Guardian: Derek Walker 21
Bianca's sharp scream echoed through the restaurant, filled with madness and glee. Though laced with fury, her voice was so beautiful it sounded like an actress on stage performing a tragic cry. The soldiers, who had been laughing heartily and enjoying the spectacle, turned their gazes back to the source of the voice.
"Who the hell are you!? Which bitch dares sneak into our feast!?"
The first to react was Langen, Phalax's right-hand man. Quick on the uptake, he instantly judged how to turn this situation to his advantage. He charged toward Bianca like an enraged bull in a single bound.
Rita let out a scream as sharp as shattering glass, but it wasn't enough to halt Langen's movements, driven by overwhelming lust.
"This is a civilian-controlled zone! You sneaky little rat hiding in here! Are you a spy for the orcs!?"
"I-I'm Rita's little sister! Let go of me!"
Bianca struggled, shaking the arm Langen had grabbed. No matter how tough her body was from grueling rural labor, shaking off a mana-wielding knight like Langen was impossible.
Rita's piercing screams grew louder, but Phalax, who held her in his arms, ignored them completely as he toyed with her body.
"Captain! Can I teach this insolent bitch a lesson!?"
"Eek! Let go! I said let go!"
"Bianca!"
The restaurant had descended into total chaos. Food from the long table was already spilled everywhere, and the soldiers, their reason drowned in strong liquor, clapped and cheered at the tragedy unfolding before them. The sisters' cries, like desperate wails, adorned this chaotic stage.
"Fine. She's yours. I've got to educate this one's lower half. Heh heh! You said you have a fiancé? I'll give you a proper first-night lesson myself!"
"N-No! Stop!"
Even if Rita had resolved herself to offer her body to Phalax, she never imagined it would happen like this—in front of all these soldiers.
Rita realized this man saw her as nothing more than a plaything. The thought of her chastity, preserved for nearly twenty years, being defiled by such a filthy man filled her with rage.
Drobin! Drobin!
"Kee-hee-hee! This is what a real cock looks like!"
Phalax vulgarly shook his dangling dick against Rita's thigh. His brutish hand gripped her breast, and he thrust his lust-filled face toward her.
"Sis!"
"Hee-hee! Worry about yourself! I love teaching cheeky bitches like you."
Langen pinned Bianca down from above. Then he tore her skirt apart with both hands.
Bianca's white panties ripped along with the skirt. She kicked her legs in resistance, but Langen pressed her thighs down with his body, rendering it useless. He clamped her neck with one hand.
"Guhk!"
With her oxygen cut off, Bianca's face turned as pale as a sheet. Terror of suffocation drained the strength from her body. As her sharp, feral cat-like attitude dulled somewhat, Langen forcibly spread her thighs.
"You haven't been fucked by someone already, have you? If you've been whoring around like a stray cat... I'll rip that pussy open."
"Hngh!"
Bianca met the eyes of Langen leering down at her tear-streaked face. To her, he was no different from the orcs invading the village. No, his face seemed even more repulsive.
"Ooh! A clean pussy. Virgin-tight! I'll feast well today! Your virginity is mine..."
Pfsh!
Langen couldn't finish his sentence. A burning pain shot through his right shoulder. At the same time, a hot liquid splashed his cheek.
It didn't take long to realize the slightly sticky red liquid gushing from his shoulder was blood. When Langen turned to look at his right shoulder, he saw the arm that should have been there lying on the floor.
The cut between shoulder and arm was as clean as meat hanging in a butcher shop. Suddenly, his mind went hazy.
"Wh-what..."
Pshooo!
Blood sprayed out like a fountain in the plaza, dramatically scattering everywhere. The fishy metallic scent quickly filled the restaurant, heavy with the stench of strong alcohol.
All eyes turned to Langen. Even Phalax, who had been toying with Rita, lifted his head at the battlefield-like reek.
"Langen!? It's an enemy attack!"
Startled, Phalax shoved Rita aside and grabbed the sword lying beside his chair. He drew it from its beautifully crafted scabbard, biting his lip as he scanned the surroundings.
"Who are you!? Orcs!?"
He knew no lowly orc race would launch a surprise attack, but with no other expected enemies, Phalax shouted it anyway. However, the figure who entered his sight was no orc.
Calling her an orc would insult any human, but labeling this woman one would be a crime against heaven and earth.
Her silvery hair, cascading to her waist, swayed slowly like the beautiful chandeliers adorning the Lord's Castle, and her blue eyes, emitting a soft glow like moonlight, gazed at him with bored indifference.
