Rem charged the Witch Cult without a single hesitation, swinging her meteor hammer with a feral grin. The whirling iron mass in her hand seemed to embody her unleashed feelings.
She knew Shichen would let her follow her heart.
She knew that with Shichen here, all she needed to do was what she wanted to do.
Though she had found release and been reborn, the hatred for her annihilated village could not share the same sky—every Witch Cultist deserved to die!
Whether it was her sister's horn, the villagers' blood debt, or her parents' murder—she would avenge them all.
Mana surged. Wind rose around Rem. A white horn like carved jade sprouted on her brow. It didn't look the least bit out of place—its beauty was feral.
The Hornless Demon was right—why not start in her crimson form?
Stories had their uses; Rem's hatred for the Witch Cult ran bone-deep, so she went straight to demon power—even if it meant losing her reason.
But it didn't matter. Her sister was here, and Shichen was here. She didn't need to worry about anything.
"Shichen, Rem… she'll be alright?" Ram asked anxiously, eyes fixed on Rem.
"She's fine. She needs one last release. I'm here. Nothing will happen."
"You really did figure out everything about me and Rem… Did she tell you?" Ram shot Shichen a look, something complicated in her expression.
"Take a guess~"
"...You— I really do hate you," Ram muttered.
"Is that how a maid should talk? Careful or I'll have Roswaal fire you. He'd definitely listen to me."
"...I'm sorry, I was wrong." Ram apologized in a heartbeat.
"That's better." Shichen nodded cheerfully.
"Shichen, how do you still have the heart to joke? Is Rem really okay? The Witch Cult should be strong, right?" Emilia swatted Shichen, eyes glued to Rem.
"Relax. I'm watching her the whole time. If I step in, she won't have a chance to avenge herself," Shichen soothed.
"But you still shouldn't—ah! Rem, look out!"
"I've got her."
BOOM—!
Ting—!
A fireball streaking toward Rem burst against a transparent half-dome of force in midair. Not a spark touched her.
"Hee-hee~"
Rem didn't care in the slightest. Laughing wildly, she swung the iron sphere on its chain into a Witch Cultist's skull.
Crunch—!
Like a watermelon smashed, the man's head exploded. Red and white sprayed in a ring.
Rem's black-and-white maid dress was painted red in an instant. She didn't spare it a thought. As if reason had fled her, she swung that silver serpent of a chain with a roaring hiss, hunting for more prey.
The Cultists weren't going to sit and die. Ignoring their fallen, they scattered, dodging the whipping iron snake.
No time to analyze the barrier; they drew weapons from their robes—short blades shaped like mock crosses, vulgar things.
They gripped their toys tight, covering one another and watching the charging Rem, forming something like a battle line.
Several black-clad bodies already lay sprawled, but the remaining Cultists still numbered in the dozens.
Their formation might be good against ambushers. Rem, however, was charging head-on.
Brute force creates miracles; one force breaks ten thousand methods.
Rem stamped the ground, her skirt fluttering wild, vaulted at speed into the black-clad line—and without hesitation, brought down the murderous meteor hammer.
Her target: heads.
Clueless about demon power, the Cultists threw up their blades to block the impact.
The result was obvious.
Screech—!
Splurt—!
First came the shriek of metal as short blade met iron, sparks spitting—then a silhouette's head burst like a fruit.
Blood sprayed over trees and soaked the ground.
The scene was gory. Rem reveled in it, her smile feral and exultant.
Shichen's face didn't change; he was happy for Rem. Emilia and the others, too, kept their expressions steady—only concern for Rem showed in their eyes.
Rem needed none of it. She kicked the headless corpse away with a bloody splash and sent it flying at a retreating shadow.
The shadow didn't flinch—he chopped the corpse in half with a sweeping cut, clearing his view to flee.
Unfortunately for him, Rem was fast. In the time it took him to swing, she was already on him. The iron ball loomed, its shadow swallowing him whole.
Screech—!
He had only time to fling up his short blade—and met the same end as the last.
Splurt—!
The hammer smashed down through skull and torso. Red burst like fireworks; gore tainted everything.
Chunks of body thudded to earth; pale bones showed through.
"Ahahahaha!"
Rem laughed, savoring vengeance.
"None of you are getting away! Damn Witch Cult!"
Hate dripped from her voice. Her cute face was spattered crimson; bright eyes lorded it over the shadows. In this instant, she was euphoric.
The Cultists had no intention of running. Even cut in half, they held the ring around her.
Clearly, they had another objective. But they'd have to get past the obstacle first.
They stopped dancing away and committed everything to killing her.
Whoosh—!
Suddenly a lance of rock ripped toward Rem, impossibly fast—she didn't even react.
But—
Ting—!
A half-dome rose before her again and caught the rocky spike with ease.
"Rem, don't get cocky. Even if you heal fast, I don't want to see you hurt," Shichen warned.
"Got it, Shichen." Rem flashed him a sweet smile.
"Eh? Rem is aware?" Ram blinked in surprise.
"Likely just a reflex answer," Shichen said, watching Rem turn back to the Cultists. The heat and madness in her eyes made him shake his head.
"Even so, your place in Rem's heart is very high," Ram murmured.
Even at her most feral, Rem could still "see" Ram—more as an obsession than a conversation. That she could reply to Shichen at all meant his place had surpassed Ram's. It was what it was. Ram cared deeply for her sister, but hadn't put Rem first—or tried to break the fixation. Her own heart had someone else now, even if she still loved Rem. Rem was the same.
"I see," Shichen said mildly. He had no interest in competing with Ram. No need.
If he were a girl, maybe he'd ask the old question: if he and Ram fell into the water, who would Rem save first? As it was, such comparisons were pointless. Ram was Rem's dear sister—nothing to compare or be jealous about. Better to make Rem like him even more.
Rumble—!
The rock lance didn't work. The Cultists conjured a massive fireball and hurled it.
Heat rolled off it, searing trees and rattling the air as it dropped toward Rem standing her ground.
She stared up at it without fear, skin tasting the bake. Raising one hand, she pointed.
"Huma—!"
A thin membrane of water spread before her, and the fireball slammed into it.
Sssss—!
White steam bloomed, a kettle shrieking to boil. But Rem's defense didn't hold—the fire merely dimmed before pushing on.
The invisible barrier blossomed again, caught the fire, and held it unmoving, then dropped it to the dirt where it scorched the ground black.
Rem, barely a stride away, didn't so much as flinch.
"Rem? What did I say?" Shichen's tone sharpened.
"Sorry, Shichen." Rem turned, bowed her head obediently.
"If you can't block it, dodge. Don't get cocky again."
"I understand…"
"Alright. Leave the magic defense to me. Don't worry about it—finish them."
"Yes!" Rem spun her hammer.
"Oh, and leave me one alive. I need him."
"Shichen, why?" Emilia asked.
"It's simple. These are errand boys. The one behind them hasn't shown up yet."
"The one behind them?" Emilia echoed.