Dark... No, Unicorn Knight (1)

What the hell is this! Don't use that kind of skill on a sacred virgin!

I ignored the system window flickering in front of my eyes. My goal had only been to dig up Eric's dirty secrets and clean out the rat bastards selling off the territory's people—I had no intention whatsoever of seducing the innocent virgin I was supposed to protect.

Even if she comes running at me naked, begging me to fuck her, I won't lay a hand on her. ...Well, maybe not that far. Anyway.

I handed Selin a dagger to cut her ropes and hurried out of the warehouse.

Screeech—

The scene outside the iron door that my loyal hound Silver—Leona—had battered open looked no different from a slaughterhouse.

"Grgh...! Hah, huff...!" "Gaaahhh!" "Sniff, heh heh heh."

The ground was littered with the severed limbs and spilled guts of territory soldiers and slave traders. And atop that carnage, my hound was dancing a mad sword dance in the nude.

Every time my hound's brutal yet beautiful sword dance came to an end, two or three slave traders' heads would soar into the sky.

And I was walking right into the center of that hellscape.

Yet I wasn't shaken in the slightest. It was strange—I'd never witnessed such a gruesome sight in my life.

Maybe it was because I'd imagined similar scenes countless times while reading the original novel.

Or perhaps this body I'd possessed, belonging to Werner, the native of this dark fantasy world, was just used to it.

But I was certain it wasn't for those reasons. No, whatever the cause, it didn't matter.

My heart was pounding.

This should have been a horrific sight that would terrify any normal person into cowering, but ever since the moment I rescued that girl from the warehouse, the excitement hadn't subsided.

Even if I'd possessed this body, my essence hadn't changed.

Whether it was back then, when that dogshit author hit me with an extreme NTR drift and filled me with rage, or now—I was a unicorn.

Dead serious about protecting virgins and slaughtering ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠NTR bastards...

But the me of the past was a completely different being from the me now. Back then, I was powerless, forced to watch helplessly as the heroines I loved got stolen away. But now? Things were different.

Now, I had power. And with that power, I'd created this scene.

And I didn't regret it one bit.

If it's to save the virgins, I'll kill as many trash slave traders as it takes. However many it takes.

With my resolve hardened, I extended the sword still stained with the traces of my first kill to the side.

Clang!

I parried the mercenary's sword thrusting at my ribs, then immediately went on the offensive.

Swish!

The mercenary, who smirked thinking his ambush had succeeded, took a thin cut across his face and staggered back a step.

I was aiming to counter and kill him in one stroke, but I missed. My Agility stat is too low—that's why.

The mercenary's blood splattered onto my face, trickling down my cheek.

The stench of blood was overpowering, and my face was filthy—it should have disgusted me, but instead, a strange euphoria enveloped me.

Maybe it was because I'd possessed a third-rate villain from the original story. This body seemed to have an evil alignment.

But that didn't matter. A sword's value depends on what it cuts.

And all I cut were those who deserved to die.

As I advanced in the stance of Kraus Practical Swordsmanship, the mercenary's eyes shook violently. His stats were clearly far superior to mine, but to someone who'd never properly learned swordsmanship, there'd be no gap to exploit in my solid form.

I kept my sword low and slowly sidestepped. No rush. I recalled what Leona had drilled into me during training at the grounds.

—"Fights start from the toes, not the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠blade."

"...I thought you were just some psycho in a freak mask, but you're pretty good."

The mercenary muttered lowly. His eyes were cautious now, unlike before. He reset his stance, switching his dagger to a reverse grip.

First attack... my side.

I read his mind with Mind Reading and took my stance. I deliberately exposed my right side as bait.

The mercenary kicked off the ground. Faster than expected. Without predicting his path via mind reading, I wouldn't have reacted in time. He'd probably think it was some skill.

The dagger dove for my side. I'd anticipated it, but I was still half a beat late twisting away. The blade grazed my clothes.

The sound of tearing fabric. But only cloth, not flesh.

In that instant, my elbow was already smashing toward his jaw.

Thud!

The mercenary's head snapped back.

I hooked his ankle with my foot, toppling his balance.

As he stumbled to one knee, the heavy hilt of my sword crashed mercilessly into his forehead.

A sickening sensation like his skull caving in. His eyes rolled back white, and he crumpled to the ground.

The masterless dagger skittered across the cold stone, ringing clearly. He didn't even twitch as he breathed his last.

Damn... this Mind Reading is more useful in combat than I thought.

I caught my breath lightly and turned to check the other side.

"...!"

A short exclamation escaped me unbidden.

Blood was falling like rain.

More precisely, the rain my hound had made.

Leona's silver hair was dyed crimson, dripping droplets from the tips. At her feet lay seven—no, eight corpses. Some with necks half-severed, others with chests split wide open.

She stood in the midst of it, sword lowered. Not even breathing hard through her shoulders. Just quietly awaiting my next command.

Her eyes, gleaming through the blood, slowly lifted—and met mine.

The eyes of an adorably obedient pet dog, waiting for its master's next order.

If I hadn't properly trained her before making her do this... I'd have been fucked.

"Good—"

Before I could finish, a faint movement caught my eye at the edge of my vision. One of the corpses in the pile playing dead. Its finger twitched, scraping the dirt.

Convinced I hadn't seen, the bastard bolted up and sprinted toward the woods.

