Kill Them Quickly, I'll Cover My Eyes
Her solitary chuckling died out all too soon. The pre-dawn air was bleak and bitter, and walking alone through the dark with nothing but a small light to depend on was, in more ways than one, a nerve-racking affair. She had always been that kind of woman — afraid of ghosts and spirits, startled by anything that sprang out of nowhere.
So even with the Hand of Radiance serving as her lantern, she couldn't shake the dread that something might come lunging out of any corner at any moment.
'Why is it suddenly so scary?'
Bit by bit, Serina was starting to hate herself for being such a coward. Now, and again just moments ago. Even if killing him outright had been beyond her, she should at least have taken the evidence with her, so nothing would be left behind to cause trouble later. She'd had the courage to slice off a man's cock, and yet she hadn't been able to bring herself to pick the thing up.
All she could manage was a sigh. Considering that this was the world of a novel, reattaching it might not even be impossible. But every time she turned the thought over, it gave her such a chill that her regret never lasted long. The blood that had erupted from Lean's crotch and soaked half her body was already enough to haunt her nightmares — and she was supposed to carry back a cock drenched in it? She'd be lucky not to faint the instant her fingers closed around it.
'Still, I grabbed everything I actually needed.'
She had dressed herself in her Saintess vestments and dabbed away the blood smeared across her face with the tissues she'd brought along. The one flaw was a single missing piece of underwear. Of course it had to have fallen right beside the severed cock — and she hadn't been able to muster the courage to reach for it.
'...I feel so bare.'
The autumn wind that blew in the small hours was merciless. Every time it stirred, it flipped up the hem of her skirt and slapped cold against her lower body as it passed, leaving her buttocks strangely numb and her belly prickling with an unpleasant chill. She had never imagined that, out in the open, the absence of one flimsy scrap of cloth could leave her feeling this exposed.
'Well, to be fair, I've never once gone out without panties before.'
Serina swallowed a bitter taste. 'I made it out alive, didn't I? Look on the bright side.'
It was a small mercy that hardly anyone wandered the streets at this hour. She had also used her honed sacred arts to sink Lean into unconsciousness, so he would not wake for at least three hours. And even after that, he would certainly be unable to follow her. Though the Goddess had failed to stop the Hero who had violated Serina so many times before, She had lent Her strength to break his pursuit: Serina had bound the Holy Sword with a rope woven from the Goddess's own power. She had poured every ounce of her long-nursed hatred into naming Lean as its target, and so for ten days — until the rope dissolved on its own — he would not be able to lay so much as a fingertip on the blade. Should he carelessly try, he would find himself writhing in agony as his very soul burned.
If she simply kept moving through the hours she had bought and reached the Order, everything would end smoothly. Ten kilometers, allowing for detours. She could make that.
Serina let herself swell with hope.
“…………”
It was a hope that did not carry her far.
“The hell is with this bitch?”
“Looks like a cleric, from the look of her.”
Two men had been walking toward her from up ahead, sweeping their lanterns across the roadside. The moment they spotted her, each drew a weapon and began closing in.
“Must've been kicked out, then. Realistically, who in their right mind goes wandering around here at this hour?”
“Now that you mention it, yeah. The way she's dressed, too. More like a whore out selling herself—”
CRACK.
The dull, weighty crash silenced everything around them. The man watched the tree her mace had struck topple over with a groan, then shrugged, as though taken aback.
“Well, I take back the part about her being a whore?”
“I was just thinking the same. Looks more useful than those girls.”
“Useful, my ass. She'd probably fight better than you, you pig.”
Bickering as they were, neither of them slowed his stride, and Serina swept the mace gripped in both hands through a long, horizontal arc.
The mace whined as it cleaved through the air. A little closer, and it would have connected — but she didn't mind missing. Just as she wanted, the two men stopped dead in their tracks at the same moment.
“If you've said your piece, then get lost.”
When silence followed, Serina measured the distance between them and tightened her grip on the mace. Tension she hadn't managed to suppress quickened her breathing and set her arms trembling. It was the moment her still-unconquered weakness bared itself for all to see.
Gelf, who had drilled her in the art of combat on a steady basis, had studied her way of fighting and declared that she carried far too many weaknesses. And yet, he'd added, the sheer destructive power that could shatter almost any weapon offset every one of them — so his advice had been to never expose those weak points, and to stay calm and settle a fight in a single blow.
