Before the Newbie Cools Off (4)
“Oh, it was such a pleasure today, Lady Serkofti.”
“Yes, I enjoyed it too. Lady Izriel.”
The Londinium Leberun black market. In a dimly lit alley devoid of passersby, two young ladies lifted the hems of their dresses slightly and bowed their heads.
Without hesitation, the pair turned and walked in opposite directions.
“An ordinary day... It's been so long since I've had one. Good thing I finally got out.”
The unassuming young lady brushed her hair behind her ear and curved her lips upward.
“Today was pure bliss.”
Her gentle smile seemed utterly genuine, as if she truly cherished every moment.
“I hope tomorrow brings more days like this.”
But she hadn't taken more than a few steps before halting abruptly.
On the desolate late-night street, the silhouette of a man came into view. He stood squarely in the middle of the road.
“Huh.”
The girl tilted her head slightly.
“Scary.”
Thud.
With a grotesque sound, the man shrouded in mist appeared right before her.
The culprit who had plunged the Londinium district into terror. Jack the Ripper.
“...”
Jack sized her up. Around thirteen years old. A blessed appearance that spoke of a pampered life. Noblewoman, perhaps, but judging by the dress's quality, likely from a modest house. The sort of utterly ordinary young lady found in every city...
Ordinary young lady?
Jack sensed something off. With him standing right there, was there really a girl who could still flash such a radiant smile? Normally, people blanched in terror the instant he appeared.
“Are you the knight here to escort me?”
“...”
“Holding my hand costs a lot, you know. Like, a million gold.”
Her sense of money felt oddly deficient, not just expensive but somehow lacking.
And that emotion... leisure? Confidence that whatever the opponent did, whatever came her way, it didn't matter.
Jack's eyes darted around.
You're no ordinary young lady. High risk. With only four left, no need to take chances.
Jack decided to retreat, dissolving into the mist.
Air Blessing. The goddess's gift lingered even after betraying her.
But—
He couldn't fully turn to mist. The girl simply extended her hand, blowing away the thick fog and snatching Jack's dispersing wrist from the air in one swift motion.
“...Where do you think you're going?”
Sisilia glared at Jack with a pout.
...The disguise had been perfect. She should've looked like any normal girl. Looked like she needed a serious talk with Jack.
To catch a squirrel that loves acorns more than anything, what's the trick? The answer: eliminate every acorn in the world, then leave just one in plain sight.
I figured spreading blessings far and wide and suppressing mana would force him to target the prettiest night in this city—but I didn't expect him to show up so soon.
Sisilia ended her musing and moved to finish him quickly.
But the Jack in her grasp turned to hazy mist and vanished again.
Sisilia drew her sword from thin air without hesitation.
“Wind Shear.”
The storm engulfed the mist.
Sisilia turned. Jack stared blankly up at the Wind Shear barrier.
This area's already a perfect vacuum. Yet the wind doesn't stop.
Jack turned to face Sisilia and asked.
His face was identical to Severus, the one she'd beheaded last time.
How did you do it?
“Wind blows even without air.”
Nonsense. Wind is just air flow. No air, no wind.
“It's the will to make it happen that we call wind. As long as you have that, it always blows.”
Jack glanced at Sisilia's mouth.
You're breathing too. Is that wind as well?
“People can breathe without air. I just can't imagine a world without it.”
Jack silently regarded Sisilia, who spouted impossibilities with a quiet smile. She clearly believed every word.
No, she had to believe it. Without firmly envisioning that image, she couldn't create wind or breathe.
Easier said than done. No ordinary person could imagine themselves breathing without air.
If humans could do that, they'd grasp anything they desired. A realm beyond imitation or imagination. True...
Genius.
No further explanation needed.
Severus raised his sword in a defensive stance.
Sisilia lowered her posture slightly and thrust without hesitation. He deflected the blade off its side, countering instantly.
Sisilia didn't dodge; she slashed left instead. Severus's swing grazed her cheek by a hair's breadth.
But Sisilia's sword carved a deep gash straight into Severus's chest.
Born with perfect distance sense? Or can she see my blade as if in slow motion?
“These days in the Windsor Knights, you can't survive without handling a sword well. Things have changed since your time, senior.”
I see.
Sisilia felt uneasy.
I don't make mistakes. I cleanly severed Severus's soul. So this should be an empty shell.
He spoke coherently, even seemed to think.
And she'd aimed for the heart just now. Yet it only left a wound. A full-powered sword aura strike.
Dodging that meant—
This man was no slouch.
Probably near the original's level. How's an empty shell managing that?
A sudden thought: Fern's clones. Her own chibi version moved convincingly without a soul.
