread had skipped away to heartier pastures.

Celisse couldn’t believe it.

She hadn’t actually been abandoned, of course. Shortbread was still her familiar no matter where he went. And him wanting to nap in exotic trees was simply feline curiosity.

But Shortbread was also highly distrusting of strangers. And as far as Celisse was concerned, there were few strangers as least trustworthy as a princess who was a mystery to even her subjects.

Yes.

The 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea.

Juliette Contzen.

A name Celisse researched in depth … and yet even after confirming she was actually a princess, all it did was make her seem even more suspicious. Despite being a member of the main line of royalty, she was all but invisible, said to be ill or permanently bed stricken.

Even so, the truth of the matter was that she was an adventurer.

And also a highly ranked one. Or so the guild claimed.

The receptionists enthusiastically confirmed there was an S-rank adventurer by her name. A stunning feat worthy of acclaim, and yet few outside of the Adventurer’s Guild had even heard of the name.

That could only mean politics. There was clearly an attempt to mask her achievements. And that meant Celisse had no idea just how capable this princess masquerading as an adventurer truly was.

… At least until she sent a man in full obsidian armour hurtling through the air.

That was the only thing saving her after the atrocious interview.

Swordsmanship wasn’t the most important thing in marriage consideration, of course. But to somehow draw upon the water of a fountain like a mage with a staff was no small thing.

Even with all her experience, Celisse didn’t know how the princess had achieved that.

She knew less how Shortbread was convinced to scamper away to a faraway tree.

She knew even less how Ophelia was seduced.

Celisse was many things, and while most of that was redacted in official documents, she was still an ordinary mother who worried for her daughter.

Granted, Ophelia didn’t usually need worrying over. She was blessed with talent, beauty and a forehead strong enough to headbutt a tree and win. She was the pride of every elven parent.

But having a strong forehead didn’t mean being invincible. And in that princess, she sensed nothing but doom.

A genuine concern.

Celisse had always wanted Ophelia to settle down someday. And that was by accepting that not everyone could stab things as well as she could.

She never once expected the answer to be finding someone far higher in status.

Someone who was also suspiciously fixated on accumulating crowns.

Like a scammer.

Except this one came in princess form.

And so Lady Celisse, Saint of the End and most prominent elf to leave the forests since her own daughter, staggered to and fro with neither direction nor will, bumping into everyone yet drawing no ire on account of how beautiful she was.

In fact, her zombie-like expression was only broken whenever a merchant referred to her as a young lady when trying to sell something. That was always a reason to perk up.

And a good thing as well.

Because in a brief moment of cognisance … what she sensed was something that whisked all thoughts of princesses from her mind.

The taint of the hells.

Something infernal had revealed its presence.

Lady Celisse … no, Magister Celisse cast her stupor aside as all her instincts came to life.

Devils were the plague upon the world, and it was in the forests that their fires burned the most. Elves thought themselves too wise to be tempted, but pride only made themselves the most fallible.

Celisse swept around on the spot, focusing her senses. She turned towards the horizon, elven eyes peering at the silhouette of a grand ship upon the moonlit lake.

And then–

“[Arcane Teleport].”

She raised her arms.

A moment later, the world became a blur as she jumped the short distance.

When she landed, it was with all her reserves of magic swirling around her, so dense that it was a barrier unto itself. She felt the sensation of a wooden deck beneath her, the breeze tickling her hair and the salt against her nose. Golden light pooled in her palms and also her very eyes.

What she saw made her blink until the magic faded away.

“... I say, good sir, this is quite unnecessary. I am beholden to prisoner rights. That includes a minimum level of dignity. And also comfort. I shall need to issue a formal complaint.”

“Shuddup. You threw us into the lake.”

“I did not throw you into the lake. That was my spectral crew, who no longer exist to implicate me. As a result, I request–oww.”

There, lying on his front, was a human man recognisable solely from the noise of disgruntlement he made as he was sat on by an ogre.

He no longer wore his golden mask, but the tone of his complaints was the same.

Especially given that Ophelia was also here.

“Psspsspsspss … come out, come out! I’ve a magical ruby necklace worth over 30,000 gold crowns! I stole it from your own castle~”

Celisse was deeply confused.

