"Damn it!"
Several rebels who were venting their rage by shooting the corpses of dead merchant gang staff with confiscated firearms reacted without thinking. They raised their guns and opened fire regardless of whether it was useful, shouting loudly at the same time, "It's Imperial gunships!"
"Scatter, scatter! Everyone scatter!"
Just moments ago, they had been laughing together, cursing the Empire for being inhuman, savoring the pleasure of revenge, ready to drown these swaggering Imperial merchant vampires in a cesspit. Now the native rebels erupted into chaos.
Shrill, hoarse screams rang in their ears from all sides. The dense mass of indigenous laborers who had been surrounding the area, seething with fury and intent on repaying their suffering a hundredfold or a thousandfold, scattered like frightened birds.
The ragged, big-bearded man who seemed to be the riot's leader let out a roar, then grabbed the disfigured young man standing there in a daze beside him and lunged toward a nearby trench and dirt embankment.
Following immediately after came the piercing wail produced by air friction.
Several fighter craft screamed past through the low sky, their noses and wings spewing high-speed tongues of fire. Like a plowing rain of lasers, they carved a crimson, twisted trail of blood and flesh into the gray, murky soil.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The air turned scorching hot. The shattered ground blasted apart by autocannon fire sent fragments flying, turning every explosion point into a miniature fragmentation grenade. Gravel, shrapnel, and wood chips became terrifying scythes of death, letting out ear-piercing shrieks as they tore through the air.
"Old man Harper, what are you doing?!"
"Naturally, killing him! We've worked so hard and so many people have died. Even if I go to hell, I'm taking him with me!"
The human old man with a severed leg pulled the trigger decisively, unloading a full burst at the Imperial merchant flung to the ground, whose life or death was unknown. He only stopped after blasting the man's torso and head into minced meat.
After doing all that, the old man, his broken leg and his body swept by autocannon fire, his abdomen torn open by ricocheting fragments, spat out a mouthful of turbid phlegm streaked with blood.
"He got off easy. If there were more time, he should've rotted in the cesspit."
"Fuck Selene and her bullshit. Let's see how you cure this." Having done all this without pause, the old man, resigned to death, raised his gun with both hands and fired at the Imperial gunships that were slowing down at low altitude.
"Dragging these bloodsuckers down with me, it's worth it..."
BANG!
Before his words even fell, a bolt round pierced straight through the human old man's chest. His entire body exploded, countless foul organs, rotten flesh, and blood splattering across more than ten meters of soil behind him.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
From the gunships hovering at low altitude and beginning to deploy landing Imperial troops, bolt rounds continuously sprayed out from the long-gun and short-gun firepower module arrays.
Sprt! Sprt!
Incomplete corpses crashing to the ground kicked up dust, which mixed with the sprayed blood mist and minced flesh, spreading into a cloud that made the air itself seem blurred. Only various roars and screams remained.
Several ferocious-looking native furred demi-human races who were still dragging other merchant team captives to relocate them had no time to continue their abuse.
Thud! Thud thud!
With several dull impacts, the clamor of these beast-faced demi-humans with furry tails and various bestial traits abruptly ceased.
Stepping on the red-and-white slurry left after heads burst apart, squads of Imperial auxiliary soldiers clad in fully enclosed exoskeletal armor rappelled down from gunships hovering dozens of meters in the air.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Several more squads of Sisters of Battle wearing nun-style power armor descended from the sky. Alongside them, tactical support personnel of the Valkyrie units, each wearing fully covering new-model Valkyrie armor, also rappelled down to land under the escort of Imperial servitor troops.
"Mission: suppress the riot. Eliminate all rebels."
Black-and-red cloaks fluttered in the wind. Beneath a hood, a gray-haired, red-eyed woman with pupils shaped like a serpent's stared coldly. Raven extended a finger clad in sharp, wine-red fingertip guards, her voice inexplicably low and eerie, "They really know how to use people... whatever. Three Imperial Standard Days to finish it. The sooner it's done, the sooner we clock out and go home for the holiday."
"Yes!" ×N
In truth, Natasha Shiora's encouragement wasn't needed at all. This temporarily assembled mixed force under the command of the Valkyrie units began methodically suppressing and cleansing the colonial rioters.
Gunfire erupted from all directions.
The massacre had begun.
Although the natives greatly outnumbered them, and had obtained some military weapons by looting the warehouses built on the planet's surface by this civilian merchant group, it was obvious that the Empire's suppression forces were far more powerful than they had imagined.
Compared to the merchant gang's hired mercenaries and low-level armed automatons, they were more accurate in their shooting, better equipped, packing heavier firepower, stronger on an individual level, and far more proficient in tactical coordination.
"Bastards! You faithless scum!"
A heavily furred bear-type beastman let out a furious roar, spreading both arms wide. Wisps of energy resembling magic gathered at the center of his palms, and a fireball more than two meters in diameter immediately shot forward.
Whoosh!
