Killing Machine (2)
The Humian soldiers were thrown into utter confusion when Beatrice, who had maintained complete silence and indifference until that moment, suddenly spoke. They had assumed the woman was either deaf, mute, or mentally broken, only to realize she had understood everything all along. The thought of what might come next filled them with dread. Dressed in refined attire and possessing a beauty worthy of being recorded in history books, they had naturally concluded that her master must be an individual of immense power and status. Having hurled vulgar remarks at such a person’s maid, they feared that if word of their behavior reached her master during the handover, punishment would be inevitable. To the Humians, power meant precisely that.
Yet they were mistaken about one crucial detail: while Beatrice’s master was indeed a figure of high authority, that master belonged to the Demon Lord Castle. She was the Demon Lord’s woman.
“Ah, miss… you could speak… all this time?”
“E-Er… you should have said something… This joke has gone too far……”
The Humian soldiers from the advance party, who had been exchanging crude jokes at Beatrice’s expense, began to chatter nervously in an attempt to smooth things over. Though inwardly tense, they forced themselves to act as though nothing were amiss. They had no idea how trivial their fears were compared to the reality they now faced.
“A thousand years ago or now, you people have not changed at all. Even when you received orders from your father to rescue refugees from the burning Demon Lord Castle, you showed nothing but your filthy, ugly true nature.”
“…Eh? A thousand years ago…?”
“W-What are you talking about? M-Miss?”
The soldiers, who had mistaken Beatrice for a high-ranking noble’s maid and a fellow Humian, were visibly shaken by her words. A Humian lived barely a hundred years; how could she speak of events from a thousand years ago? Moreover, she seemed to be referencing the historical assault on Hemonigent, recounting it as though she had witnessed the war firsthand—an impossibility for any Humian.
“You trampled, slaughtered, and enslaved the powerless and the innocent with violence. You raped wives while forcing them to watch their husbands’ corpses. You gouged out children’s eyes and severed their limbs before raping their mothers. For mere amusement, you forced fathers and daughters to commit incest.”
“She really is insane, isn’t she?”
“Ah, we were scared for nothing! She’s completely out of her mind!”
Beatrice began calmly listing the atrocities she had once witnessed. Her voice remained quiet and businesslike on the surface, yet the fury beneath it burned fiercer than a northern gale sweeping across a winter plain. The cold, measured tone carried an anger ill-suited to the word “doll,” resembling nothing so much as a merciless blizzard. The soldiers, seeing only her composed exterior, failed to perceive the icy rage and instead relaxed, convinced she was merely a deranged Humian woman.
Beatrice smiled at their carefree attitude.
“Hey, she’s clearly crazy anyway. Why don’t we report her to the commander and keep her at our base?”
“Are you out of your mind?! She’s a Humian! That would be a crime!”
“No, think about it! She’s just spouting nonsense because she’s lost her mind. If we raise her in secret, who would ever know? As long as we keep the kids quiet—”
Thud!!!
With the supply of sex slaves having dried up three years ago, one Humian soldier whose lust had reached a boiling point crossed the line with a dangerous suggestion. In an age where any act of cruelty toward non-Humian women was celebrated as heroic, violence against one’s own kind remained strictly forbidden among Humians. Yet the soldier, already enslaved by desire, no longer saw the laws that governed his society. Even the comrade who had rebuked him now watched Beatrice with greedy, glistening eyes, clearly tempted by the same vile plan.
He never finished voicing it.
“Wh-What the—!!!”
“Uwaaaaaaaaagh!!!!”
In an instant, the head of the soldier who had proposed keeping Beatrice exploded. Fragments of skull and brain matter sprayed in every direction. The remaining soldiers recoiled in panic at their comrade’s sudden death. The headless corpse stood for a moment, swaying as though belatedly realizing its own demise, before finally collapsing.
Staring at the gruesome remains, the soldiers trembled and turned their gazes toward the woman standing before them. Beatrice showed no intention of concealing that the death had come from her. From the diamond-patterned straps running down her sleeves, something had emerged just below the white collar at her neck and extended to her wrists. The device protruding from her shoulder was unlike any weapon the Humian soldiers, familiar with magical firearms, had ever seen. A rectangular opening had appeared on her shoulder, revealing an internal mechanism that faintly radiated heat, as though it had just fired something powered by mana.
“Sh-She tricked us…!!!”
“Wh-Who the hell are you?!”
“She’s not a Humian!!!”
The terrified soldiers scrambled for their weapons, desperately trying to ready their rifles and activate the mana stones within. Their efforts were in vain.
Thud!!! Thud!! Thud!!! Thud!!! Thud!!!
Beatrice’s shoulder-mounted weapon fired a rapid succession of black spheres—condensed Luina given physical form. Unlike the Humians’ mana beams, these projectiles delivered devastating physical force upon impact, pulverizing their targets completely. The soldiers never even managed to aim, let alone fire. Their deaths were swift and utterly futile. In less than three seconds, the entire advance party lay dead.
The surroundings fell deathly silent. Amid the spreading stench of blood, only Beatrice’s smile shone. It was a cold, derisive smirk—the contemptuous grin of one who had crushed something filthy and repulsive. A chilling joy born from scorn and disdain.
“Pests must be exterminated. That is the right thing to do.”
The fallen Humian corpses disgusted her, yet at the same time they offered a small measure of relief to her frozen rage. Standing before the cooling bodies, Beatrice remained perfectly calm. Her emotions had grown even more composed than before, and not a trace of pity could be found in her expression.
After a brief silence, the main Humian force arrived with a clamor of footsteps, transport vehicles, and the tremors of massive magical siege engines. Their march had been triumphant, almost like a victory parade—until anxious murmurs began to spread. As they drew closer to the advance party’s position, they saw the corpses of their comrades. Every single soldier had been slaughtered.
The commander pushed through the ranks and ordered a halt.
“Stop!! Halt!! Halt!! Halt!!!”
He, too, had witnessed the fate of the advance party from behind. Not one soldier remained alive; all lay bloodied on the ground. In their midst stood a single maid, silently watching them. A chill the commander could not understand crept up his spine.
“Wh-Who are you?! Was this your doing?!”
His urgent question met with no response. Beatrice merely gazed at the Humian army in silence, her expression dry and emotionless.
“I asked who you are!!! Answer or we will open fire!!! Prepare to fire!!!”
Click!!
At the commander’s sharp command, the front-line marksmen efficiently readied their rifles and took aim at the maid. The mana stones and circuits embedded in their weapons began to glow, signaling that all preparations for firing were complete. The overwhelming display would have unnerved anyone who recognized the danger. Yet the mysterious maid began walking calmly toward the Humian forces.
Few could remain composed in the face of such a crisis—unless they were too innocent or foolish to understand the danger, had resigned themselves to death, or did not perceive any threat at all. The commander sensed the last of these possibilities from the maid, and the chill running down his spine intensified into outright dread. It was the Humian commander who now felt truly endangered.