Red Evil Mercenaries
One day, in the largest city on the border between Durumil and Tronen—Redbin—a whirlwind of slaughter swept through the dark back alleys as black as night itself.
A blue sword aura like a rushing wind mingled with a red energy, slicing through the vermin who arrogantly called themselves a necessary evil. These parasites preyed on the weak, infesting the city like rot, and now they were reaped and left to dry under the sun.
Until now, they'd tormented innocent people without remorse, plundering them while relying on their meager strength and pack mentality. They never once considered their actions wrong—stealing from others was just natural to them. Murder, rape, assault, theft, extortion, blackmail. These were the baseline crimes they committed. And in a kingdom where slavery still thrived, human trafficking was especially rampant. Their rap sheet in Redbin was long indeed.
Yet for some reason, the nobles ruling Redbin and the city guards sworn to protect it turned a blind eye, sweeping it all under the rug. Emboldened, the thugs strutted like tigers with wings, acting as if the world was theirs.
For these parasites lurking in the back alleys, the apocalypse began at the entrance—the threshold of their domain.
“Tch. We don't have time for this.”
“Hurry up and finish it, Bella. Think of it as doing some good after a long time.”
“Yeah, beast. We already decided to do this, so quit grumbling and make it quick.”
“Fine, fine, I got it.”
Two women and a small girl stepped into the alley. Each one was extraordinary in her own right, but what caught the eye first was their stunning beauty. One was like a fresh lily in full bloom, pure and innocent. The other was a vibrant rose, drawing all gazes to her.
“Whoa... Hey, you lot. New faces around here, huh?”
“No shit, of course. Bitches this hot don't come around often. What, some noble ladies slumming it?”
“Noble ladies? Look at their outfits. What noble dresses like that?”
“True that. Anyway, what brings such pretty ladies to a dangerous dump like this?”
The innocent purity and flashy allure seemed mismatched at first, but together they amplified each other's charm. The lily's freshness made the rose's vibrance pop even more, and the rose's boldness highlighted the lily's delicate beauty. Even the healthy tan-skinned tomboyish girl with them exuded the fresh sea breeze of budding youth—a promise that, grown up, she'd rival the others without falling short.
With every step, they captivated the onlookers. Beauty like theirs was rare even in a big city like Redbin.
“Ugh, fucking disgusting. Hey, you shitheads, gonna keep staring?”
“Rip their eyes out right now. Who the hell do these maggots think they're ogling?”
Of course, the words spilling from their lips were violent, a stark contrast to their lovely faces. But that only made the arrogant thugs—who fancied themselves rulers of Redbin's shadows—draw closer, greed gleaming in their eyes. And it wasn't long before they realized...
“Gah, guaaah...!”
“Run that way!”
...it was a fatal mistake. Too late, they learned that behind this beauty lurked thorns laced with instant-death poison.
Saintess Sword Style 2.
“Whirlwind.”
The sword, infused with blue sword aura, whipped through the air in a flash. From the start, it showed no mercy—dozens of wind-like slashes tore through the fleeing thugs, severing at least two limbs each. If it took the right arm, the left leg followed. Right leg? Then the left arm.
“Gaaaaah...! My arm, my fu—!”
“Aaaagh...! My leg...!”
Those who'd lost at least two limbs crawled on the ground. Reaching out to their comrades ahead, they begged for help...
“H-Help me...!”
“Sorry!”
“We gotta save ourselves!”
...but the ones they called allies callously ignored them, scrambling to save their own skins. But abandoning their former comrades like that? All it earned them was...
“What disloyal fucks. Look at 'em ditching their buddies to save their asses. Oh well, tough luck—this way's a dead end too.”
The woman with red energy blazing even fiercer than the blue aura that had terrified them—perhaps more brutally so. Bella. She'd already shouldered her massive greatsword, blocking the alley mouth.
“Hah, huff...! When the hell...?”
“Sis is busy, so let's just take one arm and one leg each. Better than losing everything, right?”
“P-Please, spare us... Why are you doing this to us out of nowhere?!”
The one with the strongest survival instinct among them lunged forward, dropping to his knees before her, sobbing and pleading. Bella just shrugged nonchalantly, tilting her head.
“Uh... who knows?”
As if reasons were optional—like how they'd tormented others for no reason at all.
“'Cause I just don't like the look of you?”
With those words, she slammed her greatsword down on the shoulder of the nearest beggar. Crunch-crack! Bones shattered, and the arm exploded off in a ragged stump.
“Grk...!”
He clutched the stump, foaming at the mouth in agony before passing out. Blood splattered her face, but Bella ignored it, casually resting her greatsword on her shoulder again.
“You'd probably be better off getting sliced by the girl back there. I ain't great at fine control. Hers are clean cuts—less pain. So...”
Mana dyed her body crimson, flames roaring around her like wildfire.
“I'm in a rush. Let's end this quick.”
“Y-You, fucking biiiiiitch...!”
Cornered rats bite cats, or so they say. Eyes rolled back in desperation under her overwhelming presence, a few thugs charged. Bella feigned admiration.
“Oh? Got some guts, huh?”
“Die, you fucking whore...!”
“Fuck off, retard. You think that'll kill me?”
A few punches from Bella sent them flying into walls. But that created a tiny gap in her blockade. Some seized the chance and slipped through.
“Hey, you fucks...! Where ya going?!”
“You crazy bitch whore! You'll pay for this!”
“What?! Who're you calling a whore, you psycho?! My husband said I'm pink down there!”
Regardless of Bella's shouts, the thugs fled vowing revenge. She just scratched the back of her head, muttering quietly.
“Tch, poor bastards. That's real hell up ahead.”
Unable to hear her, the thugs raced on, convinced they'd survived. They'd report to the higher-ups, drag those rotten bitches back, and make them pay. But blocking their path now was...
Long hair braided into a donut bun. Light brown skin and a mischievous, rascal-like face. For such a cute girl, her expression was stern—mismatched yet strangely fitting. Dinaria.
“Halt there.”
This little girl had seemed half-asleep listening to Theo's story, but inwardly, she'd been burning with rage.
“What the—some brat...!”
“Why do you lot torment the weak?”
Dinaria knew back alleys too—from her distant past as a child. Even in her youngest days, she'd never been weak. Born with the Fist King's talents, weakness would have been weirder. But that was her story—not those around her.
Trash who'd targeted her friends to bait her, just to check her power. Watching those friends suffer had hurt so much. In that moment, Theo's wretched state overlapped with those old friends in her eyes. (Though those thugs had all ended up in the afterlife by her hand.)
Now, Dinaria stoked that long-buried fury in her chest.
“What're you yapping, fuck...?! Move, kid!”
“Even with this great strength, I never oppressed the weak...”
“Sh-shit...!”
“Seems the rotten minds of parasites like you never change with time.”
Even as men twice her size charged, Dinaria stood unflinching.
Rasad Ryu Fist Style, Chapter 2.
“Dark Revolution.”
Poof— The girl's form vanished in an instant. Those daring to rush her clutched their eyes, blood streaming as they collapsed. When Dinaria reappeared, she held several pairs of eyeballs in her hand.
“...Live out your days in darkness, like the maggots you are.”
Squelch. She crushed them in her fist. As she stepped away, the thugs—clutching their empty sockets and groaning—had their arms and legs shatter, crumpling to the ground.
About an hour later, the back alley was filled with the crawling wounded: missing limbs, eyeless sockets. Strangely, not a single one was dead. As if deliberately spared to suffer in agony.