Next came an almost inaudible, piercing shriek. The fireball was extinguished. The giant bear-man stared in horror. In the next second, a streak of red light flashed past. He only felt himself suddenly lifted into the air. Before he could even understand what had happened, he completely lost consciousness...
"Magic. A low-magic medieval world. Humans exist alongside a small number of demi-human lifeforms."
Reviewing the briefing transmitted by the shipboard servitors to her personal tactical terminal, Natasha muttered under her breath. With a flick of her hand, she picked up the crimson raven feather embedded deep in the bear-man's brain.
"What a sin."
This was Natasha's only evaluation of this Imperial civilian merchant house.
If the Imperial military had personally stepped in, even though it would still look like heads rolling and blood flowing like rivers, there would at least be clear boundaries and strict procedural regulations.
But those civilian hyenas had no bottom line at all.
The gap between upper and lower limits was vast. In this profession, one could witness both humanity's stars shining in moments of courage and passionate generosity, and humanoid stars shining in crimes of utter vileness and depravity.
"Honestly, hanging that civilian merchant from a streetlamp would still be letting him off easy."
"Colluding with local nobility to seize land, operating colonial outposts to encroach on political power, using deception to dissolve alliance will, draining native wealth through trade goods, then tearing up agreements and sweeping in to occupy once the timing is right..."
Natasha snapped her fingers in admiration. "A textbook example of colonial plunder planning." Of course, admiration aside, there was not the slightest trace of pity on her face.
Because she was here to kill. She was here to destroy.
As an elite within the Imperial auxiliary forces—one of the Valkyrie units directly commanded by Her Highness Alyssa Benares of the Sacred Selene Empire—Natasha had been perfectly clear about her role from the very beginning.
"Anything you want to say, Miss Mei?"
Sensing the sound of someone landing behind her, along with the tingling numbness of rhythmically pulsing ionized air, Raven waved her hand without turning her head. "Still picking up missions at random? As a former veteran mercenary, leaving task selection to me is obviously the better choice."
"Tch..."
Lightning flowed along crimson oni horns. Cold, solemn, and immaculate combat boots stepped onto ground where flesh had been mashed into sludge. Raiden Mei curled her lips.
Natasha's words hit a sore spot.
This mission she had accepted... it had gone horribly wrong.
Perhaps she had already prepared herself for everything when she joined the Imperial military. Doing this kind of dirty work was acceptable. But not minding it, and actually doing it, were two different things.
Especially a job like this—mosquito-meat scraps, with almost no room for reconstruction or whitewashing. A pure executioner's task. Just killing.
The Valkyrie unit famed throughout the Imperial military as the 'Thunder Queen' paused for a moment. "That said, the full responsibility for this riot lies with that dead merchant."
"Being jealous of his peers and venting it on laborers was one thing. But to get drunk and go on inspections, swaggering around, hurling insults, and still not strengthening security? That was basically provoking rebellion."
After a long while, as if feeling some pity for those slaughtered, miserable rebels, Raiden Mei suddenly spoke up, "Do you think... there's still a possibility of accepting their surrender?"
Natasha spread her hands irritably. "What do you think?"
"My dear Lady Raiden, war drives people mad. In that kind of environment, humanity erodes away."
"They've already tasted the sweetness of riot and plunder. Perhaps many of them were forced to take up arms, but they have already inflicted their own misfortune and hatred hundreds or thousands of times over onto other people."
As someone who had clawed her way up through the mercenary world, Natasha took a very open view of it. "This kind of logic has no solution. So sometimes, deceiving oneself isn't such a bad medicine."
"Mei, tell me—are they Imperial citizens?"
"No."
"Are they within the jurisdiction of the Imperial government?"
"Not yet."
"Are they followers of Her Majesty Selene, and your compatriots?"
"No."
"Then that settles it."
Snap!
With a snap of her fingers, Natasha wore an expression of approval, as if praising a teachable child. "A 'three-nothings' planet. No common ground. The beautiful future we fight for does not include them—at least not for now. Let's hurry up and finish this damn mission, then head back to the Imperial Capital..."
As she spoke—
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Several guided rockets streaked in, aimed straight at Natasha and Raiden Mei, who stood at the center of the camp surrounded by guards—clearly figures of importance.
BOOOOOOM—!!
A pillar of lightning erupted from the ground out of nowhere, detonating the rockets midair. Thick electric arcs, as wide as buckets, spread outward like a raging tide. In an instant, the entire camp was filled with unending thunderous explosions.
Wave after wave of violent blasts shook the residential area of the camp, making buildings creak and groan as roofs were ripped away by the savage shockwaves. Rolling lightning flooded every corner.
Cowering beneath a wall near the housing area, several rioters immediately dropped their missile launchers, screaming as they turned to flee. But in the next moment, a lightning arc pierced through the bodies of three rioters bunched together front to back, bursting them into a spray of blood mist.
Even their heads were split apart. One of them was flung away, tumbling to a stop right at Raiden Mei's feet.
"See? They don't recognize our mercy anyway..."
Natasha shrugged and stepped closer.
