I Need to Cure This Rare Disease Where Necks Suddenly Snap;;

The sharp crack rang out as Thirin's fist slammed perfectly into the underside of Heres's jaw.

Thirin felt her own wrist shattering from the impact, but at the same time she heard the unmistakable sound of Heres's neck bones twisting and snapping. Heres never registered the shock. All he felt was the world suddenly winking out.

"...."

When Heres opened his eyes, he reflexively searched for that woman—the bitch who had been right in front of him moments ago, disgustingly beautiful and infuriating at the same time. But she was gone. Nowhere in sight.

Where did she go...?

Instead, only the blood-drained faces of his subordinates filled his vision. They stood frozen like they'd seen a ghost. What were those stupid expressions? Why were they staring at him like that?

These morons....

Heres grew irritated. You idiots, what the hell are you spacing out for? That beggar bitch ran away! Go find her!

Strange. He was certain he had spoken. Yet no voice came out. How odd. An inexplicable sense of wrongness and questions swirled through his mind, but everything was gradually fading. His subordinates' faces, the twilight sky, even his own thoughts—everything was being dyed black and drifting away.

"D-Deputy leader...?"

One of the mercenaries called out cautiously. They were seeing both Heres's face and his back at the same time, along with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the masked face of that insane beggar woman beyond his shoulder. Only then did the mercenaries realize what had happened. That single punch from the beggar bitch had twisted Heres's neck completely around.

The mercenaries cried out in horror.

"Heres!"

"Deputy leader!"

Thirin was dumbfounded. These idiots strutted around like hotshot mercenaries but didn't even understand the most basic common sense.

"You fucking brain-dead morons! Get a grip!"

At Thirin's piercing shout the mercenaries flinched. Their faces belonged to cowards who only knew how to bully children and old people. Thirin genuinely wanted to plant her fist in each of those stupid mugs once.

She was still pretty worked up from seeing blood. However...

"Huk...!"

The mercenaries' terrified faces filled her vision. Thirin took a deep breath. Sure, these bastards were trash who kicked old street vendors, but that wasn't a capital offense. It was different from Heres, the child-raping piece of shit who'd stabbed her without warning.

In that case, she ought to handle them differently. Yes, everyone carried the potential for change. Therefore, wasn't it the solemn duty of a civilized person stranded in this barbaric world to enlighten and educate these idiots?

Thirin decided to behave like a proper civilized person. She would exercise patience and kindly explain things to them.

"I'll teach you all one fundamental principle of the human body."

The mercenaries swallowed nervously. What nonsense was this crazy woman about to spout now?

"It is..."

"...?"

"Surprisingly, people die when their necks get twisted around!"

Thirin slapped the back of Heres's head as she shouted.

"Just because your neck is turned doesn't mean you can see the people behind you! People die when their necks snap! No matter how many times you call a dead man's name, he won't answer! You blockheaded idiots who don't even know this basic common sense!"

"......!"

Silence fell. A heavy stillness.

"...W-Witch...!"

Someone muttered.

"It's a witch! A witch!"

Another person screamed in a voice that sounded like it was being torn apart. That single word acted like a spell, snapping the last thread of their sanity.

"It's a witch!"

"R-Run!"

Reason shut down. Only the survival instinct remained. The mercenaries screamed and bolted back down the path they'd come, running like madmen.

Thirin watched the idiots' retreating backs for a moment, then clicked her tongue. The enlightenment project had failed. As expected, spreading the gifts of civilization to barbarians was no easy task.

"Ugh..."

Only then did the pain in her side surge back to life. Thirin grimaced and roughly shoved Heres's corpse, which had been leaning against her, aside. It hit the ground with a heavy thud.

"Hoo..."

Thirin gripped the hilt of the sword still buried in her body and yanked it out. The unpleasant sensation of cold steel prying through flesh was followed by a hot gush of blood. The metallic stench stung her nose.

Fucking son of a bitch... this hurts like hell...

"Baby... put some effort into it..."

Thirin really was like an old tube television. Even the part where getting hit changed the channel was identical.

She spoke again, enunciating each syllable.

"It. Fucking. Hurts. Like. Hell."

Irritated, Thirin hurled the blood-soaked sword away. Her brand-new clothes were now a complete bloody mess.

Frowning, she examined the wound. Thanks to the automatic recovery function, the injury was closing rapidly, but the pain remained.

"Damn bastard. You could've stabbed a little more gently."

Thirin looked down at Heres's still-warm corpse. The bizarre sight of him lying with the back of his head facing forward instead of his face actually pleased her.

"..."

She suddenly decided this look suited him much better. Without that ugly face in view, only the back of his head was actually pleasant to look at.

