The Madwoman
Abigail dragged Laslo into his study, her steps unhurried as if she owned the place.
When she activated the hidden mechanism hidden in the bookshelf without a second of hesitation, Laslo let out a sound halfway between a wheeze and a laugh.
“You’ve been busy digging. Where’d you get it from?”
“From heaven.”
“Croak croak, the lady’s got some romantic streak. Not hell, heaven? Some angel sent you here to kill me? Ack!”
Abigail drove the dagger straight into his shoulder with a casual flick, twisting it slowly while her voice stayed light.
“Linda sent me, you fucking bastard.”
“Grrrugh… L-Linda? Who the hell is Linda?”
“You guys always talk the same bullshit.”
“Grrrrraaaah!”
She slammed the hilt down with her fist, burying the dagger deep into his shoulder, then yanked him forward through the secret passage.
Even inside the organization, only Laslo and Karta had known about this route, but Abigail walked it like it was her own backyard.
“Guh… hah… hah… How the hell did you even know about the secret passage? I had every grunt killed.”
Between ragged breaths, Laslo refused to shut up.
Every time he opened his mouth, Abigail would kick the dagger again, cutting him off mid-scream—until the pain eased and he started yapping again.
“Linda, Linda, Linda. My memory’s a steel trap; I remember every single bastard who ever crossed me. But I don’t remember you at all. Wrong guy, right?”
His shoulder hung limp, soaked in blood, and she dragged him like a sack of meat.
Yet Laslo still sounded relaxed.
Abigail had heard that line before—someone trying to mock her with words while a dagger punched holes in their body. First time it was Laslo.
Suddenly her thoughts drifted to Rai’s face. She scowled, kicked the rock slab blocking the exit.
“You’re late, huh.”
The slab slid aside with a grinding scrape. Outside, Karta was already waiting, smiling when he saw her.
“Couldn’t even bag one guy… useless bitches.”
“Hahaha, with this few people are we really supposed to take down the whole organization? Is our boss still alive?”
“…”
In the secret passage Laslo had been the biggest blabbermouth, yet now he was silent.
He stared at Karta with narrowed eyes, then gave a tired chuckle and shook his head.
“So the boss finally showed his tail, Karta.”
“Smart as ever. Now the organization’s mine to run. Die in peace.”
Karta’s smile was oily and full of teeth. Laslo’s brow furrowed.
“You’re insane.”
“…”
Their eyes met.
“What? You two are having a lovers’ quarrel. You’re both getting killed by my hand today.”
“Easy now, missy. Chill.”
Even as Abigail’s killing intent flared like a living thing, Karta held up both hands and spoke gently.
Karta stood from the small rock, his presence swelling like a rising tide.
The aura rolling off him was so massive and sharp it made Abigail tilt her head sideways to look at him.
“We want the same thing, you and I. Laslo’s death.”
“…”
“Our boss piled up too many sins. One of those victims, right? So you kill him and get out of Beluken fast. No one else gets hurt. Nice deal, yeah?”
His smile never reached his eyes, but the pressure he exuded felt like a threat wrapped in silk.
Abigail scanned both of them once, then ripped the dagger out of Laslo’s wrist and drove it straight into his forearm.
Watching him thrash, Karta twisted his head with a smirk.
“Torture isn’t my thing, but there’s plenty of it saved up. Go ahead. But time’s short.”
“You’re full of shit.”
Abigail sliced Laslo’s tendons with surgical precision, then hurled the dagger aside and stood.
“You thought I’d be weak if I showed a little mana? Go fuck yourself, idiot.”
“Ugh… this is annoying.”
“I’ll make you look like this too.”
Abigail’s grin split her face like a wound. She drew her sword and charged.
Karta exhaled, drew his blade slowly, and met her strike without breaking stride.
“Wahahaha! Fight! The winner gets my head!”
Smeared with blood, Laslo laughed like a madman, watching the two of them circle each other.
The clashing blades rang out—Abigail’s fast, brutal style versus Karta’s calm, elegant counter.
Karta parried every strike with the same ruthless grace, then swept her ankle and sent her crashing.
Even as she rolled, she swung the sword and forced him back.
“How old are you this year?”
Karta’s eyes were cold as he asked, but Abigail answered with another swing.
The dance continued. Karta read her every move, then exploded forward the moment their swords locked.
He leaned into the blade, tilted back as she fell, kicked her stomach, and rolled away in one fluid motion.
He poked the fresh gash on his own belly with a finger, laughing.
“You’re not even twenty yet… talent’s blinding. Real combat experience, perfect teacher—balance is perfect.”
He spun his sword, wiping blood off his palm, then glanced between the two.
“If I keep going like this I’ll have to kill you, but your talent’s a waste. I know your skill level, so let’s call it a draw, yeah?”
Abigail laughed lightly.
“Nice read. So die.”
“Always the personality issues with talented kids.”
Karta clicked his tongue in disgust, then attacked.
His strikes were fast but heavy, like striking an anvil. Every block made Abigail’s wrist burn.
She retreated step by step while he threw in occasional punches.
“Ptooey.”
Abigail let her blade slip, lunged forward, and spat blood straight into Karta’s eyes.