'Of course, Lady Saintess would rather avoid unnecessary fights, so a little show of force wouldn't hurt, either.'
But they had no intention of taking their beating meekly. With their weapons already drawn, those two meant to overpower her and then butcher her — or toy with her for hours and pass her around between them. And even if it hadn't been those two, no one would have let her go gently. That was why she had felled the tree: as Gelf had taught her, she'd wanted to take the measure of their skill.
Yet the men had halted just short of the point where her mace would reach, and stood there staring at her. Not a trace of fear on either of them. At the very least, they were men with combat experience.
“Aren't you trembling a little too hard? For all that fire, I'd bet you've never killed anyone in your life. Just come here quietly. I'd rather not hurt you over nothing — though who knows? If that body of yours is worth the trouble, maybe I'll let you off easy after a few rounds.”
“Hey, don't spook her for nothing. She'll piss herself at this rate. Pretty as she is, I'm not sticking it in a cunt soaked with piss.”
“That's your problem. Going around with nothing under her clothes — the bitch looks half-crazy to get mounted. Just keep her around and scrub her down properly. What's to worry about?”
“True enough. She's got nothing on under there. Though it won't be you two doing the washing.”
The voice came from behind her, and for an instant Serina's skin crawled. If her wrist hadn't been caught, she would have swung the mace right then and there.
“Easy. I'm here to help you.”
She turned her head and looked up at the man. Like the others, he wore no armor worth mentioning — but the instant she saw the crest engraved at his wrist and the longsword sliding free of its scabbard, she could guess what he was.
“...A knight?”
“Wait right there. Don't go running off.”
With that, the knight passed her by. The men who had been threatening Serina straightened up the moment the word knight reached their ears. Armor or no armor, the simple fact that a man carried a proper weapon already marked him as a danger to be feared. The Hero himself, after all, had been a man chosen from among serving knights; from the moment one bore the symbol of knighthood, one was all but a living weapon of war.
While the air pressed down heavy, not a single word was exchanged. The soft rasp of the knight's scabbard sounded once, twice — then was swallowed beneath a man's scream. The first of the two to move finally raised his dagger and hurled himself at the knight. The weight that came into those leisurely footsteps arrived in an instant. Dropping low, his speed surging in a blink, the knight slipped the attack that came screaming at him head-on and swept his blade up at an angle.
The air tore with a short hiss, and beneath the moonlight fresh blood arced long and dark. His body blocked her view, so she couldn't see it clearly — but she could tell the severed thigh had come away entirely. As the man who had lost a leg pitched backward, the other charged at the knight with an inhuman shriek. The dagger thrust with deadly precision at his nape glanced off a gleaming mace and went spinning away.
Staggering at Serina's sudden intrusion, the man left an opening wide open — and the mace, swung again without a moment's hesitation, slammed into his waist.
CRUNCH.
With the sound of bones giving way, the man's body folded. Serina planted a foot on his waist — delicately, since it would be a problem if the shock killed him outright.
“Tch. Not much to him after all.”
“……”
Serina noticed a frown carved into the knight's face as he stared at her.
“Wh-what? Got a problem with that?”
“What are you doing?”
“You told me not to run, so I was helping?”
The knight moved his blade in slow, unhurried strokes, grazing it across the throats of the moaning men. Blood welled up from the shallow cuts the tip had left behind.
“I'm asking why you didn't kill him.”
“...Didn't you hear earlier? I don't know how to kill people.”
“You could have said so from the start.”
Serina jolted and threw herself onto his arm.
“Wait, wait a moment!”
She heaved her whole weight backward in a hard pull, and an annoyed breath hissed out of the knight.
“Why?”
“Th-they did threaten me, but that's no reason to kill—”
The knight leaned over and slipped a hand into the fallen man's breast. He soon fished out a few choice items and dangled them where she could see.
“Can you make this out?”
It was dark, but she could recognize them well enough. A few property deeds and a pouch of gold coins.
“A few days ago I took a commission. To catch a pair of bandits who've been roaming about living like mountain raiders.”
Her eyes began drifting toward the men.
'So they really are bad men. Then I'll just capture them and hand them over—'
“They gang-raped the family's daughter in front of her parents and fled—”
Serina released his arm at once.
“Q-quickly, kill them! I-I'll close my eyes!”