The mysterious woman, holding elegantly curved scimitars in both hands, approached him with graceful steps. Those delicate footfalls evoked an image of a dancer trained for years, but as a knight, Phalax recognized them as the pinnacle of refined martial arts.
Phalax gripped his sword tighter. He unsheathed it. The sharp longsword, just under 150cm, revealed its steadfast menace.
It was a 10-gold masterwork sword bestowed personally by Count Tarsion. Phalax had never seen a finer blade, but the scimitars in the silver-haired beauty's hands made his own look shabby.
"Who are you!? State your identity! I am Phalax, second-in-command of the Tarsion territory forces executing Baron Tarsion's orders! Attacking me is tantamount to attacking Tarsion territory it—"
Slash!
"Gaaahk!"
A cross-shaped gash appeared on the chest of the knight trembling beside Phalax. It was a sword strike beyond Phalax's dynamic vision.
There were over ten footsteps' distance between the struck knight and the beauty, yet she had ignored that gap to attack. It was a mana-infused strike.
To wield mana at that level! At least mid Sword Expert... no, higher!?
Either way, it was an expert Phalax couldn't withstand ten exchanges against. No knight in Tarsion territory could block that sword. Realizing this, Phalax's muscles instinctively tensed.
"Walker-sama's maid. Luna."
"Lady Luna!"
Rita, thrown aside by Phalax, rubbed her bruised arm and called out to Luna.
Luna met Rita's gaze with an expressionless face. Her appearance now differed slightly from usual. Her brown hair shimmered silver, and her brown eyes gleamed blue.
The auspicious moonlight filtering through the windows awakened the power of the moon clan within her.
"Walker-sama sent me. To protect you, Lady Rita."
"Walker-sama..."
Luna's gaze shifted to Bianca on the floor. She extended a hand to help her up. Bianca's face flushed red.
"Th-thank you!"
"Stay behind me."
"Y-Yes!"
Bianca scurried behind Luna like a squirrel finding its mother. She beckoned to Rita.
"Sis, hurry over here!"
"O-Okay!"
Rita also took shelter behind Luna. Her flushed face mirrored her sister's perfectly.
"Y-You bitch! You think you can touch Tarsion's territory forces carrying out the baron's orders and get away with it!?"
Phalax shoved the deep-seated fear in his chest to a corner of his mind and desperately opened his mouth.
Every time he met Luna's blue eyes, an instinct to flee screamed in his head, but thoughts of his captain's dignity barely suppressed the terror.
"And if I do? What will you do about it?"
Luna countered in a voice devoid of emotion.
"Th-the baron won't let you off! And that master of yours, Walker! A mere merchant daring to rampage without knowing the height of the heavens—"
Slash!
Luna's sword sliced the air. This time, her target was a soldier edging backward. His left ankle was cleanly severed.
"I wonder who truly rampages without knowing the height of the heavens."
Not a drop of blood stained Luna's blade. She slowly advanced toward Phalax.
Run... I have to run...!
He knew he had to flee, but his body wouldn't move. It felt like prey frozen stiff before a predator sensing death. In truth, Phalax's situation was no different.
The gap between them, once ten steps, narrowed further. Nine steps, eight, seven, six.
Step. Step. Step.
It was as if the Grim Reaper approached with a massive scythe. Just as humans couldn't escape the wheel of fate called death, Phalax felt he could never flee the reaper's grasp before him.
Thud.
With exactly one step remaining, Luna stopped. Phalax, rigid as a statue, met her eyes with a stiff face.
She was a head shorter than him. Yet even looking down at her, he felt as if he were gazing up at the unreachable peak of a towering spire.
Luna reached out and lightly tapped the sword in Phalax's hand. At that small gesture, Phalax dropped his weapon. On a battlefield, his head would already be rolling.
"My heaven is Walker-sama."
Luna said this, staring straight into Phalax's eyes. He nodded blankly, dazed.
"Do not rampage without knowing the height of heaven. Remember today's lesson."
With that, Luna turned away. No attack followed. Phalax collapsed on the spot. Urine trickled down his legs.
"Lady Luna!"
Rita and Bianca approached Luna. She turned to them and said,
"Let's go home."
"Yes!"
"Lady Luna, you're the best! So cool and beautiful, like a goddess!"
Bianca clung to Luna's arm, acting cute.
Until the three women exited the temporary barracks, none of the territory soldiers—including Phalax—could rise from their seats. It felt as if a massive storm had swept through.
They didn't realize it yet. They were already living on borrowed time, spared by Walker only for a more miserable death.