Once I confirmed the battle was over, I climbed down from the carriage. Using my sheathed blade as a makeshift cane, I limped toward Yulitia and the others.
I had cut down two men. As far as the fake Cain was concerned, he deserved no mercy—but the feeling was still unpleasant. No matter how many times I experience it, I never get used to taking a life, even when the target is an irredeemable villain.
I abandoned any hesitation toward the act of killing long ago. But afterward... when I see those eyes like an abyss, swirling with fear, regret, anger, pain, despair, and confusion as they collapse in a spray of blood—I am always left with a hollow, directionless emptiness.
The old man used to say there was no need to get used to it. He called it proof that I understood the value of life. He told me that as long as I had the resolve to kill for the sake of protection, there was no reason to go out of my way to discard that weight.
So, I suppose I will continue to live this way, coming to terms with these emotions every time I draw my steel.
"Wolka..."
Master stepped up beside me and lightly squeezed my fingers. I could feel her worried gaze. What's gotten into you, Master? Usually, you'd be puffing out your chest and shouting about divine punishment. It would be easier on me if she acted like her usual self; there was no need for her to worry so much.
Sensing the fight was over, Anze and Ruerie emerged from the carriage. While Ruerie turned pale at the sight of the bandits' remains scattered about, Anze didn't even spare the corpses a glance as she ran toward me.
"Master Wolka, are you injured?"
"No..."
She gently enveloped my left hand—the one resting on my sword—with both of hers, her expression full of devotion. Even for us adventurers, the scene was quite gruesome, yet she didn't even change color. It seemed the elite sisters of the Cathedral possessed formidable mental fortitude.
"I am deeply grateful for your assistance in exterminating these Ruffians. Please, ensure you accept a reward when we return to the Holy City."
While it was the same in any city, the Holy City—a bastion of faith that championed humanity—poured a particular amount of effort into the subjugation of villains. One might expect the Chryscles Holy Church to preach grand ideals about how even the wicked should be saved, but in reality, they were extremely cold and strict toward criminals.
However, it was premature to talk as if everything was settled.
The man who could be ignored the least was still standing there.
"W-Well, quite impressive. I never imagined you were this strong, haha..."
A short distance from the carriage, the man who had been slumped on the ground in speechless shock—the client, Staffio—finally regained his wits. He scrambled to his feet, plastering on a forced, fawning smile.
"I was surprised that someone so young could fight so bravely."
"..."
None of us responded. We simply glared at him, weapons still in hand.
"W-What seems to be the matter?"
He was being shamelessly transparent. He surely knew he couldn't deceive us anymore.
"You were the one holding the reins, weren't you, Staffio?"
"That was... the horses—"
"..."
A heavy silence followed.
Staffio sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. When he spoke again, his voice was cold and detached, as if he were a completely different person.
"...Good grief, this was a complete miscalculation. I had heard that the young adventurers of this country were inexperienced in fighting their own kind. In fact, the A-rank party I captured the other day was child's play."
Windmill was C-rank... which meant these people had been targeting other young parties as well.
Additionally, based on his phrasing, they seemed to be a group that had crossed the border from another nation. That made sense. If a group of this scale had been active here for long, the guild would have issued warnings or the knights would have moved in to wipe them out. They were likely recent arrivals, still in the early stages of their operations.
And this man was undoubtedly their leader.
"—I understand. It is our loss."
Surprisingly, Staffio raised the white flag with ease.
"I shall withdraw immediately and vow never to show my face again. In fact, I will leave this country at once."
"In other words, you want us to just stay quiet and let you crawl away?"
Master narrowed her eyes in displeasure. To attack so many people and then ask for a free pass the moment things turned south was a pathetic proposition.
"We can't even begin to talk until you release your captives. There are others besides Ruerie's companions, aren't there?"
"..."
Staffio considered this for a moment, but he didn't answer her. Instead, he spoke gently to the girl who stood rooted to the spot, unable to move a muscle as she trembled.
"Ruerie, come back."
Ruerie’s shaking stopped.
It would be more accurate to say she froze. Staffio spoke again, his voice sharpening.
"Come back. —Return."
"Eek...!"
I wondered what this man had done to her.
Her heart seemed to be cracking under the ice. People don't usually show that kind of terror even when facing monsters.
Whatever it was, the effect was immediate. Ruerie began to move awkwardly on her frozen legs, looking as if she might trip at any moment as she started toward Staffio. Yulitia, who was closest to her, tried to intervene.
"Ruerie, wait—"
"RUERIE!!"
"—!?"
At Staffio's roar, Ruerie forcefully brushed away Yulitia's reaching hand.
"I'm sorry—I'm sorry."
With a voice that sounded like her soul was being wrung out, she shook off our gazes and retreated to Staffio's side.
"This is quite troublesome," Staffio lamented, shaking his head. "She is one of our comrades. I would appreciate it if you stopped trying to detain her."
"That's not true!! Who... who would ever be one of you?!"
"We are comrades, aren't we? Weren't you the one who worked so hard to figure out how to lure these people here?"
Even from a distance, I could see Ruerie lose her breath.
"N-No... it's only because you took Big Sister...!"
"The reason is a trivial matter. You deceived these people with a plan you devised yourself and led them here. You are a fine villain, just like us."
"Ugh... ah..."