"That's why I say—don't take on these trivial, penny-ante missions anymore. Just think about it. What kind of good job could it be, a task picked up along the way during a fleet's return trip? Don't be tempted by small gains next time, got it? Be good..."
"Alright, alright. I know. I'm not some naive sheltered lady."
Rubbing her forehead, Raiden Mei shot a sideways glance at Raven, who was speaking in the tone of a worldly senior.
"You even said 'be good.' Hmph. Well, it's just how I feel. I took this mission for higher pay and more merit credits. We really have changed..."
She then swept her gaze across the surroundings. The performance of the Imperial auxiliary troops, Imperial servitor forces, and the Sisters of Battle was flawless.
Only the Valkyrie units were different. More emotional by nature and regarded as the moral benchmark of the Imperial military, they were clearly ill-suited for this role—especially those who had come from St. Freya Academy.
This kind of work—whoever wants it can take it. Valkyries should do less of it.
Raiden Mei thought silently.
...
"Cough—cough—cough... damn it... damn it... damn that merchant Shoke! Damn the Empire!"
In one corner of the camp, gunfire continued without pause. A ferocious-looking young man crawled out of a sewage ditch. His rag-like clothes had been fused to his flesh by high heat, forming horrifying scars.
One of his legs was already broken. He could only drag his crippled limb with all his strength. Gasping for breath, he stretched out his hand toward the ragged, bearded man still in the ditch. "Uncle Cam... Uncle Cam..."
"Not dead yet."
Coughing up blood, his skin beneath the mud completely drained of color, the bearded man struggled to reach out and grab the young man's hand. As he fought his way onto the bank, he laughed at himself. "But probably soon."
"Evan, after we killed that merchant, the Empire won't let us go. I'm sorry. I led you all down a road of no return..."
"Don't say stupid things. What road of no return? Even if we hadn't resisted, those greedy vampires would've drained us dry anyway. Damn cowards—we should never have trusted them. Drugging our food and water so we couldn't use battle aura or magic!"
"Still, look at how ugly he was when he died—hahaha... worth it!"
With great effort, Evan hauled Cam onto the bank. Perhaps the vengeance had eased the hatred in his heart. The young man, his face marked by a laser-gun penetration wound, laughed loudly, sounding exhilarated.
Until—
"Uncle Cam? Uncle Cam!"
Only then did he realize that the old man who had always looked after him had gone still. Terror filled his face as he desperately tugged at his uncle's hand. When he turned the body over, what greeted him was a horrific sight—a massive gash in the waist and abdomen, flesh torn open, with intestines and twitching organs plainly visible.
"Uncle Cam! No—no no no—don't leave me! You're my only family!"
The thrill brought by revenge faded away. Evan screamed hysterically.
But death was death.
Like a bolt from a clear sky, all thoughts of retreating into the pre-dug underground tunnels vanished. Evan's entire body began to convulse. His eyes filled with hatred as muffled, painful howls poured out of him, as if they were being torn bit by bit from the depths of his soul.
"The Empire... damn the Empire!! Ah—I'll kill you all! I'll kill every last one of you..."
Ratatatatatat!
Howling, Evan jumped up on his crippled leg, only for his body to be riddled with bullets and crash back down heavily.
"What's this guy screaming about?"
"No idea."
These were Imperial military soldiers striding past, unhurriedly and methodically cleansing every rioter they encountered.
"Hiss... hiss..."
His consciousness grew increasingly blurred. Evan struggled to roll over. Amid splattering blood, he looked up at the sky. The once-clear blue heavens were now filled with smoke and haze, no longer discernible.
Shifting his gaze, he looked toward the center of the camp, where an unfinished castle—originally meant to be the merchant's residence—had been constructed. Upon the glittering, gold-inlaid windows of its tall tower stood a sacred statue of a noble silver-haired goddess. It was mostly complete, still somewhat hazy, yet carried a kindly, benevolent expression.
The Imperial Empress...
He knew of her. The holy Selene spoken of by the merchants. The Divine Empress.
Bah. Holy, my ass.
If not for you and your people, he and his family would have lived forever in a pastoral, poem-like life.
With nothing but loathing and contempt in his eyes, Evan spat out a blood clot and cursed weakly, "Fuck you, Selene. Fuck everything done in Selene's name. You're not holy at all."
"Selene... I hate you. I hate you and your Empire. I hate everything about you..."
Then, Evan died.
An Imperial servitor soldier, discovering that he still had breath left, finished him off with a follow-up shot, exploding his head.
The killing did not stop.
This was only a minor interlude.
BOOOOM! BOOOOM! BOOOOM—
...
"Queen, what's wrong?"
Hearing the call, Selene, who had been resting lightly, finally raised her head and looked straight ahead, meeting the owner of those eyes face to face.
Her well-proportioned features carried a hint of adorable baby fat, radiating a girl-like innocence and liveliness. In Alyssa's large eyes was written pure confusion.
Just now, it seemed as though the Empress had smiled.
"No, it's nothing. Just a trivial matter."
—
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