The same scum who'd mercilessly abused weaker slaves just moments ago was now pissing himself in terror. Honestly, it was kinda funny watching his back.

"Silver."

Just calling her name made her head snap toward me.

Chase him. I hadn't said it yet. But her legs were already half-turned toward the fleeing rat.

Yet she hesitated. Wondering if she could leave her master here alone. It bruised my pride a bit. The only one left was the armless Gareth—did she think I couldn't handle a single cripple?

Of course, honestly, Leona's judgment was spot on. I was a total loser who couldn't even beat Gareth after he'd gotten his arm sliced by her.

But she didn't know about my ability.

Mind Reading.

"Don't worry about me."

I pointed at the fleeing bastard's back with my fingertip.

"Chase him. Don't leave a single bone or scrap of flesh."

Even after I commanded her, Silver hesitated. Doubting her master's words? She still lacked awareness as a pet. She'd need more training later.

After a pause, I added firmly.

"It means swallow him whole, Silver."

"......Woof."

A gust of wind rose once.

The silver blur that flashed past me vanished into the darkness the next instant. Without a single footstep. As if a person had never stood there—just the wind.

The clearing fell silent.

Now, the only enemy left in this blood-soaked space was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Gareth, who'd just barely finished staunching the stump of his severed arm in front of me.

...Good. Stay calm. He's stronger than me now, but against the monsters in the original story, he's small fry. If I can't handle even this guy alone, there's no way I'd beat Lucian.

A bead of cold sweat trickled down my spine.

I brushed the blood from my hands, feigning nonchalance, but my heart was pounding wildly for an entirely different reason than before.

Gareth. Kent's loyal dog and a formal knight of the territory.

Even after getting shredded like a mutt by my hound and losing an arm, he was bleeding out—but unlike me, he was a knight who wielded aura.

My win in the duel earlier was only because he'd let his guard down completely.

With my shallow stats, even grazing his sword would shatter my bones and rupture my guts.

Stay calm. Panic here and you're dead. Gotta shatter his mental first, no matter what.

I steadied my breath behind the mask and slowly turned toward Gareth, hands clasped behind my back.

"Wh-who the hell are you...! Do you even know who I am, pulling this shit?!"

Blood-soaked and crawling on the ground, Gareth bellowed in rage. Even as blood poured from his severed wrist, he glared and threatened me, veins bulging.

The territory folk, who had cautiously followed the rescued slave girl out of their cages, yelped in fear and fled back inside.

"Do you know who's behind me, behind this caravan?! It's Lord Eric, the real power in the territory, and Lady Ophilia! Drop your weapon and kneel at my feet right now, and I might spare your—!"

Hah, still spewing threats even with his arm hacked off. What a tenacious prick.

I clicked my tongue inwardly and scanned the surroundings. The escaped rat was being chased by Silver, and in this blood-puddled clearing, only Gareth remained before me.

Doesn't matter if I reveal myself now. No—in fact, showing my face here will shatter his mind even more completely.

Decision made, I ignored his pathetic threats, slowly raising one hand. Then I casually swiped off the ridiculous mask half-covering my face and tossed it aside.

Thud.

As the mask hit the ground, the moonlight broke through the clouds, starkly illuminating my golden hair and the chiseled Kraus family features.

"...Well? Did Eric tell you to cut my head off too?"

An arrogant, venomously haughty voice.

The moment he recognized that familiar tone and face, Gareth's eyes bulged like they might pop out.

"Y-young Master Werner...?!"

Gareth's jaw trembled convulsively.

The disgrace of the swordmaster house Kraus—born a man of the family yet unable to wield aura properly. The worthless trash he'd mocked and sneered at inwardly countless times had utterly crushed his plans and now loomed over him arrogantly. Unable to accept it, Gareth's brain short-circuited, his tongue twisting.

"Y-you pathetic loser piece of shit, why, why are you here...! This makes no sense, how could trash like you...!"

"'Cause you're a moron and got caught."

Gareth ground his teeth, gripping his sword tight with his remaining hand at my languid drawl.

"You... fucking loser shit... How dare you."

As his muddled eyes flashed toward me, the Mind Reading skill lit up his brain.

I let out a snort.

"'Slice my throat in one cut...'"

"...?!"

"Is that what you're thinking, Gareth? Do I look like I'm here alone? Use that empty head of yours. My sister, who's been missing since a few days ago and hasn't returned to the lord's chambers. The Swordmaster. ...Where do ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you think she is right now?"

Where Isabella was? I had no idea.

But as his innermost thoughts spilled verbatim from my mouth, Gareth's shoulders stiffened.

I didn't miss the opening, digging straight into his deepest, pettiest insecurities.

"Licking the mud off Eric's shoes like a dog just to scavenge his table scraps. Still got some pride left as a 'knight,' huh?"

"H-how do you know about that?!"

Reading even the thoughts flashing through his mind in real time, I smirked viciously, tightening the noose.

"Why? Dying to know how I know?"

"You... demonic bastard..."

"Eric told me himself. Said it's time to clean you up."

"N-no way. He wouldn't abandon me..."

"Obviously. You're a pathetic knight who can't even look Vice-Captain Leona in the eye, let alone match her. And yet you dreamed of having her? By selling your loyalty to Eric? Pathetic."

"......"

I kicked Gareth's severed right hand on the ground with my boot, mocking him.

"Look at this. You're done as both a knight and a man."

"SHUT THE FUCK UUUUP!!"