“Gah! Huff! Huff!”
Makio glared at Louis Berg, eyes bloodshot and breath ragged.
He couldn’t make heads or tails of what had just happened.
What was that? What in hells just happened?!
The bastard had picked up his bow, and then—his vision went white.
Or maybe it was blue?
Just a mont ago, when Louis had fired his bow, he’d seed like a nobody—a third-rate archer who couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn, showing not even the faintest hint of Aura.
But that last attack—now, that was sothing else. Sharper than any blade, faster than sight itself.
And then there was the stench of callias, so thick it made his nose curl. The sweet scent tangled with the acrid reek of sothing struck by lightning, creating a dizzying sort of “perfu.”
“Grrrgh!” Makio clutched at the stump where his leg used to be, groaning in pain.
Where there should have been a leg, there was now nothing at all.
And yet, the pain was still there. It was surely what professionals called phantom limb pain.
Makio tried to collect his thoughts through the agony.
No, not “collect.” It was more like his thoughts had been forcibly collected and sorted.
After all, a life spent in the company of money had trained his mind to assess any situation.
I… I got beaten by the Berg brat?
Even as he gasped for breath, rage welled up inside him.
Who was he, after all?
Makio was a knight on the verge of becoming an Aura Expert. He’d spent his whole life investing in comrce and combat, working harder than anyone else—putting in effort by the cartload.
All to beco a ruler. All to stand above everyone else.
And now, all that work, all that ambition, ruined by so wastrel brat? Was he supposed to spend the rest of his life as a cripple?
“Don’t make laugh! DON’T YOU FUCK AROUND WITH EE!”
Makio, driven by fury, lashed out with his whip. But with one leg missing and his body sprawled on the ground, he couldn’t even reach Louis.
How could his attack land when he couldn’t close the distance?
“C’RE! I SAID, GET OVER HERE!” Makio scread, his eyes bloodshot and wild. But nothing changed, of course.
As for Martin Artezia—Makio’s only potential bargaining chip—he was slumped on the floor, face splattered with blood.
“Uh… uh…!” He looked as if he’d forgotten how to speak entirely.
Not exactly the sort of backup you’d want in a crisis.
“DAMN IT! DAMMIT AAAAALLL!” Makio kept shouting, temper flaring like a bonfire.
anwhile, Louis bent down, picked up a shard of glass that had been rolling across the floor, and began to walk—slowly, deliberately—toward Makio.
Makio gnashed his teeth and bellowed, “I’LL KILL YOUUUU!”
Yet, Louis seed to be amused by the sight. He kept advancing, sporting a thin, crooked smile.
“Imagine still trying to kill soone in that state… You really are the persistent type, my good sir. I’m rooting for you.”
“Shut up!”
“Hm… Now that’s a bit harsh. I don’t mind, but soone else might take offense. You really ought to start watching your tongue.”
Was this mockery? It certainly had all the hallmarks.
Makio, seething, lashed out with his whip again and again.
But Louis caught the incoming whip midair and continued, unbothered. “You look just like a wolf caught in a trap, all wounded and howling.”
“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”
“Parroting yourself, are you? Seems like you really have lost your way with words. I wish you a swift recovery—if you survive, that is.”
Louis yanked the whip from Makio’s hand. It slipped free and sailed over to him.
Tossing the whip aside, Louis carried on speaking. “Anyway, as I was saying. Do you know how to ta a wild beast you’ve just hunted?”
“Graaaargh!”
“It’s quite simple, really.” Before Makio could muster another protest, Louis squatted down right in front of him.
Then, he took the glass shard he picked up earlier—and stabbed it into Makio’s shoulder.
Squelch!
“AAAAAAARRRGH!”
“You just torture it right up to the edge of death. Remarkably efficient, wouldn’t you say?”
Louis fixed Makio with a cold, impersonal gaze.
Then, removing his thimble, he reached into his coat and slipped his gloves back on.
“So, do try your best to endure.”
He took hold of one of Makio’s fingernails.
And then he began prying it off.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGHHHHHH!”
Makio scread as his fingernail was ripped out.
Watching him, Louis grasped the next finger and added, “Who knows? You might just survive this.”
* * *
“Uuuurgh…” Makio wobbled, blood dribbling from his mouth.
His entire body was marked by torture, and every fingernail and toenail had been forcibly evicted, now rolling about the ground.
I kept my face expressionless as I looked at Makio, remarking, “Hm… What a ss.”
Maybe it was a habit from my days as a hunting dog, but I always found myself putting on gloves whenever it ca ti to torture soone.
The only difference was, back then I’d used cheap gloves. Now, I was wearing a pair of very expensive leather ones.
Anyway, I brushed the blood off my gloves with a snap and squatted down in front of Makio.
“Do you want to live?” I asked.
“Uuuurgh…” Makio shuffled closer and tried to say sothing.
It wasn’t exactly what you’d call good communication, but I could tell, instinctively, that he wanted to live.
I nodded as if I understood and said, “Very well. I’ll let you live.”
“Uuuurgh…” Makio dipped his head in what seed like gratitude. Or at least, that was the impression he gave.
I didn’t pay it much mind. Instead, I pulled a sheet of paper from inside my coat.
[ Letter of Delegation ]
“Sign here. I’d offer you a fountain pen, but sadly, there isn’t one in sight. Still, no matter—we’ve got a natural brand of ink right here.” I pointed to the blood trickling from Makio.
With trembling hands, Makio took the docunt and glanced up at . His eyes were practically spelling out, “Are you really going to let live if I do this?”