He twisted at the last second, but her knee slammed into his face with a wet crunch.
Karta stepped back, parried wildly, then looked at her standing calmly in the same spot.
“Look at you. No real threat at all. Stop putting on airs.”
Abigail grinned brightly, eyes sparkling with madness.
Karta’s face twisted. He lowered his sword point to the ground.
He didn’t look like he wanted to fight anymore.
Abigail noticed the change in atmosphere but caught nothing concrete.
“I’m not as nice as you. Even if you surrender, I won’t spare you.”
Karta stared at her smug smile, then shook his head.
“The time for surrender was already over.”
“…”
“You know what? Anyone who escapes through this passage will eventually follow the same path.”
Abigail tried to move the moment she understood, but Karta was faster.
A magic circle bloomed where she stood. A black shackle shot out and clamped around her left ankle.
She shattered one side instantly, but the other side snapped shut, locking her in place.
“Hunters always think they’ll never be the prey. Simple trap. What are you going to do now?”
Abigail rattled the chain, but it didn’t break. The magical links felt welded to the ground.
She reached for the circle to read it.
“Fierce determination deserves praise. But don’t forget about me.”
Karta charged in before she could finish.
While he was swinging his sword down, he felt something wrong.
No matter how hard he pushed, her speed stayed sluggish. She was still hunched over, trying to decode the circle.
A flicker of doubt crossed his mind—then Abigail exploded upward.
Karta laughed at the ambush, stepped back a pace, but her attack range was wider than he expected.
Her blade carved a deep gash across his chest.
It wasn’t fatal, but leaving it would be stupid. He ignored his own wound and glared at her.
“Ruthless bitch…”
Abigail staggered for balance, then fell. Her leg had no ankle—only the severed foot still chained to the shackle.
She stood, clutching her ruined leg, and laughed through the pain.
“Too bad. Should’ve gone deeper.”
Even a killing blow required her to cut her own ankle.
The cold smile on her face sent chills down Karta’s spine.
“Did I… feel fear?”
He denied it violently in his head, but Abigail had already read him like an open book.
“The Era of Strife was boring. You’re a coward.”
“…”
“If the ambush didn’t work, I can do nothing. Don’t expect mercy.”
His voice was ice, but Abigail didn’t care. She balanced on her good leg, turned the blade into a cane, and snatched the severed foot.
She jammed her fingers into her own ankle, twisted until the bones snapped, and hurled the whole thing away.
“Who said I can’t do anything? Your fear?”
Holy power burst from her body, flooding the wound. Karta’s eyes widened.
“Power… you used mana…”
“Never saw anything like this in the old days? Well, some people knew.”
The wound sealed. The foot twitched and reattached.
Karta sprinted forward.
‘Finish her before she heals!’
His sword rose high, then slammed down with everything he had.
Abigail’s eyes glowed. She twisted at the last second and let the blade slide off her own.
The expression on her face didn’t match the words.
She swung upward like a hook, caught Karta’s sword mid-swing, and pulled it into a perfect circle that slammed down to the ground without resistance.
Karta’s spine prickled.
“Praise the Lord—He’s waiting for you in heaven.”
Mad laughter rang out as Abigail moved.
Her attacks had changed completely. Karta parried desperately, but her blade still grazed his shoulder and thigh.
“Die! Die! Don’t make the busy god wait! Get your fat ass moving and die already!!”
“You crazy bitch!!”
“More! More! More! Scream! Scream until the prayer reaches God!! AHAHAHA!!”
Lasro, dizzy from blood loss, heard the screams and cackled.
“I thought I was the crazy one… turns out there’s another level.”
From the side it looked insane, but to Karta it was terrifying.
His elegant swordsmanship was already difficult; now the power behind it made blocking impossible.
The madness wasn’t predictable, and every time he landed a hit she healed instantly and kept coming.
He praised God with his mouth while acting like a dark, evil undead.
Abigail kept attacking without pause. Karta’s sword shook.
“Guh!”
She slipped between his swings, slammed their blades together, and drove him back.
She pinned him by pressing her shoulder against the locked swords, then leaned in with a sickening smile.
“Grrraaaaah!”
Abigail dug into the chest wound she’d made earlier, yanked, and Karta howled in agony.
But she didn’t let go. She tore deeper, relentless.
The screams grew quieter until they stopped.
Abigail stood over the broken body. Lasro looked up at her face and laughed.
“Even God’s servants are learning torture now? I made a pool of my own blood just from this.”
She knelt and prayed.
“God, today you sent another little dog. Rip him apart as much as you want.”
“You crazy bitch, that’s not a prayer.”
“You don’t have much time left. I’ll end it quick.”
Abigail stuffed a red mana stone into Lasro’s mouth.
He thrashed, shaking his head, but the stones slid down his throat one by one until his mouth was full.
She stood, turned, and walked away.
Behind her, Lasro screamed, but she ignored it. She drank the neutralizing elixir, walked forward, and kept going.
His frantic shouting turned into muffled explosions, and the debris rained down around her as she headed for her next target.
But her footsteps didn’t last long.
“You finally caught up.”
A cheerful, green-haired girl smiled brightly at her.
Abigail’s face twisted in disgust.
She still had a way to go before reaching her next target.