The battlefield was a ruin, much more than when we started this battle, luckily I confirmed earlier that the ill gotten wetware were still untouched inside of a warehouse that was far from here but even if they got destroyed it wouldn't matter as that was an acceptable outcome to letting them fall into enemy hands, not that I had much time to worry about that now.
*Crack!* *SZZZZT!*
Smoke and embers choked the air, and the once-sturdy structures of the anchorage lay in shattered heaps. The scent of blood and burnt metal hung thick, a grim testament to the carnage that had unfolded.
And at the center of it all, the thing that was once Cynthia stood snarling with rabid fury.
"GRAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!"
A monstrous howl split the air as she lunged at me, her grotesque, twisted form hurtling forward with terrifying speed. Saliva dripped from her jagged maw, her bloodshot eyes wild with unbridled rage. Her grotesquely overgrown arm, thick as steel beams and packed with inhuman strength, swung downward in a devastating pounce—seeking to crush me beneath its weight.
""ARGH!""
Every nerve in my body screamed in agony, but I moved.
Time slowed to a crawl as my enhanced reflexes kicked in, my battered form barely twisting away from the crushing impact.
*BOOOOOM!*
An explosion of debris and dust blasted skyward as Cynthia's attack connected—not with me, but with the earth itself. Entire buildings crumpled under the force, reduced to little more than pulverized rubble in an instant. The sheer shockwave sent cracks splintering outward, the very ground trembling beneath the monstrous might she now wielded.
""...!""
I didn't stop to gawk.
""B-blade...""
Ignoring the pain, ignoring the tar-like blood dripping from my mouth, I surged forward—my tattered cloak billowing behind me, the once-pristine black fabric now riddled with gashes, stained with soot and grime. My mask, still concealing my face, had not emerged unscathed either; a deep fracture ran along its lower half, exposing the edge of my jaw—bloodied lips pressed into a tight, unyielding line.
((I need my blade...))
I thought turning my eyes towards the corpse of my slain enemy, still pinned to the ground with my sword.
Harold's corpse still lay ahead, my sword—"Mumei"—buried deep in his chest, no longer sizzling, its heat long since extinguished by the very blood that had once pumped through his veins.
"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGHHHHHH!!!!"
Cynthia roared behind me, already giving chase, her monstrous form tearing through everything in her path. Wooden beams crumpled like paper. Concrete shattered like brittle glass. Nothing stood in her way—she obliterated everything, driven by nothing but pure, unfiltered rage.
But I was faster.
I dashed toward Harold's body, hand outstretched, fingers tightening around the hilt of my waiting blade.
And just as my grip closed around it—
The ground shook.
And the beast was right behind me.
I didn't hesitate, for it would've been the end of me if I did...
""GAAAAAAAAAARRRRGGGHHH!!!""
*SCLIP!*
*SHING!*
In a single motion, I pulled the blade out of Harold's corpse, whipped around, "Mumei" slicing through the air in a deadly arc. The mutated Cynthia's massive, clawed hand was already descending—a monstrous blur of muscle, blisters, mutated flesh and destruction seeking to hammer me into the earth.
The moment my blade connected—
*SCHLIKT!*
A single severed finger spun through the air, dark crimson ichor spraying in an arc as it landed with a sickening *thud!*.
*BOOOOOOOM!*
Even with the deflection, the sheer force of her attack did not simply vanish. No—it erupted. The very air shuddered from the impact. The anchorage, already crumbling, convulsed under the violent shockwave that followed. Entire buildings collapsed in on themselves, support beams snapping, walls crumbling like sandcastles under a tidal wave.
""GU-!""
The vibrations slammed through my sword and into my body like a hammer against brittle glass. A jolt of agony lanced through my left arm, rattling every bone, every tendon. It felt like someone had driven a metal spike through my nerves, sending ripples of pain detonating through my shoulder and down my spine.
Harold's corpse had been utterly obliterated by the force of monster Cynthia's blow turning into a fine red smear over the ground with bits and pieces of him and his clothing here and there.
""Tch—!""
I skidded backward from the sheer force, boots digging trenches into the rubble-strewn ground. My grip on "Mumei" nearly faltered—but I held on. I had to hold on.
"WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!"
Cynthia shrieked, a guttural, monstrous, high-pitched screech of rage and pain that sounded like something a bat would let out as she reared back, clutching the jagged stump where her severed finger once was.
But her fury far outweighed her pain. Her body twitched, muscle bulging, veins writhing like something was alive beneath her warped flesh. The wound I inflicted was already closing, grotesque regeneration kicking in as bone reforged followed by mutated flesh clothing it leaving only the claw exposed.
"GRRRRR!"
Her glowing, bloodshot eyes snapped back to me.
She lunged.
No pause. No hesitation. No thought beyond "kill".
And I—
I forced my battered body to move.
*BOOOOM!* *KRRAAAAAASSSSHHH!* *SHING!* *SQLECH!* *CRACK!* *CRACK!* *BOOM!*
""UGH!...GAH!""
Every step was agony. Every breath felt like fire burning through my ribs. The gashes across my torso throbbed, raw and seeping, and the violent tremors from every one of the beast's attacks had left my left arm numb with pain as it lingered on the edge of tearing, unraveling at the seams.
*SHING!*
A claw swipe from her smaller right arm barely grazed me by a few millimeters, tearing up my already tattered cloak and drawing fresh black blood.
*CRASH!*
Another building was bisected by the claw swipe infused with violet Prana, a piece of it falling off cleanly like sliced meat and hitting the ground kicking up more dust and smoke.
""Ugh!...""
*Thwip!*
Trying to distract her I fired my tether bolt at her eyes, hoping to at least blind her momentarily but.
*Crack!* *EEE!* *SNAP!*
Like before the beast's head snapped back before her maw opened wide and bit on the bolt mid air severing the connecting cable and shattering the bolt with her shark like bite.
""Tch-!""
I severed the cable from my wrist mounted launcher too, not wanting it to be used against me.
""ARGH!""
My enhanced reflexes, usually sharp enough to slice through the chaos of battle with it's ability to alter my perception of time, lagged—just slightly, just barely. But even the slightest slowdown against an opponent like this could be fatal, and I was beginning to slow in more ways than one...
"GAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!"
The beast was still coming, it was relentless with an unnatural pool of stamina that I couldn't see the bottom of.
"GRAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"
The monster roared, saliva frothing from her fanged maw as she charged, each monstrous step shaking the earth beneath her. Her massive clawed arm swung out in a horizontal sweep, the sheer force behind it enough to pulverize steel.
*CLANG!*
I twisted my body at the last second, angling "Mumei" to catch the blow, redirecting it downward. The impact rattled through my bones, my feet skidding against the cracked ground—but I was already moving, shifting my weight to counter.
""Hyaah!""
A downward strike—aimed for her wrist, drawing blood.
""Hah!""
A glancing cut to her shoulder, more blood spilled in spurts.
*CLANG!*
""Gah!""
A diagonal slash—deflected at the last moment by a sudden, wild backhand swing from her smaller clawed arm.
She was adapting.
Through every wound I inflicted—every gash, every severed piece of flesh—she kept coming, the relentless tide of her power, speed, and sheer ferocity forcing me onto the backfoot. No matter how many times my blade met her flesh, no matter how many times I drew darkened blood, she just. Wouldn't. Stop.
And worse—she was catching up to me.
Even with my Prana blazing, even with my skills and techniques, her monstrous speed was pushing me back. Blow after blow. Strike after strike. Our battle tore through the anchorage like a hurricane, leveling structures in our wake.
Worst of all…
"Gaaaaah! Gu-! Ack!"
Multiple small wounds were rapidly appearing on my body from her attacks.
*BOOM!*
A steel tower collapsed as a swipe from her was redirected with my blade, her claws tearing straight through its supports.
*CRASH!*
A shipping container exploded into shrapnel as I barely slipped past her charge, her body slamming through it like it was made of paper.
*SHING!*
My blade sliced across her thigh—deep, but not enough. Never enough.
I needed a new plan...
((This isn't working...maybe running until she tires out will work?))
I turned, sprinting toward the nearest structure, my boots hammering against the ground. A warehouse—barely standing, half its walls torn apart from our battle.