She collapsed. Losing the strength to support her own weight, she slumped to the ground, her staff rolling away. She clawed at her hair with both hands, muttering like a prayer.
"No... it's not true... I... I just, Big Sister..."
It was a miserable, petty tactic. The reason humans are more vicious than animals is their ability to torment others mentally as well as physically.
Ruerie had been cornered like this, forced to obey them just to keep her sister alive. "I'll save her"—even if she knew those words were a lie, she had no other choice.
"Now then... I cannot return empty-handed. I have no choice but to resist as much as possible."
Staffio pulled a long, thin vial from his breast pocket. Inside was not a liquid, but a single slip of paper imbued with faint magical power.
"A Scroll?"
"Yes. And not just any Scroll... the spirit magic Gratonia, the Gluttonous Mourner, is recorded within."
Master's eyebrow twitched.
A Scroll is a medium containing a pre-recorded spell. Unlike a grimoire, which requires study and talent, a Scroll can be activated by anyone with a single drop of mana. However, they have limited uses, and powerful ones are usually one-time-only.
Then there was Spirit Magic—a system entirely separate from human magic, rooted in the power of spirits. Essentially, it was far beyond what humans could normally handle. A Spirit Magic Scroll was an incredibly rare item, found only deep within dungeons.
"I would prefer it if you didn't force me to use this."
A straightforward threat. He figured if he was going down, he’d take us with him.
Master replied ominously, "Are you sure? Gratonia... if you use that, you won't escape unscathed either."
"Haha, then so be it. I suppose my luck would have simply run out."
He seemed to mean it. Staffio laughed cheerfully and looked down at the girl beside him.
"Ah... but there is one thing I find regrettable."
Ruerie sat there with hollow eyes, no longer possessing the strength to stand.
"That Ruerie should be caught up in it like this... I find it truly pitiful."
Staffio continued, "This girl worked so hard. To save her sister, she worked herself to the bone to assist us in our 'villainy.' To think she might die as a criminal as a result... how tragic."
He went on. "She probably wanted to see her sister one last time."
And on. "Her sister will grieve so deeply. I wonder why she even chose to sacrifice herself in the first place..."
And finally, "Well—if you believe this girl is also a 'villain' who should perish, then feel free to do as you please."
How shamelessly he spoke. He said everything he wanted and then dumped the burden on us, making it our responsibility. Since he had "offered" to surrender if we let him walk, he made the outcome our choice.
We had the combat advantage, but he had forced us into a stalemate of conscience.
The distance between us was about ten meters—a delicate gap. If he intended to take everyone with him the moment someone moved, saving Ruerie would be a massive gamble.
Master shook her head. It was no bluff; the Scroll was his genuine trump card.
"If you care for this girl... you need only stay your hand and let us leave."
Staffio pulled out a small blue crystal—a Teleportation Stone. While powerful inside a dungeon, they were a waste of money outside, only capable of short-range travel after a long activation time. But if it was just to disappear into the woods while using Ruerie as a shield, it would be enough.
"Everyone... it's okay!" Ruerie shouted.
She sat there, shoulders trembling. Her voice was thin and brittle, filled with a forced, unnatural cheer. Anyone could see she was lying through her teeth.
"I-It's okay! Please don't worry about me! I-I'm sure this is my punishment. Because I obeyed these bad people and d-deceived you all!"
God, I hate this wretched world.
How old was she? Thirteen, like Yulitia? And here she was, giving up on being saved and blaming herself while trying to force a smile through her tears.
What kind of courage did that take?
"It's... okay now..."
Ruerie—don't smile.
When things are this bad, you're allowed to cry. You're allowed to scream for help. If you do, we’ll save you in a heartbeat. You saw how the others fought, didn't you? Did they look like people who would let you down?
So, stop smiling.
"It's... it's enough..."
But then, we only met yesterday. I guess it's hard to trust strangers that much.
Fine. I'll show you. We were in different carriages, so we haven't had a chance to talk. Consider this a proper introduction.
Look closely, and remember this.
"................................No... help me...!"
I absolutely hate these kinds of bad endings.
In the next instant, Staffio saw Wolka do something incomprehensible.
He pulled his prosthetic left leg back and dropped to one knee on the spot, as if kneeling before royalty.
Ordinarily, Staffio wouldn't have permitted such a suspicious move, but the action was so abrupt and strangely graceful that it caught him off guard.
"...? Surely you don't intend to beg for her life? Don't misunderstand, she is—"
"Ruerie. Close your eyes."
Sound vanished from the world Staffio perceived.
It was an illusion, of course. But for that heartbeat, Staffio felt the wind die, the leaves go still, and the world itself freeze into a silent, white void.
In that momentary silence that made his ears ache—unable to move a finger or even draw a breath—Staffio felt the hair on his body stand on end.
Purple Lightning Flash.
It was the term often used to describe a stroke of a blade so fast it resembled a spark, but the light that streaked through the air was not purple.
It mattered not that the target was a villain using an innocent girl as a shield. It mattered not that the target was a monster with the name of a death god.
Surpassing the Purple Lightning, leaving all perception in its wake, and severing the very logic of space—there was only the silver light.
Silver Lightning Flash.
The silence shattered.
There was a perceived blank space of white, and by the time Staffio realized he was staring up at the twilight sky, he understood his end had come.
Clear as a bell, the sound of a sword clicking into its scabbard echoed through the clearing.