I nodded breezily and assured, “I promise.”
Makio’s face slackened with relief, and his fingers began to scrawl across the page.
The letter of delegation was still missing the na of the recipient, but Makio clearly had bigger things to worry about than paperwork.
So Makio finished signing, handed the docunt over, and I took it, giving his signature a cursory inspection.
Finding nothing objectionable, I tucked the paper into my coat pocket.
“Well done,” I praised.
“Uuuuuuuuuurgh…”
“Oh, is that you begging for your life? Very well. A promise is a promise.” I nodded in understanding.
The next second, I plucked the shard of glass I’d left in Makio’s trapezius and drove it straight into his heart.
Squelch!
“Guuuuuuuuurgh…!”
Makio looked up at , his face a perfect portrait of, “What in all the hells do you think you’re doing?”
But I didn’t bother with explanations.
“I said I’d keep my word. You’ll keep breathing for the next three minutes, and I won’t lay another finger on you. Congratulations are in order. Three whole minutes more of life. If that’s not a blessing, then I’m a teapot.”
“Guuuuuuuuurgh…”
“Hmm? You agree? Such a relief. Your enthusiasm is infectious, my good sir.”
I nodded, and, as promised, switched off my attention from Makio.
Whatever happened next was nature’s business, not a breach of contract on my part.
And so, I left Makio behind and strolled away at a leisurely pace.
The fighting, aside from my own little contribution, was already over. The rest of my party was camped in a corner, forming a human barricade to keep Martin from making a dash for freedom.
“You little cunts! Do you have any idea who I am?!” Martin bellowed, pinned in place by the others.
Lancelot watched the scene unfold with a sneer, then began to mimic Martin. “Ye leetle kentz, d’ya even knau hoo ai eeem?”
“Gargh! Execution! Execution, I say!”
“Eexeecuton, eexeecuton sey!”
…Truly, a model of consistency, that one.
Where the heck did he pick up such a ridiculous act?
Most likely, whoever taught him was already lying cold in the ground.
If there were anyone in this world more irritating than Lancelot, society would have made sure they were quietly removed from circulation.
I shook my head at Lancelot, then walked over to Martin.
Martin spotted and hesitated for a mont. Probably because he’d just witnessed my torture of Makio.
But soon enough, he glared at and roared, “Hey, you shithead! You’d best untie right now!”
Martin was acting this way because he thought I wouldn’t kill him.
And, as if to prove the point—“Ptui!”—as I got closer, Martin spat right in my face.
Splat. A thick, slimy glob of spit oozed down my cheek, delivering a sensation that could only be described as nauseating.
The next mont—
Swipe!
“Stop!” I shouted, bringing Kai to a halt.
Kai had been in the middle of pressing his nails into Martin’s throat, his eyes blazing with fury.
Kai ground his teeth, glaring at Martin with murderous intent.
The air was thick with bloodlust, and Martin’s airway was beginning to feel the squeeze.
Kai froze, then uttered slowly, “I’ll kill you myself, however long that takes.”
The others were no different.
Lancelot, spear in hand, looked ready to skewer Martin at a mont’s notice, and Roxen had Martin by the hair, poised to slice his neck.
“This punk’s really getting on my nerves.”
“My liege, just give the order and I’ll take his head off right now.”
Their voices dripped with loyalty.
I looked at my companions, all of them seething with rage right in front of .
Not that I’d ever done anything for them.
Sure, I looked after Kai’s siblings, but the rest? All I’d ever given them were empty promises about what I’d do soday.
So why were they so loyal?
…It must be for their own purposes.
I forced myself to turn my thoughts elsewhere, refusing to dwell on it any longer.
Their loyalty, I told myself, was strictly for their own ends. Not because I was dear to them, but simply because it was part of the bargain.
I erased the tangle of emotions from my face, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped my cheek.
Then, with a wave for the others to step aside, I walked right up to Martin. Even with death breathing down his neck, he still glared at .
He really believed the halo of his family na would keep him safe.
With a snort, I curled my lips into a smile and asked, “You seem to think I can’t kill you.”
“Ha! Of course not. I’m a direct heir of House Artezia!”
“Mm, you’re right. I can’t kill you. I can’t risk making an enemy of a duchy by murdering a noble.”
I nodded calmly at Martin’s confident claim.
“But I can make you wish you were dead.”
Whap!
I grabbed Martin’s face and pulled a glass vial from my coat. Inside was a heap of white powder.
Drugs. The very sa drugs I’d once received from Lexa.
Lexa’s drugs were so potent that even the Imperial Family made a sport of cracking down on them. And this was the finest of the lot—a dose so powerful that, once tasted, ordinary life would beco an impossibility.
“Mmph! Mmph!” Martin thrashed, desperate to escape my grip.
But as soone who’d never trained a day in his life, he couldn’t hope to overpower .
I dumped the powder into his mouth, saying, “It’s expensive, so don’t leave any behind.”
“Mmph! Mmph!”
“Oh, and for your information, there’s a hypnotic agent mixed in. With the right thod, you can be put under hypnosis after taking it.”
I t Martin’s eyes and continued, “From now on, you’ll go mad. You won’t be able to tell anyone about this, and you won’t even rember it yourself. Only fear will remain, gnawing away at your mind—so hold on to that, if you can.”
I closed my hand lightly around Martin’s throat. He lost consciousness almost imdiately and crumpled to the floor.
Thud.
I left Martin where he lay and stood up.
One day, I’d kill him.
But only after he had tasted pain—after he had known a suffering that never ends.
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