But it was enough. Enough to put something between me and the monster for even a moment.
With a sharp inhale, I leapt, crashing through a shattered window. Glass sprayed around me as I rolled onto the warehouse floor, pushing forward without stopping. I hurdled over rusted crates, darted between corroded support beams—anything to force her to slow down, to navigate instead of simply charging.
"RRRRRAAAAGGGHH!"
But Cynthia—she didn't slow. She didn't care.
*CRACK!* *CRASH!*
With a single monstrous heave, her clawed hand plowed into the building's side, tearing through steel and concrete with horrifying ease. Walls crumpled. Pillars snapped like twigs. Everything between us was simply ripped away.
""Mothefu-! Does this b*tch EVER tire?!""
I cursed, vaulting over another stack of debris, racing for the opposite end of the warehouse. I spotted another window—my exit. If I could just—
*SHATTER!*
I burst through it, landing hard on the pavement outside.
And then—
*BOOM!*
The wall behind me erupted.
Cynthia crashed through the building like a runaway train, her massive form smashing through concrete, debris exploding outward in all directions. The impact alone sent a shockwave through the ground, knocking me back several steps as I had to weave my agonized broken body to dodge the flying pieces of the building flying at me like giant bullets.
((Sh*t! That was close!))
I barely caught myself, sliding into a defensive stance.
""Tch—!""
((Options...what are my remaining options?!))
My mind raced, parsing through a dozen different scenarios.
"Death by a thousand cuts" wasn't going to work, either my stamina would run out before her regeneration does or I'll be caught lacking since both my body and mind are slowing down from exhaustion, a SINGLE hit WILL kill me without a shadow of a doubt. I could wound her, but I couldn't put her down with attrition alone.
And as I've already seen I can't outrun her until she burns out either since right now PHYSICALLY she is both faster and more enduring than me, I'm only BARELY keeping up with my failing reaction speed, and once that finally fails as well I'm cooked.
I needed space to breathe...
I needed time to re-strategize...
But first—
((I need to get some breathing room...))
I thought looking to my right before...
A clawed hand emerged from the smoke and debris like a missile, lunging for my throat—
I twisted, "Mumei" flashing up in another last-second parry that has become a deadly routine at this point.
*BOOOOOOOM!*
The impact shattered the ground beneath me, my boots sinking a bit under the cracked stone.
But—
That was enough.
*SQUELCH!* *CRACKLE!* *POP!*
""Heh...about damn time""
For the first time in a very long while I think I smirked, or at least the corner of my lips moved up a few millimeters I honestly didn't have the time to linger on it.
In that single instant, the smallest of moments, my right arm had finally finished regenerating.
Time to use it.
As Cynthia recoiled slightly from the parry, I shifted my stance, my sword hand holding firm—while my newly healed right arm flared with power, the sensations returning to my fingers like searing electric shocks as I made a particular hand sign.
""Take a hike you rabid mutt...""
I muttered as arcane sigils burned to life at my fingertips.
Mana coalesced, raw force condensing into a singular point. A build-up of pure kinetic energy, a spell designed for one purpose—
"RRRRRRRRRR!!!"
Cynthia snarled, her mutated body lunging forward again—
Too late.
(([Concentrated Impact]))
*FWOOOOM!*
A shockwave erupted from my palm. A blast of raw force, a violent, concussive pulse that detonated outward like a cannon blast.
*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!*
Cynthia was blasted backward, her massive form hurled through the air before she hit another building in the distance, smashing through concrete, pipes, and rebar like a mutant-shaped cannonball. The building shuddered, before finally collapsing in on itself, swallowing her in a cloud of dust and debris.
For the first time in this entire fight—
I had room to breathe.
""HAAAA~ HAAAA~""
I staggered back, each breath like broken glass in my lungs, my body screaming in pain at every little twitch. My muscles ached. My bones throbbed. My right arm, though regenerated, still tingled with phantom pain. My entire form was fraying at the edges, exhaustion gnawing at me like a starving beast.
But there was no time. Cynthia was still alive. I had to make her not so before she does the same to me.
((Okay…options NOW!))
I forced my mind to steady, to cut through the pain and the chaos.
