Yeah, She Really Is an Assassin
I watched Lena lay Camilla back down on the bed, organizing my thoughts.
Not about her special abilities or SS-rank status—those were secondary.
What really bothered me was her abnormal loyalty.
Lena's loyalty is normal. It doesn't make sense for someone to have high loyalty to a stranger they just met.
Besides, this was a master-slave relationship.
Who would want to be a slave?
Sure, hanging around slave traders, you see cases like that sometimes, but this was different.
Most slaves were forced into it and ended up with owners they didn't choose.
So their loyalty was never high.
They just followed because they had to.
That was it.
But Camilla was different.
We hadn't even exchanged words.
Just eye contact, once.
Yet her confirmed loyalty was 49.
It crushed Lena's score.
Does that mean Lena lacks loyalty? No, of course not.
Even 13 was a solid number.
But 49?
I couldn't even grasp what that meant.
For a moment, I wondered if the System was glitching.
The System doesn't lie, though...
My head was spinning.
I never imagined one random slave I'd picked up would complicate things this much.
While I pondered Camilla, in the northern forest of Baron Sellevan's estate...
Near the mine halted by war's aftermath, about ten figures—men and women mixed—began appearing one by one.
Their expressions were deadly serious.
"The death aura is thick, for certain. But it's not quite like the rumors."
"The source is deeper in. Not the mine."
"Yes. Talk of an undead dragon seems exaggerated."
They'd entered another's territory without permission, scouting boldly.
A mixed group, their attire striking.
Worn and ancient-looking, yet clad in brilliantly silver armor.
Golden metal fittings peeked from under dark robes—gear any knight would covet.
Moving as one, they resembled a walking iron wall.
And the brands on their foreheads.
That defined them.
Self-proclaimed slaves.
Slaves of the divine, executors of holiness.
Holy knights.
"Oddly, despite the heavy death aura, no undead near Baron Sellevan's castle."
"Indeed... The baron's faith runs deep. Even amid war's trials, he doesn't neglect guiding the dead."
"Yes. And Commander Petra, take a look at this. Got it from a mercenary—thought you should see it."
A ring handed to who seemed their leader, Petra.
The purification ring I had made.
The holy knight captain smiled faintly at it.
"Pure purification energy. Faint, but unmistakable. Crafted by a craftsman of devout faith."
"I thought so too... But rumors say it's no craftsman."
"Not a craftsman? What do you mean?"
Here to handle the undead issue.
But now, something more intriguing had caught their attention.
"The maker's rumored to produce holy water too."
"Holy water...? Some priest with crafting skills? Nothing special."
"Haha, if that were it, I wouldn't mention it."
Commander Petra leaned in.
Curious about a maker who was neither devout craftsman nor priest.
"A mage, they say. A mage."
"What? A mage? Possible?"
"Yes. I doubted my ears at first. A mage making something like this."
Mages lacked deep faith.
Handling mana directly shifted their focus to it over gods.
So a faithful mage piqued Petra's curiosity.
"Pity. If not for the mission, I'd meet him."
"He follows Goddess Seras's words faithfully too. Can you believe this ring's only 25 silver?"
"25 silver? Serving humbly from the shadows."
Petra smiled warmly at the price.
Such power for 25 silver? Absurd.
It screamed no-profit intent.
From my view, it felt unfair—but misunderstandings bred more.
"Maybe why few undead in Sellevan's lands."
Petra nodded at the man's words.
Faint power, but ample against undead.
"Impressive fellow. A mage with such faith. If only others followed his example..."
Somehow, I was already a "friend" on Petra's lips.
Never met, yet she liked me immensely.
Crafting this and giving it near-free? Faith beyond ordinary.
Normally, she'd rush to meet me—but circumstances prevented it.
"Once the divine mission's done, I'll pay a visit."
Finishing, Petra donned her silver helm.
The group's mood shifted instantly.
"Time to fulfill our sacred duty."
The iron wall advanced.
The silver bulwark plunged fearlessly into the forest's deeper shadows.
"Camilla! I said no moving! Your wounds aren't fully healed—stop that!"
"Aww! Lena sis, I know my body best. Just spit on it and it'll heal! See? Ptoo! Oh... sorry, sis..."
"Ugh... Fine. Just lie down and rest."
The playful mood sobered instantly.
Camilla had spat on her palm—then missed, hitting the floor.
Still adjusting to the missing arm, it seemed.
"Oh! Master! Master's here! Hee-hee!"
She spotted me and toddled over.
Crutches under her arms, limping along.
Despite her blunder, she handled the crutches like a pro toward me.
"Camilla, how's your body feeling?"
"All better! See? I can move now!"
"Yeah? Heals fast. Good."
I'd worried since recovery potions failed—but once lucid, she mended quickly.
"Any tasks, Master? I'll do anything! Whatever it is!"
"Tasks? Yeah."
"Really? What? Just trust me!"
"Rest. And obey Lena."
Not what she expected—her face fell instantly.
More expressive than I'd thought.
I'd pictured assassins as dead-eyed lurkers, but she defied that.
Plus... her excessive loyalty doesn't seem like a problem?
A few days ago, when she first woke, I'd been tense.
Couldn't predict side effects.
Her brief mental state had looked unstable.
But contrary to fears, she seemed downright cheerful.
Better not ask about her previous owner?
I was curious, honestly.
How an SS-rank assassin ended up enslaved.
Her condition and that scene gave clues enough.
Digging up the past might shake her mind.
Best leave it buried.
She's bonding surprisingly well with Lena too... Unpredictable.
Compare her arrival to now—night and day.
Just days, but color returned to her cheeks; minus minor scars, she looked like any early-20s girl.
Even bubbly. Almost absurd.
Hard to imagine her assassinating like that.
No... that's why she's SS-rank?
From my hunter days, surprise was always a weapon.
Camilla fit the ideal assassin mold.
Unlike Lena, I hadn't discussed status adjustments with her.
Situations differed completely.
"Camilla, come here. Let's take your measurements."
"Huh? Measurements? For what?"
"Can't crutches forever, right?"
She tilted her head.
Sounded like no crutches.
"Um... One-legged walking's tough, but I'll manage soon! By tomorrow!"
"No, not that..."
"Hee-hee, with real strength, I could now... Sorry."
I rubbed my forehead at her words.
Moments like this, her mind seemed off.
"I'm making you prosthetic arm and leg."
"Prosthetic arm and leg?"
"Might be new here? Lena, ever heard of prosthetics?"
Maybe no concept here.
My old memories lacked them.
But Lena's response suggested otherwise.
"Prosthetics exist. Prices vary wildly by function and quality."
"Right?"
"For Camilla? You can make those too?"
Even Lena looked shocked.
Used to Sunogi weapons—prosthetics surprised her.
"Can. And they exist, yeah?"
Since they did, fine for Camilla.
Her eyes sparkled with wonder.
"Maaaster! Can you make one with a blade? Or... wrist that spins, joints that snap every way?"
"Why a blade? Spinning wrist? What?"
"Spinning wrist startles people! Unlocked joints... handy for lots. Hee-hee."
Ridiculous from Camilla.
But measurements were worse.
"Lena, help measure."
"Yes! Leg length..."
"Cut-off's 24.7 cm!"
Before measuring, Camilla rattled it off.
Checked—spot on.
24.7 cm.
"Elbow up 3.2 cm, wrist 19.6 cm, thumb finger... Oh! No finger sizes?"
Her follow-up left Lena and me speechless.
Would've teased if wrong—but perfect.
"You should know these... right?"
Camilla gauged our reaction.
I just sighed deeply.
Her cheerfulness had me doubting, but yeah—she really was an assassin.