Tsk tsk. You should've gone around like this from the beginning. If you'd walked around showing only the back of your head, Merye might have served you with a little more patience...

Thirin thought while staring at the back of Heres's head. He was garbage, but he had still been a member of a mercenary company that hunted demonic beasts on the frontier. On top of that, he had given her the valuable insight known as Physical Realization.

She decided to show a bit of courtesy in her own way. Standing before the corpse, she awkwardly brought her palms together in a clumsy prayer gesture and muttered.

"Namu Amida Butsu.... What, your name was Heres? In your next life, I hope you're born with something longer attached. If possible, fix your personality too. And skip the whole paradise rebirth thing."

After delivering the half-hearted prayer for his soul, Thirin called up the system window. She needed to examine the messages that had flashed during the fight.

"Point, huh..."

Thirin slowly clenched and unclenched her right hand while staring at the final message. The pain still lingered, but her broken wrist could move somewhat now.

She closed her eyes and replayed the movement from moments ago in her mind. The technique gained through Physical Realization. The sensation her body remembered. Measuring distance with her left hand, drawing her right arm back to its limit to condense power, then twisting every muscle and joint in her body to fire that power toward a single point.

The Point. A movement that concentrated all force into one spot to pierce through like a needle. The result was not something that could be achieved with the destructive power of a simple punch.

Still, a sword that shoots down the sun? The name was ridiculously grandiose.

More than anything, the system's message bothered her.

Through Physical Realization, you have grasped the basics of a new martial art!

"Hmm..."

The system had specifically called ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it the basics. Did that mean she hadn't fully obtained this Sun-Shooting Sword technique yet? Was Point merely something like a foundational move?

Thirin's thoughts didn't continue for long.

"Unknown woman over there! Step back!"

An urgent shout came from the village, accompanied by the rapidly approaching light of several torches. When Thirin turned her head, she saw Martha running toward her with a deathly pale face, accompanied by a group of uniformed men. They were the Imperial Guard.

"Get back!"

Thirin recognized the man shouting. It was Roderick, commander of the imperial guard detachment.

So you've finally dragged yourself out here.

Public authority being slow was the same whether in the modern world or this one.

When Thirin silently stepped aside, one of the guards approached with a torch. The man looked at Heres and sucked in a sharp breath.

"H-He's dead...!"

Roderick ground his teeth. A village beggar woman standing beside a bloodied sword. The corpse of a mercenary company's deputy leader with his neck twisted around. The blood-soaked blade clearly belonged to Heres. The blood trail originated from the woman's abdomen.

Yet the one who had died was Heres. The situation looked obvious, yet it was horribly absurd. Had Heres stabbed the woman? And then the woman had killed Heres? Alone? How?

Countless questions flooded Roderick's mind, but securing the suspect came first.

"Don't move. I am placing you under arrest as a suspect in a murder case."

"Ahaha."

Thirin burst out laughing as if she'd heard the funniest joke in the world. Her eyes, illuminated by the torchlight, sparkled with mischief yet carried an icy chill.

"Captain. Aren't you being rather hasty? How can you already declare me the culprit and call me a suspect? Did you actually witness me killing him? The eyes of the Imperial Guard truly are sharp. If only your feet had been a little faster—ah, my apologies."

"...."

Roderick suffered two shocks in quick succession. The first was that the crazy beggar who could only spit curses was now speaking coherently. The second was that what she was saying carried real weight.

He understood her implication perfectly. If the guards had intervened sooner, no one's neck would have been snapped. Or rather, if the guards had done ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠their jobs properly from the start, the villagers would never have been threatened by rampaging mercenaries.

She wasn't just some crazy beggar after all. So she possessed some kind of curse, and it has now been resolved? Why would someone of that caliber be hiding in a backwater like this...?

Whether she knew what he was thinking or not, Thirin simply kept smiling brightly.

She continued speaking.

"Of course, it's unfortunate that this respected mercenary gentleman has passed away due to an unfortunate incident. However, isn't it a bit much to suddenly brand this poor beggar woman as a murderer? Does it make any logical sense that a powerless, penniless beggar could beat a strong mercenary to death with her bare hands?"

She lightly nudged Heres's corpse with her toe and continued.

"Who knows? Maybe this gentleman suddenly contracted a rare disease that causes one's neck to snap while walking down the road. The possibilities are endless, aren't they?"

"...."

Roderick glared at her. It was utter nonsense. But provoking a dangerous individual who might have killed a deputy mercenary leader with her bare hands wasn't wise either. Especially if she really was a big shot who ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠possessed curses.

Roderick compromised.

"...I will question you as a witness regarding the death. Please cooperate."

Thirin smiled sweetly at his words.