(([Moment of Truth]? No, I haven't claimed enough lives in direct combat. Harold was the only true battle kill—the rest were assassinations. The spell wouldn't trigger. [Form Release]? Absolutely not! In this state, I couldn't bear the side effects of [Warp Form]—not without crippling myself beyond recovery))
My mind ran a marathon through all of my options, squeezing out every possibility I had available.
((Nihilomancy?...))
I hesitated.
((No! I can't afford to incur [Oblivion Rot]. Not now. Not when I am already barely holding myself together. Undoing the existence of a physical being would take significantly more out of me than simply erasing magic. The rot would devour me on a mental, physical and spiritual level...))
I gritted my teeth.
None of my best options were viable, not without incurring crippling or straight up fatal consequences.
Which meant…
((Raw magic it is...))
I had made my decision, stabbing Mumei's nearly broken blade into the ground before I began.
""Haaaaaaa~""
Letting out a breathe I steadied myself putting my two hands up facing each other in front of my torso.
And the world answered...
*WHOOOSH!* *WHOOOSH!*
A storm roared to life above me, swirling violently as the sky itself churned dark clouds in response to the unbridled force I was about to unleash. The winds howled, forming a spiraling cyclone that lifted me into the air, black and purple lightning crackling through the sky. The air was thick with tension, the atmosphere bending under the sheer pressure of arcane power.
""Answer my call...""
I spread my arms wide, almost in a gesture of embrace to the storm.
*ZZZZT!* *CRACKLE!* *BOOM!*
""AAAAARGH!!!!""
Lightning crackled, snapping between my hands like twin Tesla coils, searing my skin with every violent arc. The pain was unbearable. Excruciating. But I didn't stop. I couldn't stop.
*ZZZZT!* *CRACKLE!* *BOOM!*
Black lightning coiled around me, raw and untamed, surging with unstable energy. The air hummed with power, the sheer force of it vibrating through my bones. My Mana flared in violent bursts, colliding with the electromagnetic storm I was shaping. The sky itself darkened, as if recoiling from the unnatural energy I had summoned.
"RURGH?"
Cynthia—
Cynthia was still moving.
Through the dust. Through the rubble. She emerged once more, her grotesque, twisted form barely resembling anything human anymore. Her fangs gnashed together in mindless rage. Her beast-like muscles tensed, her warped limbs digging into the earth as she crouched low. Her bloodshot eyes locked onto me, filled with nothing but murder.
Then she charged...
"GRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!"
A rabid, feral thing. Pure instinct. Pure hatred.
Despite noticing the arcane change crackling in the air the mindless frenzied beast still charged in my direction.
Her monstrous form tore through the battlefield, obliterating anything in her way. Walls crumbled. Leftover debris flipped and shattered in her wake. The ground itself split beneath her as she closed the distance, her massive arm raised, claws gleaming, poised to tear me apart.
""Haaaaa~""
I exhaled.
And then—
(([Dual Dragon Lightning]))
The storm answered my desire to obliterate my enemy.
The black lightning coiling between my hands expanded, transformed—splitting into two massive, roaring dragon heads, their forms composed of pure, crackling electricity. They opened their massive maws, arcs of plasma bursting from between jagged fangs, their eyes burning with destructive intent.
"R̸̠̗͓̽̎͝À̷͖͐A̶̜̠̽́Â̵͙͓̌Ǎ̷͚̻̃A̶͎̱͒͛̚Ä̵̭̗ͅȦ̴͙À̸̳̖͂̀Å̷̡͈̍̕͝A̷̭̹͊Ą̴̫̖̏͂͋͝A̷͇̺̿͒Ä̷̹͕͍́À̶̠̩̰A̴̳͐A̷̬̙͙̾Ȃ̶̗̠̭̽͌͘A̶̟͔̻͗̌͑͜͝A̸̘̔̽A̴̱͚̪̲̅̓͝Ḁ̶̫̑À̸̮͎̟G̵̛̬̻̜͋̀G̴̦̪͊̆͘G̸̮̎̊̑͝G̶̦̒͗̚͝G̷͉͆̃̉H̶̤̻̰͂̈́́ͅH̴̖͗͒̊͜H̵̙̼̒́̀̎H̶̰̞͓̰͑H̵̫̙̲̔̈́͝H̶̛̜͋H̴͉͛͑̈́͜"
They roared.
