The tension in the tavern rose with each passing second, thick enough to choke on.
Priscilla Barielle's crimson eyes bored into the Bowel Hunter's figure, carefully observing every single twitch of her muscles, every minute shift in posture. She had already deduced that the assassin before her was not merely dangerous, but bothersome—the kind of opponent that punished hesitation mercilessly. Missing even one strike would not yield pretty results.
Her grip on the Yang Sword tightened ever so slightly as she stood tall and composed, the very picture of sovereign confidence, patiently waiting for her opponent to make the first move.
Elsa Granhiert, on the other hand, was fantasizing.
She imagined the warmth of spilling entrails, the texture of guts sliding free beneath her fingers. Never in her career as an assassin had she been able to gut such a rare individual—one who wielded the Sword of Power itself. The thought alone made her spine tingle.
She would not miss this opportunity.
"O-oi! Lady!" Felt called out, her voice cracking as she pulled out the insignia and pointed toward it with trembling hands. "I-I've got the goods! So just gimme my money and get outta here!!!"
"Hm~?" Elsa hummed, her head tilting as if she had only just noticed the girl's existence. "What did the slum rat say? She wants the money~?" She grinned, turning her gaze toward the small figure behind Merlin. "Well, you failed the job, so no money from me, darling~. I should've never given this job to such an incompetent slum rat like you."
"W-wha—"
"Well, maybe if you had done your job properly and not let these strangers catch on to you, then maybe you wouldn't have had to die tonight." Elsa placed a hand against her own cheek in mock sadness. "Such a shame~"
"Oh, spare me the act, bitch."
All attention snapped toward Merlin as he raised his voice, cutting through the tavern like a blade. "There was never any money to begin with."
"My, my~" Elsa's lips curved wider. "To understand me so well~. Maybe I should appeal to Mama to keep you as my pet~"
A soft blush crept onto her cheeks as her tongue flicked out, wetting her seductive lips.
Felt's knees gave out.
She collapsed to the floor as the realization hit her fully. From the way the woman had spoken—no, admitted—it was clear. This had been a trap from the very beginning, and she had obediently played the pawn. Worse still, she had led everyone here to their doom.
"Hey! Girl!"
Felt looked up sharply at the voice scolding her at a time like this. "Who told you to make that face?! You givin' up without even trying?! You wanna die so young?!"
The speaker was Merlin—the strange, annoyingly confident young man with long, silky hair.
"Well don't," he snapped. "'Cause I need your fucking help right now!"
"Get up!" he barked. "I need you to run out and call for help as soon as possible! Got it?!"
Despite the crushing weight of guilt and fear, a more rational part of Felt's mind screamed at her to move. She had messed up once. She couldn't afford to do it again.
"Ho~?" Priscilla spoke coolly. "You require help even though the Goddess herself has decided to side with you?"
"Well, ain't nothin' wrong with being cautious, right?" Merlin replied, positioning himself behind her.
In his hands was the katana he had just created.
He had never touched a sword in his life—or so he believed. And yet, the blade felt familiar. The way he gripped it, the way his stance adjusted instinctively, the way his mind searched for openings—it all came frighteningly naturally. His instincts screamed at him to charge, to swing, to kill.
"Getting help~? In the slums?" Elsa giggled. "Well, whatever. I still can't let you leave~"
Her arm snapped forward.
The knife flew with murderous force, destined to strike straight between Felt's eyes.
It was so fast that even Priscilla didn't react.
—or rather, she didn't deem it necessary.
CLANG!
Just as the blade was about to pierce her skull, it was intercepted midair by a clean, desperate swing of Merlin's katana, sending it clattering harmlessly away.
"RUN, DAMMIT!!!"
Felt gritted her teeth, anger flaring at being ordered around—but she knew. If she didn't listen, they were all dead. Being dead weight burned her pride like acid.
She stood.
Activating her Divine Protection, she sprinted toward the door faster than should've been possible.
"Not so fast!" Elsa snarled, lunging after the fleeing girl.
Her dagger arm pulled back, muscles coiling to release every ounce of power into a single, lethal arc—
—but before she could even move half a meter forward, her arm was nearly severed.
Priscilla's massive crimson blade tore through the space between them, slicing Elsa's wrist so deeply it left her arm dangling uselessly, like a puppet with its strings cut.