...Indistinguishable from the real thing.
Of course. Memories remained intact.
“Senior.”
Sisilia sheathed her sword. The binding Wind Shear vanished in an instant.
Severus stared at her impassively.
“You have will, and some freedom of action.”
As you say.
Sisilia tossed her sword to Severus.
“Then end it yourself.”
...
“That's what I'd do. What a Windsor must do.”
Sisilia stated flatly.
“Prove your purity through suicide.”
I can't.
“Why?”
The one who must kill me is predetermined.
Sisilia's hair fluttered in the wind, black shifting back to silver, her eyes blazing with clear fury.
“For such a pathetic reason, you killed ninety-six people, Severus Windsor?”
No excuse, no will, would sway her.
“You have no right. I'll judge you.”
Severus gave a bitter smile at Sisilia's explosive silver rage. He had no rebuttal.
But he had no intention of dying here either.
The traitor's life—
Leo Ric had to claim it.
I told you.
Severus swung his sword at full force at the approaching Sisilia.
The one who must kill me is set.
And it wasn't her.
Severus fought not to die.
“Damn humans!”
Leo Ric's hunch had been spot on.
The moment Jack appeared, Beatrice's light spread wide across the sky.
Spotting it, Leo Ric released the extreme suppression on his mana and tracked down Gluttony.
“Why do you humans do such cruel things to us demons! This bastard, that bitch, all of them!”
Gluttony writhed in agony, battered to hell.
The price of taking Leo Ric's full-powered Extreme Art out of nowhere.
He was on the brink.
Leo Ric wasn't unscathed either. His shoulder was wrecked, nearly unusable, and his Windsor cape half-torn.
“Gluttony Viaton.”
Yet Leo Ric's light held no gray taint.
He aimed his spear unwaveringly and bellowed.
“Answer me!”
“What! What the hell did I do!”
“Where's Severus's soul? Your ace had to be him—”
Leo Ric's eyes were bloodshot, veins burst, like he wept bloody tears.
“Killing you in this state... I'd have no face to meet Severus in death!”
“Damn unlucky human! If I hadn't lost that soul, I wouldn't be cornered by weaklings like you.”
Gluttony Viaton rose after partial recovery, sneering mockingly.
“You just got lucky. Don't strut like it's your skill!”
“...Soul stolen?”
Leo Ric's eyes wavered.
“By whom?”
“Who else? Your damn Windsor Knights! That woman—what is she?”
Viaton paled, recalling someone with visible fear.
Leo Ric guessed instantly. The strongest woman he knew was Sisilia.
“...I see. You beat me to it, Sisilia.”
But his spear didn't dull. He'd gotten his answer. Regrettable, but in this state, Gluttony's best was this form.
“Extreme Art.”
Leo Ric crouched, breathing deeply. Red aura lined his silver spear like a thread.
“Y-you madman—using it again?”
He'd already taken one at the start. Less than thirty minutes ago.
No way he could fire another.
Meaning this human was staking his life to kill him.
“Why go that far? Why! What did I do!”
Leo Ric smirked.
“Think a mere demon could grasp a noble human's heart?”
As he began the cast—
Gluttony Viaton blurted desperately.
“Severus! Severus, right? Know why he's on a killing spree?”
Obvious stall. But Leo Ric played along.
Only by crushing every demonic tantrum could it be true victory.
To restore even a sliver of Severus's sullied honor.
But that choice became his worst mistake.
Unveiling a truth he could've overlooked.
“No, I never ordered that.”
Viaton grinned vilely.
Leo Ric instinctively knew it was truth.
“Purely his free will. Curious why?”
“...Why?”
“Because you didn't kill him.”
“...!”
Viaton's lips tore into a grotesque rictus.
“You figured killing a soulless husk meant nothing. Spot on. But...”
“Humans keep their memories intact even without souls. That black letter he sent you? Still there.”
Viaton found that Severus amusing. Soul stolen, nowhere to go, yet he lingered, undying, waiting eternally for his knight.
For ten years, believing one would come. Viaton mocked, tormented, savored him.
Delicious.
Eventually, he broke. Formed a new resolve.
Viaton, entertained, allowed it.
“Realizing no one would kill him, he decided to create a reason. Asked me.”
Gluttony mimicked Severus's voice.
“'What makes one the most evil?'”
Viaton still chuckled at the memory. Mad laughter as he told the shadow-craving Leo Ric.
“He didn't even know what evil acts were. So I taught him personally.”
Ringing filled Leo Ric's ears.
Yet the demon's laughter cut clear.
“Kill a hundred virgins and summon a devil.”