And they descended upon the frenzied Cynthia.
The twin dragons of pure lightning streaked downward, a blinding surge of power that split the heavens. The very air screamed as they surged toward their target, leaving behind crackling afterimages of black and purple energy.
"Ra-"
Cynthia had no time to react.
The lightning hit her.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!"
The beast screamed—a sound so raw, so filled with agony, that it rattled through the entire battlefield. The force of the impact sent shockwaves rippling outward, disintegrating the earth beneath her, ripping through what remained of the anchorage.
Her flesh blackened.
Her monstrous form convulsed as arcs of electricity danced across her body, burning her from the inside out.
Her scream twisted, like a haunting guttural banshee mourning her own death.
And then—
She turned to ash...
The last remnants of her form crumbled, swept away in the storm as the lingering energy of my spell crackled in the air.
And then...
Silence fell.
*Whoosh!* *whoosh*
The storm, once raging, began to dissipate. The cyclone stilled. The winds died. The sky above remained dark, but the violent chaos had faded, leaving only the ruins of battle.
""GAAAAGH!! Cah! Ugh! Gak!""
I dropped to the ground, landing hard, my body barely responding to my commands as I coughed up a combination of bile, sizzling blood and air.
Smoke curled from my hands. My skin was charred in places, the backlash from the sheer force of my magic seared into my flesh. My Prana flickered, unstable, drained beyond reason as it tried to offset the effects of my rampant Mana trying to cook me alive.
But it was over.
Cynthia was gone...
Reduced to nothing but a pile of ash, her monstrous screams of agony lingering in the air like echoes of a nightmare. The acrid stench of burnt flesh and ozone filled my lungs, mingling with the blood and sweat clinging to my battered form. The final arcs of black lightning crackled around me, snapping against the ground before fading into silence.
((I'm...alive...holy fvcking sh*t, I'm alive! Thank Astraea the [Rule of Providence] was merciful on me today))
""HAAAAA~!""
I hadn't even realized I was holding my breath until I let out a sharp, ragged exhale.
"Haa~ haa~"
My body trembled, barely holding itself together. The storm overhead fully dissipated, the swirling winds losing their fury, the blackened sky beginning to part revealing blue color above. But the damage had already been done—to Cynthia, to the anchorage, to me.
*Sizzle**Sizzle*
Smoke curled off my flesh, the scent of singed fabric and burnt skin thick in the air. My nerves screamed at me, protesting every slight movement, the aftermath of [Dual Dragon Lightning] searing through my body.
I had wielded a spell beyond my natural limit, and in doing so, I had incurred the [Rule of Providence].
The one absolute law that governed all practitioners of magic.
The first thing every mage learns, the first truth etched into the foundation of all sorcery. A decree that bound every wielder of magic, regardless of their school, discipline, or mastery:
"The more you take, the less you have"
There was no such thing as free power in this world. Every spell, every invocation, every force of Mana extracted a price. No matter how skilled, no matter how powerful, a magician could never break this law—only bargain with it.
Use pyromancy recklessly? Your body burns.
Manipulate time beyond your means? Suffer [Temporal Recoil].
Dabble in Nihilomancy? Invite [Oblivion Rot].
Using [Form Release] (Although this was an ability unique to me)? Risk [Warp Form].
And [Dual Dragon Lightning]…a spell of pure, raging electromancy beyond my current level, had exacted its own cost—the unbearable charge of its lightning still wracking my body. If not for my remaining Prana instinctively shielding me from the worst of the backlash from my raging Mana, I might've been reduced to ash alongside Cynthia.
"Haaaaaaa~"
I took another long, ragged breath, my legs buckling beneath me before I caught myself. My vision swam, pain lancing through every fiber of my being. I had pushed myself beyond my limit, and my body was paying the price.
((I need…to recover...))
Reaching into my subspatial [Item Box], I fumbled for the potions I had stored away in my suitcase. My fingers barely had the strength to grip them, but I forced them to move.
Of course I had potions on me but the lightning had cracked the glass and evaporated the liquids inside.