"Tch!" Elsa grunted—not in pain, but irritation.
"Slow down, cur." Priscilla flicked the blood from her blade disdainfully. "You're not going anywhere. Not under mine divine self's watch."
Elsa's gaze remained locked on the door Felt had escaped through, her annoyance hidden behind a stoic, poisonous smile.
"Oh my~ She really ran away." Her tone dropped. "Well… that did worsen my mood quite a lot."
In an instant, she lunged—slithering past Priscilla's attack with serpentine grace—straight toward Merlin.
"HEY! WHY ME?!" Merlin barely managed to parry her first slash before being overwhelmed by a rapid barrage of strikes.
I'm not lasting like this.
So he made the most obvious decision.
He dropped his weapon.
And ran.
"Ara~ turning away from me?" Elsa chased after him eagerly, his back exposed as if inviting her blade.
"NOOO! STAY AWAYYYY!!!" Merlin screamed, sprinting with everything he had. He glanced back—Elsa was gaining fast. "EEEEKKKK—!"
Then he smirked.
"—Just kidding~! Fuck you, nasty bitch!"
He spun around, now running backward, flashing her the holiest of middle fingers.
Elsa blinked.
Confused.
That confusion lasted half a second.
She abruptly halted and leapt onto the roof.
Blood spilled from a deep cut across her back.
She tried to regenerate—
—but the wound burned.
It wouldn't close.
"Tch." Her eyes snapped downward.
"The dog became an ape," she muttered. "How amusing~"
Priscilla stood below, sword resting at her shoulder, free hand on her hip.
"Dammit, Priscilla!" Merlin shouted. "I risked my life for that stunt and you wasted it!"
"Hm?" She ignored him entirely. "It would be preferable if you stopped running in that ridiculous manner."
"Huh?"
Merlin realized he hadn't stopped moving.
Running backwards.
No—tumbling, not running.
"Huh? Heh—?!"
DHUM!
"Kyah—!"
"Urgh!"
He crashed straight into someone.
Silver hair.
Violet eyes.
Satella—?!
No. Emilia.
Right. Her trinket.
Before his brain could finish spiraling, he panicked.
"Ah! I-I'm so sorry if I touched something wrong!" He scrambled off her instantly, brushing dust from his clothes like his life depended on it.
"Ow…" She groaned. "Who're… you?"
"Good question," Merlin muttered. Memory still sucks in this world.
"Dear~" Elsa's voice purred behind him. "You're still quite ignorant of me, aren't you?"
She charged.
"And my real prey is here too. How wonderful~!"
Merlin spun, desperately trying to summon mana—
—but Elsa was already there.
One meter away.
No time.
He'll die.
Again.
Pain.
Pain.
Pain—
Wow. Giving up again? Like always.
You think you'll do better next time—but you won't.
You're not good enough.
Can he give up?
When a beautiful girl stands behind him. Will he let her die unaware like last time?
When he had just met a haughty princess. Will he give up the connection they built up today?
Will give it all up?
Will he give up?
No.
Looking down, he saw it.
Elsa's foot stepped on his shadow.
What if…
I wish… she'd just disappear.
SHWOOF!
His shadow writhed violently, what was earlier just an area devoid of light was now a swirling vortex devoid of all connections.
Elsa's leg sank into it—as if into an endless, bone-chilling void.
Before she could recover—
Merlin's eyes flared blue.
A metal pole erupted from his shadow and pierced straight through Elsa's forehead.
Wasting absolutely zero time, he spun around a full 360° and kicked her square in the mouth.
The impact of the powerful kick broke Elsa's jaw and her body ragdolled across the ground—straight toward the warehouse entrance.
Before she could recover her balance—
A blazing slash descended, totally severing both her arms.
Priscilla.
Blood filled Elsa's lungs.
Flames scorched her back.
"Honestly," Priscilla scoffed, standing over her, "I expected more from the highly feared Bowel Hunter. Look at you now—screeching like a pig in a slaughterhouse."
"Pathetic…"
Elsa coughed blood over and over again. Her vision turing dark and mind becoming more and more light. It was very clear that she had failed the mission. Now all awaited her was Mama's punishments.
Her regeneration failed her.
With the last of her strength—
she ran.
"Ah, fuck—she's running like a bitch now!" Merlin steadied himself, drawing mana as blue light gathered in his palms.
"American time, boys~"