The Terrifying Heroine (2)
She must have grown too careless amid her obsession with vengeance. To think she'd be caught so easily by some random bastard. Another sign of her inexperience.
"I've been calling you since earlier. You ignoring me or what?"
......
Who the hell is this guy?
Emilia had been frequenting this Adventurer Guild for years now. She remembered most regulars on sight. But the man gripping her arm was a complete stranger. Or maybe they'd crossed paths once or twice, but he sure as hell hadn't left any impression.
Missing teeth in that ugly mug of his. Ragged clothes that wouldn't stand out among the dregs here, a face like a thug. His cheeks flushed red—he looked drunk in broad daylight.
"Heh heh, look at this. See? Told ya. This arm's all slim and soft... gotta be a chick!"
The sleazy bastard chuckled merrily, turning back to his tablemates. A pack of similar lowlifes snickered along from there. Fresh off some quest, maybe? Or just killing time with no gigs, picking her as their booze-fueled entertainment.
"Hee hee, that ratty poncho hid it good at first glance... but khee hee, I spotted this pretty hand by chance... knew you were a girl!"
"......Let go."
"Whoa, she talks? ...It's a girl! Ah ha, ahahahahaha!!"
The creep groped her arm like it was his toy, then threw his head back in laughter without bothering to cover those gapped teeth. What was so damn funny? What got him so amused?
No one's picked a fight in years, so her reflexes had dulled for a split second. But that pathetic mug, that sniveling look—it was just like the losers she'd smacked down before.
His buddies at the table hooted and hollered too. The rest of the guild had gone dead silent, like someone dumped ice water on the place. The drunks didn't notice.
The man yanked her arm up, shoving back the sleeve of her poncho hood. Her pale, slender wrist gleamed exposed.
"Kyaa... look at this smooth, silky hand... no muscle on that skinny arm... you some noble lady slumming it?"
"Ah ha, hanging here? Prolly just a whore... Terry's side piece? Khee hee, that Platinum rank bought with her holes, huh...?"
"Whaddya say, missy? Take my cock today? Bigger than Terry's, promise."
He guffawed, reaching to pull her into his arms. The baggy hood hid most of her, but he aimed straight for the cleavage peeking through.
Fine then.
So, what now...?
* * *
Crack.
Her snow-white hand, caught in his grip, reversed it—now clamping his wrist instead. Somehow, his body lurched half-off balance, staggering awkwardly.
"Wha...?"
The sleaze froze in a bizarre sensation. Just for an instant, a split second.
His wrist seized, that slim arm twining lightly around his—yet it felt like his whole body was pinned immobile.
What principle? What trick? What technique? He couldn't even comprehend.
His booze-addled brain, crisis sense shot, registered only something hurtling toward him fast.
Whoosh.
Her other hand arced wide. Body locked, he had no chance to dodge—or even realize he should.
Her joint lock left his face perfectly exposed. Her palm smashed home.
SMACK!
"?!"
The impact roared unnaturally loud for a slap. His head snapped back.
...But her grip on his wrist never loosened.
"......Guh... geh... wha?!"
He felt his body lift, weightless. It really did.
Impossible posture or not, Emilia hoisted the man one-handed—like swinging a ragdoll.
Up high, overhead.
WHOOSH—
"Guh... ah?!"
His body sailed in an arc, then cratered into the floor harder, faster than she'd lifted.
Bigger, bulkier, heavier than her—and slamming down with earth-shaking force...!
BOOM!!!
CRASH!!
"GYAAAAAHHH...!!!"
Tables and chairs toppled in chaos as he hit. Breath stolen, impacts throbbing like broken bones. Lungs crushed, agony screaming—something had to be snapped or ruptured. He was dying.
But her punishment wasn't done. Still latched to his wrist, she heaved him up again.
WHOOSH, BOOM!!! WHOOSH, CRASHCRASHCRASH!!! WHOOSH, BOOM!!!
CRACK...!!
WHOOSH, KABOOM!!!
THUD THUD BOOM THUD THUD THUD BOOM!! CRACK GRIND BOOM CRUNCH CRACKLE BOOM BOOM BOOM THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD!!!
PUMMEL SMACK PUMMEL CRACK PUMMEL BOOM GRIND CRUNCH CRASHCLANG FLAP WHOOSH BOOM BOOMMMM!!!
THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUD—!!!!
"――――...!"
When had coherent screams failed him? Flung like trash, smashing tables, chairs, decor to splinters—Emilia's emotionless thrashing pulverized him toward dust.
I'm dying. Dying. DYING. It hurts hurts hurts hurts HURTSHURTSHURTSHURTSHURTSHURTSHURTSHURTSHURTSHURTSHURTSHURTSHURTSHURTSHURTSHURTSHURTSHURTSHURTSHURTS!!!
* * *
WHOOSH—BOOMMMM!
"……………!!"
Finally dumped at her feet, the man was a twisted, bloodied wreck—barely human. Just gurgles from his throat. No more screams, just ragged ruin.
Yet that wrist stayed gripped in her pretty, delicate hand. Twisted near-breaking countless times, but his filthy palm unscathed. Eerily so.
Through the onslaught, she'd never let go once. Just swung him like a sandbag from that pivot.
Overwhelming strength from those slim arms under the hood—defying all reason, hurling him helpless.
The lobby held its breath at the carnage.
Even his mocking crew fell silent.
"......Been a while since anyone tried teasing me like that."
"Hey, mister. Teasing girls ain't cool. ...My dad always said guys who look down on women never make it big."
"And who knows? The world might be full of women way, waaay stronger than you."
Emilia smiled under her mask, then stomped his head—mashing it into the floorboards.
CRUNCH! Wood splintered; his skull cratered down.
* * *
"......"
She'd punished the fool who'd underestimated her. But she wasn't stopping there.
Years as an adventurer here taught her: mercy meant nothing to these men. They lacked the brains to learn from a light touch. Beasts, all of them.
So go hard. Overkill. That was right.
And one more lesson learned:
――People don't break easy.
"Hii, hiiiieeeeek?!"
"Hyaak! Mercy, mercy...!!"
"Sorry! So sorry... my bad...!"
Her masked gaze under the hood turned to his cowering crew at their table. Frozen by the violence, they now trembled, scattering like spiders at her stare.
One bolted for the window, another the door, some groveled for pity.
But none would be spared.