*Thud!* *Clack!*
The suitcase fell to the ground and opened like a gift box.
I reached in to pull out a deep red vial—a health potion. I uncorked it with my teeth and downed it in a single gulp. A cool sensation surged through my limbs, soothing the pain gnawing at me, though it was only half decent relief.
Next another stamina potion, the green liquid traveling down my throat eased my exhaustion.
Finally—a dark blue vial. Mana Potion. My reserves had been drained, my circuits nearly burnt out from overuse. I needed to replenish them, even if the restoration was gradual. I tilted my head back, swallowing the thick liquid. The taste was acrid, metallic, but I barely registered it.
Then—Restorative Salve. I smeared it over the worst of my burns and wounds, feeling the numbing agents seep into my skin, dulling the pain.
I considered taking another R-booster but decided against it for now due to how difficult it is to synthesize even one of these, I did take one needle out to carry with me just in case though.
((Good…this'll do for now))
""Argh!...""
I forced my aching body to move, stumbling at first before steadying myself. My hooded short cloak hung in tattered shreds, the coat under it not faring any better having gashes all over it where she clawed me, my mask still cracked at the bottom, exposing the dried blood on my lips. My body was far from fully recovered, but I couldn't afford to waste more time.
There was still one last target.
""Hanuman Orland...""
The mastermind behind this ordeal. The last remaining target of this mission.
""I went through a lot of trouble to get to you...please die quickly""
It was a genuine plea, I can't handle another death defying monster like Cynthia, though considering my horrid [Luck] it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility.
He was still hiding somewhere within the ruins of the anchorage.
""Haa~""
I exhaled sharply, suppressing a wince as pain flared through my chest. Then, step by step, I began to move, dragging myself forward through the wreckage.
One final stretch...
((Just one more name to cross off the list and I'll FINALLY be done...))
With that consoling thought, I pulled out "Mumei" from the ground it's blade cracked and close to snapping.
I dragged myself forward, my boots crunching over the rubble, every step was accompanied by small aches, a constant reminder of the sheer punishment I just went through.
*Click!*
I loaded up the final bolt I had for Orland on my wrist mounted launcher.
My cloak barely clung to my shoulders, reduced to little more than tattered rags. The cracked mask on my face felt heavier than ever, its fractured bottom revealing the dried blood caked around my lips. My breath was ragged, and the bitter taste of iron lingered in my mouth.
Hanuman Orland was nearby...I KNEW it for a fact.
The bastard had watched everything unfold. He had seen Cynthia and Harold fall, yet he hadn't fled. That meant he was waiting. Not out of bravery—no, he wasn't the type. It was arrogance. He thought he still had control over the situation, either that or he's accomplished whatever he set out to do...that wasn't a comforting thought.
""Haa~ Haa~""
*Rip!*
I made my way through the remnants of a collapsed warehouse, the skeletal remains of metal beams groaning under their own weight. A shattered window frame caught my sleeve as I staggered through, slicing open the fabric. I barely felt it. My focus was set on the structure ahead—one of the few still standing, its walls scorched but intact.
*Eeeeee!* *Crash!*
I pushed through the broken doorway and stepped inside.
There he was...
Hanuman Orland sat comfortably on a wooden chair, one leg crossed over the other, swirling a glass of red wine in his hand. His once-pristine sailor's coat was stained and torn, the gold embroidery dulled by dust and sweat. His ridiculous fisher's cap, still adorned with its gaudy jewels, sat slightly askew on his head. Rings glittered on his fingers, catching the dim light that filtered through the cracks in the building's walls.
Despite his disheveled state, he looked utterly at ease.
A smirk played at his lips as he took a slow sip from his glass before lazily gesturing at me with the stem.
"Ah, there you are. Took your time, didn't you?"
His voice dripped with sarcasm.
"I do hope you had fun playing with the neighbor's kids"
He said with an annoying pompous voice only someone of nobility or ties to the nobility would have.
""...""
I stood there, silent.
My body screamed for rest, my muscles locking up, but I still lifted my left arm. The wrist-mounted launcher snapped into place, and before he could react—
*Thwip!* *THUNK!*
The final bolt I had buried itself deep into his thigh.