When she’d last seen Ophelia earlier today, she’d been on her rounds to secure an engagement gift to woo a princess. A thing Celisse had ceased trying to stop until she met the princess herself.

Now, however, her daughter was peering into a barrel, waving a necklace while trying to entice what sounded like a very picky cat.

Nor was she the only one to do so.

Making fewer cat beckoning noises but no less effort, the many other ogres, all in sailing livery, were flipping over tarps, peering into crates or poking tiny holes, each with the look of those tasked with locating stowaways. Or perhaps an inhabitant of the hells.

“Ooh, it’s you!” Climbing out from a hatch, the first to greet her was the clockwork doll from earlier. “The one who looks suspiciously like the Snow Dancer! That’s great! You can help us look!”

Celisse blinked in confusion.

She peered around, all the more uneasy for the infernal absence.

“Help you look? Are you searching for an intruder from the hells? I sensed its presence.”

“Yeah, us too,” said Ophelia, raising her head from the barrel. The necklace was already hidden away. “I’m 95% sure the princess was just kidnapped by a passing devil.”

The clockwork doll nodded enthusiastically.

“I’m only at 83.7%. That’s because this is a new one. Usually, it’s only her mind that’s borrowed. Or whatever the fae do. This time, she’s actually been taken away.”

Celisse was stunned.

Not at the idea that the hells would kidnap humans. Or that the princess was somehow involved. Or that this sometimes included the fae as well.

But rather … that this was done so sloppily.

Devils prided themselves on subtlety.

Outright seizing mortals in broad view of an audience was not something they either did or condoned. Not unless they had great cause to. And few things were as dangerous as a devil so desperate, bored or ambitious that they started reinterpreting the rules.

This princess … just who was she, exactly?

“Very well,” said Celisse, taking a deep breath. “... [Focusing Scry].”

She raised her palms.

Within them, magic gathered as an orb, so pristine that it offered an unblemished reflection of the stars above. Several ogres stopped to gawk, before backing away as the hint of something foul washed over it like a stain.

Celisse poured all her focus onto the lingering taint around her, so unique, so wrong that even an apprentice could easily see the threads. The world inside the orb twisted and turned as she followed the infernal trail, deeper and deeper as it swept beneath layers few would dare to pry in.

But Celisse didn’t cower from devils.

Not even if it was this one.

A devil bearing the appearance of a common human merchant.

Within the scrying orb, she frowned as she witnessed a sight recorded in the oldest archives of the Lumiere Order. An almost cozy, homely chamber filled entirely with hats of all descriptions, built in the image of a shop.

But although there were no spitting flames, that didn’t mean it lacked for peril.

Each of the hats represented a different lie for a different customer. And few were as renowned in the art of temptation than the one known as the Benefactor.

The clockwork doll leaned over, blinking as she peered into the scrying orb.

“Ooh~ that has to be the nicest corner of the hells.”

“Princess standards, huh?” said Ophelia, her tone impressed. “That’s a bunch of decent stuff.”

“Mmh, I can pretty much feel all the magic bouncing around. If those artifacts got out, there’d be maniacal laughing everywhere. A new prospective overlord on every corner.”

“Yeah, it’d be chaos. Nobody would want that. Especially since it’ll involve annoying a devil.”

“I completely agree … so how are we kicking down the door?”

Both Ophelia and the clockwork doll looked at Celisse, their expressions filled with anticipation.

It was a reaction as absurd as what was being asked.

The hells did not have doors. At most, there were only keyholes, so tiny that only the most powerful of devils knew how to navigate them. But sometimes even that wasn’t enough.

The infernal realm did not suffer visitors. And to accidentally find a breach was a nightmare few woke from.

To deliberately intrude was a spectacular decision in stupidity.

… Which was why Celisse had only done it once before.

Maybe twice.

“I can open a breach to allow the princess to escape,” she said, not allowing her thoughts to gather long enough to regret what she was doing. The solution to all of life’s greatest problems. “But it will not be inexpensive or without danger. To force entry into the hells is to draw the eyes of powers that won’t always choose ignorance. There is a possibility of … well, cosmic pushback.”

Ophelia and the clockwork doll exchanged blinks.

Then, they nodded with even greater amounts of enthusiasm.

