Karma of Obsession (4)
The territory of the Dark Sanctuary was vast. It had been a hub for Red Players, filled with skilled fighters. But with the guild members who managed that sprawling land gone, lost wanderers had naturally settled into the empty villages. Races despised by humans—like half-demons or dwarves treated like slaves, for the most part. Yet that drew predators who targeted these fugitives. Just as adventurers passing a goblin nest would wipe them out on reflex, the Empire's knights—already ruthless discriminators against non-humans—massacred the villagers, original mission or not.
A sleepy rural village turned to scorched ruins in moments, thick with the stench of blood. Amid the flames, a young girl could only sob and cry out for her parents.
"Mommy!! Mommy!"
"Lamiel, it's okay. Stay quiet. Your horn hasn't grown in yet, so the bad people won't just kill you outright. Hide in this wardrobe and don't make a sound, alright?"
Even as blood dripped plink, plink from her forehead, her always gentle, warm-voiced mother shoved her inside with uncharacteristically grave words.
She couldn't comprehend it. All because a single horn sprouted from a body that looked human. Because they wielded magic more easily. Because their skin was blue, or some revolting hue. Because they were ugly, or just unpleasant to behold. Someone living quietly gets slaughtered. All because they might be a threat someday.
A knight clad head to toe in iron armor slices the throat of an ordinary mother from a simple home.
No more hugs from her mother. No more meals. No more bedtime lullabies. Not even casual morning greetings.
"..."
But the real cruelty—she knew it on instinct. If she screamed and ran to her mother now, she'd end up the same.
Her mother had only said it to protect her. She knew they had no real intention of killing her; otherwise, why hide her at all?
It was brutal. Right before her eyes, the mother who'd taken her in was murdered, and all she could do was bite her lips bloody and weep tears of blood inside that wardrobe. Nothing else.
Even when her mother's severed head rolled with a thud against the wardrobe door.
She clamped her mouth shut tight. That was it. All she could manage.
But then, trampling her desperate efforts—
Creak.
The wardrobe door swung open. Light flooded in.
"This bitch hid her little spawn, huh?"
The knight, clutching her mother's head—eyes glazed in vacant cruelty—leered down at the petrified girl, too terrified to even scream, a vile grin twisting his face.
What halted the knight, brimming with intent to pulverize her limbs with his iron mace, was none other than—
"That girl's human. No need to kill her, right?"
"...Who the hell are you?"
A figure in striking black garb, dominated by a bizarre mask.
"You said that young girl's human. Got a problem?"
"...What kinda lunatic shows up here."
The knight glanced back, brutally shook off the hand on his shoulder, hawked up phlegm with a hack-ptui, and fixed the masked man with a glare.
"You one of theirs too? Empire law says aiding these vermin gets you killed. You know that, right?"
The masked man eyed the spit on his black clothes for a beat, then met the knight's gaze head-on.
"I just stated the facts."
"That human? Horn sprouting from her head—you blind?"
"...That the law here?"
"What bullshit?"
"I'm asking if your laws let you wipe out a whole family and call it justice."
"Kuh, kukuk-hahahaha! What a riot you are. We personally off the trash that'd only prey on humans, and instead of thanks, you whine like this—that's why folks lose it. Try spewing that crap in front of the families of humans eaten alive or raped to death by monsters. See 'em nod along."
"..."
Judging by his getup, the masked man didn't radiate any real threat. Just some nutjob in a mask covered in freaky runes.
Here, the knight decided to probe him.
"Retract that now, and I'll spare your neck. You look human enough. But to take responsibility for your words, you kill the girl. Then maybe."
The masked man hesitated a moment. The knight flashed a smug, triumphant grin—like he'd nailed his weakness.
He promptly kicked the dead woman's corpse toward the man. Thud. Grotesque—black blood oozing with pink entrails from the rent wound.
Any civilian would've fainted dead away.
The knight just smirked, alternating glances between the girl trembling in shock at her mother's mangled remains and the conflicted man outside.
"C'mon, smash that monster bitch's skull with the broken bottle in her hand. Ten seconds. 10, 9—"
Vile eyes on the masked man, fixated on the shards. Do it. Kill her. Even if you do, you're dead meat—but chalk it up to accident. Suspicious outfit? No one cares. Torturing prisoners was getting stale anyway; this rare sport was a treat.
The knight trusted his skills. Even a shard ambush? His iron armor wouldn't even scratch.
Not that he'd drop his guard entirely. Folks sheltering monsters or decked in black like that? Sane ones were unicorns.
But handing a weapon to some mana-less weakling? No elite knight dies to that.
Plus, with backup knights outside, survival meant obeying.
"..."
As predicted, the masked man snatched the shard and advanced, just as ordered.
So the knight savored the vision: the man brutally stabbing the girl who'd dared hope for a second, then wailing about broken promises right before his own slaughter. He sneered—
Shwick.
A crisp slicing sound rang in his ears.
Precisely—above the knight's crown. Neatly bisecting his iron helm.
"...!"
The knight couldn't process it yet. He'd never let his guard down.
Missing the guy's move anyway meant—if that strike had hit vital...
No need to imagine worse.
Shocked, he swung his mace wildly, but the masked man caught it effortlessly.
"...Stars weren't adding up, threw me off. You're like 5-star at best."
"What...?"
"Was worried players might be total dogshit. But hey, at least 5-star hero level. Lucky."
"..."
"Planned to bolt if you were way stronger than me? No need now."
"...?"
The dumbfounded knight just gawked, not even grasping the words.
"So."
The masked man raised a hand.
Clang! "Time to die, third-rate extra piece of shit. My guild, the Dark Sanctuary, hates pureblood humans."
He caved the knight's skull with the mace, same as done to him.
Impulsive move. From Ian's standpoint, killing a human gave him pause—but once done, it felt... nothing.
Gory scenes? He'd toughened up on those from gallery browsing.
'These clowns are the elites?'
Felt like sub-1-star scrubs.
Of course, Ian hadn't charged in thoughtlessly. Game world or not, 500 foes? No way he'd play hero bare-assed.
All guildmates' top cash gear dangling off him, stealth accessories masking presence and mana, full dope stack—and the enemies? Laughable.
A mace bigger than his head smacked him dead-on? Felt like a fly landing on his hand. Ticklish, really.
That from an "elite" knight.
This guy just weak? Tested a squad of others—
"M-Monster!!!"
"Ge-General!! M-My Fireball won't work!"
"High Lightning!!!—H-Huh?! Still fine...?!"
Lowbie spells any novice jobber could spam.
'Mages, my ass. Any warrior build could no-eye that shit...'
They clutched magic tomes, so classes were legit mages—unlike the first knight.
His current 55,000 defense gear? Not a nick.
Stripped bare, his base was roughly 4- to 5-star. Geared and buffed? Pushed to 5.5-star weight class.
Had a Return Stone prepped for do-or-die... but hell, he could've strolled in naked.
Wanted to experiment more, but...
"How dare you... how DARE......!!!!"
In the village square—where knights had been butchering residents en masse—now the knights were Yuria's prey.
Armored bodies hacked to chunks, limbs strewn. Knights dying clueless.
Yuria at the epicenter, drenched in gore, methodically slaughtering.
"You filth...!!! How DARE!!!! You... to our, my... my...!!!! Master!!!!!"
Pure fury. Onlooker villagers huddled, quaking, breaths catching in throats. Her killing intent choked the whole village.
Black malice surged from her like it would devour the enemy horde whole.