"AGH—!"
*Shatter!*
Orland's smirk shattered, his glass slipping from his fingers and crashing onto the floor, staining the wood with crimson. He doubled over, clutching his bleeding leg, his teeth clenched as he barely managed to stifle a scream.
""F*ck you...prick""
I watched him struggle, my voice as blank and emotionally drained as ever.
His ragged breathing filled the silence between us, his pain-contorted face twisting into something between rage and forced amusement.
"Haaa~ haaa~ ha! haha..."
I didn't care.
This was the end of the road for him.
"Ha...hahaha"
Orland's lips curled into a strained smirk as he gritted his teeth against the pain in his leg. His fingers trembled as they pressed into the wound, blood seeping between them. Yet, even as he winced, he let out a dry, rasping chuckle.
"I take it my sense of humor wasn't well received? Damn shame. I always thought I had a knack for making an impression"
He forced out, squeezing out a pained laugh as he shook his head.
""...""
I remained silent. My mask hid any reaction, but the stillness spoke volumes.
"Haaaaaaaa~"
Orland exhaled sharply, his amusement waning as frustration began to settle in. He shifted in his seat, trying his best to staunch the bleeding from his thigh as best he can.
"What? Nothing? No dramatic one liners? No threats, no curses, no "for the glory of the Mekhanite Order" bullshit?"
Orland scoffed, waving a hand dismissively.
"You assassins really do take the fun out of things..."
He stated frustrated by my lack of reaction.
""...""
Again, I said nothing.
"Fuuuuu~"
Orland sighed through his nose, his fingers drumming against the arm of the chair. Then his lips twisted into something cruel.
"You know, it's funny..."
He mused, leaning forward slightly.
"For all your skill, all your incredible abilities, all your little tricks—you're nothing but a goddamn tool. A disposable weapon the Mekhanites will toss aside the second you're not sharp enough to cut"
He tilted his head, watching for any reaction.
"They'll use you up, Jackal. Just like they used me. Just like my dear Lisa..."
Something flickered behind his eyes—an old wound, raw and unhealed—but he buried it under another smirk.
"You ever wonder what happens to people like us when we're no longer useful? No retirement, no rewards, just an unmarked grave. If you're lucky that is...heh"
He poured out his feelings to the uncaring background that was me.
""...""
Silence.
"RRR!"
Orland clenched his jaw, his frustration mounting.
"Are you seriously not going to say anything? Not even a little bit of defiance? No denial, no anger? For the love of Astraea, kid, you're making this even more depressing than it already is..."
I finally moved, tilting my head ever so slightly, before responding in a calm, matter-of-fact tone.
""I know full well I'm disposable...probably considerably less than the average operative but still, I know my lifespan is only going to be as long as the expiration date on their label for me...""
"Huh?!"
Orland blinked.
""I know that one day they'll probably send the next brainwashed, state-of-the-art super soldier after me. And I know that no matter how good I am, no matter how many people I kill in their name, eventually...I'll be the one on my knees, staring down the blade of my executioner much like you're doing now""
My voice remained eerily even, unaffected, as if discussing the weather.
""But despite that, I still do what I do anyway. Not just because I know nothing else. Not just because I've accepted it. But because I love doing it. It's the only thing that makes sense, the only thing that feels real""
I explained in a tone devoid of emotion.
"What?! Why?!"
Orland's eyes narrowed.
""Because...being an assassin for the Executerii is the only thing that gives my life any fulfillment...""
I continued, as if stating an unshakable truth.
""It's the only thing I'm good at. The only thing I was made for. If I didn't do this, what else would I even be? What else could I be?""
I posed this question casually to him, wondering if he would know the answer.
""I don't see the point in my life otherwise...if the day comes when the Executerii discard me as they have you today...I'll just continue doing what I do best and kill whoever they send after me. Or at the very least take as many of them down with me as possible, I'll keep killing until I can't anymore""
I tilted my head again, stating blankly and clearly my view of things.
""I don't do this out of any loyalty to the organization, I do it because I choose to, because this job is the only thing that matters to me despite how much I hate it sometimes""
I finished expressing my opinion before watching for his reaction.
"..."