“Done,” said Ophelia, without asking what cosmic pushback meant. “What do you need?”

“I need an archmage to magically anchor me and a host of extremely rare magical reagents sourced directly from the hells … or lacking that, I need one of you to hold me while the other gathers valuables. Whoever chooses to anchor me will be at risk of being physically dragged into the hells and immediately met with a tide of bloodthirsty demons. Whoever fetches things just needs to locate items of high material value to be consumed. One is a lot more dangerous than the other.”

A moment of silence passed.

And then–

“Rock, paper, scissors, go!!”

Ophelia groaned. The clockwork doll raised a winning ‘paper’ in triumph.

Even so, Celisse was quietly relieved. There was nobody she trusted more to keep her anchored in place than her daughter. With her by her side, she had no doubt the spell would be successful.

Pwooosh.

… Which was why she was both confused and mortified when Ophelia immediately abandoned her, jumping overboard into the cold lake with a splash.

“Alrighty~!” said the clockwork doll, rolling up her sleeves. “Where do I hold you?”

“Excuse me?”

“I won rock, paper, scissors.”

“... The winner gets the possibility of being dragged into the hells?”

“It’ll be so much fun! I’m going to get loads of smoothie ingredients!”

Celisse blinked as she took stock of the clockwork doll’s bright smile.

There wasn’t a hint of concern there.

She had no idea what the euphemism for smoothie ingredients were. But it was clear that the princess inspired loyalty if her subjects were willing to brave the very hells for her. Clearly, there was something about her which earned the trust of others.

Even Shortbread’s.

“You can hold my legs,” she said, allowing her scrying orb to float before her. “And if you hear anything that sounds really bad, don’t worry. That’s perfectly normal.”

“Ahahaha~ no worries! Problems only happen when everything’s going fine. That’s why in Ouzelia every hero party includes someone who is a clear detriment and liability to the team.”

Celisse didn’t know how to respond to that. Mostly since it made perfect sense.

Pwish.

But also because she had to dodge the wet sack tossed high into the air.

Breaking the water’s surface somewhere, Ophelia delivered what appeared to be a sack filled with crowns and jewellery. The contents spilled onto the deck for the ogres to helpfully mop into a pile.

Celisse hoped there would be more … since it was clear that if things went pear-shaped, it would be more than all the demons a single devil could command.

Instead, it would be all that two could.

Just as Celisse swept her arms out, weaving the first strands to a spell she really didn’t enjoy casting, she watched with no small amount of concern as a section of the emporium’s wall came down.

What came forth was something even worse than the Benefactor.

After all, she was a mother.

And she knew perfectly well the destruction a girl still in her growing years could cause.

… She just didn’t know that this applied to a princess more than a devil.

Because as Celisse eyed the proceedings with increasing alarm, knowing she’d need to hurry the spell even before Ophelia had finished excavating a lake filled with treasure, the drops of sweat falling down her temple went from concern for who would feed Shortbread to concern for her eyes.

Her spellwork danced around her figure like wisps surrounding an elderwood tree. She’d become a beacon brighter than any bonfire in summer.

And yet somehow, the princess shone even brighter still.

Celisse’s jaw went slack.

Far from requiring escape, the princess only needed those darkened spectacles mages often sold for inflated prices during magical displays … even if this wasn’t magic bursting through the ceiling and filling the devil’s emporium.

It was pure, unadulterated light.

A radiance capable of sweeping aside all the darkness, leaving nothing but life and redemption in its wake, as though the heavens had driven all their retribution into a single corner of the hells, smiting all that was wicked.

Except that it wasn’t.

Celisse could see it clearly … or rather, she could see what was absent.

There was no angel or goddess that had the authority to pierce the infernal realms, after all.

That light pouring through into the chamber had no divine properties whatsoever.

Rather, if she had to describe it … then it was more like the light of a thousand stars, all peering through a telescope and burning what peered back.

It was something else entirely. And it had been brought forth solely by a princess’s will.

Celisse watched with her mouth wide, almost forgetting the intricacies of her spell.

However, as she watched the light fade and eyed all that remained of the chamber, she knew already what she had to do after helping the princess return.

She nodded as she came to a decision.

It was something of the utmost importance … and only a mother-in-law could do it.