It was Orland's turn to be silent now as for a long moment, He simply stared at me. The smugness, the mockery, the arrogance—it all drained from his face as realization sank in.
I wasn't some mindless, brainwashed zealot. I knew exactly what I was. I knew my fate. And I accepted it as a natural part of my life like breathing.
"I see now..."
Orland had a look of chilling realization.
"Somehow...I feel like that's more tragic than blind devotion kiddo..."
A strange look passed over his face, something between pity and understanding. His gaze softened, and for the first time since our encounter, there was no trace of mockery in his tone.
"Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa~"
Orland let out a long sigh, shaking his head wearily, somehow it was even longer and more mournful than the sigh he let out before.
He looked at me with pity, as if I was some broken thing that was beyond help.
"...Sorry, kid. I just want you to know that...I'm really REALLY sorry..."
He murmured, shaking his head.
""Hmm?""
I tilted my head confused.
"You never should've gotten stuck in this sh*tty world we demented old men created for ourselves"
He said offering me his sincere apology though for what reason I did not understand.
""...??""
I didn't respond. I only stepped forward.
*Shing!*
Mumei's chipped blade in hand.
Orland exhaled, slumping back into his chair.
"Go on then..."
He muttered, closing his eyes.
"Do what you do best"
I didn't hesitate.
But just before the blade reached his neck I noticed something...
((Is he-smiling?...what is he so happy about?))
Orland did not flinch at all at the coming blade, plastered on his face was a big smirk of contentment, as if he was happy with how things turned out. My enhanced senses caught every moment of this instance of bliss before my blade found it's way to his neck.
*Shing!*
The whisper of steel cut through the air as "Mumei" slid free. With one fluid motion, I brought the blade across his throat. A clean, perfect execution.
"Gu-!"
Orland's body twitched slightly, then slumped, his head lolling forward. But even in the throes of death, there was something unsettling about him—his lips were curved into a faint, peaceful smile.
((Why is he smiling like that?))
I had seen many people die, most of them at my hands. I had ended countless lives. I had witnessed every reaction imaginable—begging, bargaining, desperation, rage, defiance, hatred, regret. But this was different.
Orland hadn't fought. He hadn't tried to run. He hadn't cursed his fate or screamed for mercy. He had simply accepted it. With an ease that was almost unnatural.
""Why are yo-?""
And for the first time in my career, I was left confused.
I usually felt nothing when doing these things. But this time there was a lingering sense of...something I couldn't quite place.
Before Orland had died, he had muttered one last truth—a confession that had caught me slightly off guard.
"You know...I never expected you to be the one they sent... but damn, did I hope they'd send someone..."
He had chuckled weakly, blood dribbling from his lips.
""...""
I stared at him, silent, a normal person would've died already but Orland was also a supernaturally exposed individual, people like us are above the average joe in terms of abilities.
Orland's smile widened.
"This whole thing...was always about getting the Mekhanites to clean up my mess. Harold. Cynthia. They were just pieces on this board. I knew...the...Rivalin guild...the Scarlet...Chorus...they'd have the Mekhanites' head for this...even if the assassin they sent failed, conflict between the two would've been inevitable after this...All I had to do was make sure the order caught wind of the...transaction happening here today"
A weak, rattling laugh.
"And guess what? It worked...a bloody conflict is inevitable now...hahaha...tell the...Maestro...I said...my strings are cut, but yours are tighter than ever...you damn creepy puppet...haha..."
Then...silence overtook the room as Orland's body slumped over motionless.
""...""
And now, I stood over Orland's lifeless body, staring down at the smirk still frozen on his face.
((...))
For a long moment, I said nothing. Thought nothing.
Then, finally—I spoke
""Conflict just means that there will be more work for me""
I stated matter-of-factly.
Little did I know that Orland's death was more than just another job, more than just another target eliminated. At the time, I saw only the stillness of his body, the smirk frozen dead on his lips—an anomaly, nothing more. The weight of his final words, the echoes of his intent, were distant things, their meaning just beyond my grasp.
I didn't yet understand the full extent of what he had set in motion. Nor did I recognize the quiet, unsettling truth buried beneath his last act—how alike we truly were. Not then, anyway.