* * *[ Belita ]* * *
‘Damn it.’
Belita, who had successfully escaped from an overwhelmingly disadvantageous encirclement after running like a beast, even using her arms.
She gritted her molars in rising shame and humiliation as she sprinted toward her subordinates who had chased after the wagon.
‘When it rains, it pours. Of all times, to get my shoulder there…’
A situation where she had made a grand entrance with all the composure in the world, then tried to fight while testing the waters, only to be counterattacked and have her face completely crushed before fleeing disgracefully.
Since becoming a nationally wanted criminal after rampaging and killing all noticeable adventurers, had there been another day when she experienced such humiliation?
‘Damn it, damn it…!’
Belita bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.
The mental damage was severe.
Although her skills might have gotten a bit rusty from lying low quietly, she never imagined she’d be driven to the point of fleeing with injuries against just two female knights.
Although she tried not to show it in front of the enemies, Belita’s heart was already boiling with indescribable displeasure and embarrassment.
Throb.
‘Ah, really. It hurts like hell…!’
Moreover, it wasn’t just her spirit that was wounded, but her body as well. No, come to think of it, the physical damage was far more severe.
She couldn’t even retrieve the spear she had just newly acquired, and although her right shoulder had received emergency treatment with a potion, it was still bleeding profusely.
Furthermore, her left arm had also been considerably strained from striking the ground to leap forward.
Between the fallen vambraces, the sporadically visible gray skin was torn as if cracked.
‘…What on earth was that damned woman?’
Looking at her left arm, whose skin itself was writhing and slowly regenerating, Belita recalled the armored female knight she had faced off against until just now.
Her skill level itself was just that of a decent knight, but for some reason, every time their eyes met, an alarmingly clear sense of crisis would rise, which was irritating.
‘Setting aside the swordsmanship that seemed more suited for a spear… strength that couldn’t be overpowered even by the ‘Troll’s Arm’. Where on earth did she get such power from?’
Her swordsmanship, specialized in thrusting, was crude yet systematic, and the strength she occasionally displayed was comparable to Belita’s left arm with its transplanted troll bones and muscles.
Was that strength the source of the sense of crisis Belita herself had felt? It was impossible to know now.
‘It’s not just that woman. That beggar-haired brat next to her was a bit strange too.’
The black-haired girl with long, messy jet-black hair. She too was an opponent from whom Belita felt an inexplicably intense sense of crisis.
‘Why did she seem so dangerous…? Her strength and movements were decent, but in the end, that was just at the level of an ordinary knight.’
Not like a pufferfish that inflates its body by sucking in air, but a bizarre intimidation that seemed several times more dangerous than the skills she displayed.
It might just be an unsightly excuse now, but it was because of this sensation that Belita had been defeated without even fully revealing her true abilities.
Because the sense of crisis disproportionate to their skills was seriously irritating, Belita thought they must be hiding some kind of trump card.
Therefore, she had fought while testing the waters, aiming to make the blonde woman and the black-haired brat reveal their true colors after a fierce battle.
…Although she ended up fighting too cautiously and suffered an unexpected counterattack, immediately putting her at a disadvantage.
“…”
As the more she thought about it, the more it felt like her anger would boil over, Belita shook her head vigorously and stopped thinking.
‘…Let’s put that thought aside for now. Right now, accomplishing the mission Lady Ariane entrusted to me comes first.’
The mission Ariane had entrusted to her. To seize the Jötunn heart one step ahead of the other Abyss Priests and bring it back.
Given the situation where other Abyss Priests could appear at any time, now she had to catch and annihilate the fleeing ones as quickly as possible, steal the Jötunn heart, and escape.
“—Kuida! Aim for the wheels!”
“You damned bastards…! Get off! I said get off!”
“Ughhh…!”
And that moment was right before her eyes.
Her subordinates focusing their attacks on the horses and wagon wheels, and the not-really-merchant group members desperately trying to prevent this while riding on top of the wagon or running alongside it.
Looking at them, who had now come within about twenty paces, Belita increased her speed even more and sprinted like a whipped racehorse.
“Aim for those wretches! I’ll destroy the wagon—!”
The troll’s left arm swelled its muscles, making creaking noises.
* * *
It didn’t take long for Lug and his guards to be completely wiped out.
Belita, with her injured right arm hanging limply, viciously swung her left arm imbued with troll strength, crushing and tearing apart everything and everyone within reach.
Blood and screams spread like waves, and ripped off and crushed heads decorated the air around like thrown balls.
Although she had shown a serious disgrace in her fight with Hilde, Belita was originally skilled enough to easily take down even decent knights in ten exchanges.
She was not an existence that Lug’s guards, who fell short even compared to copper token adventurers, let alone Hilde or Friede’s level, could hope to face.
After destroying the wagon and killing the horses, it took only tens of seconds to grab the heads of the resisting merchant group members and pluck them off like turnips.
“Ha, you were going to end up like this anyway. Putting up useless resistance.”
“Ugh… kuhhk…!”
In the middle of the sea of blood spilled by the headless corpses, Belita laughed as she trampled on Lug’s head, whose limbs had all been crushed, turning him into something like an insect.
“The idea of disguising as a small merchant group to smuggle the heart wasn’t bad… but you’re unlucky. Of all things, to get caught like this? Right?”
While washing away the humiliation in her heart with the excitement and joy of abusing the weak.
“Keuuuu….”
Lug couldn’t even answer.
He had no presence of mind to do so. His consciousness was already on the verge of departing for the other side due to the extreme pain.
In a situation where his limbs had been crushed flat like paper and burst. It was unbearable pain for Lug, who was not a combatant.
“In my opinion, I think the Goddess or whatever has punished you. For stealing spoils of war belonging to the church, saying what truly impudent fellows you are.”
Belita sneered while gently shaking Lug’s head by moving her foot back and forth as she trampled on his face.
Insult and abuse to heal her wounded pride.
If there had been ample time, she would have torn him apart until he begged to be killed, not just crushing his limbs.
But now, there was no time for that.
“Lady Belita! We’ve found the ‘heart’!”
“Ah, is that so? Then this is useless now, right?”
Crack!
As soon as she heard her subordinate’s report that they had found the Jötunn heart, Belita brought down her raised foot like a hammer, shattering Lug’s head into pieces.
Eyeballs bouncing and rolling on the ground like marbles. Blood mixed with gray matter burst out with a splat, staining the ground beneath her feet.
The headless middle-aged man’s body convulsed like an insect and wet his pants.
“Tch.”
Belita spat on Lug’s back, then wiped her shoe sole on the dirt ground that hadn’t yet been stained with blood, and turned her head to look toward the wagon.
A wooden wagon broken in half and crushed like an old man whose spine had been hit with a hammer. One of her masked subordinates was pulling out a chest about the size of a human torso from among the debris.
“Bring it here. And if you have any potions, pass those over too.”
“Yes!”
The masked person immediately ran over, handed her a potion bottle while opening the chest to show her its contents.
A rotten smell wafted up strongly.
“Hmm…”
Belita sprinkled the new potion on her right shoulder while checking the contents of the chest with a slightly furrowed brow.
A lump of flesh that had rotted and turned black. A heart the size of a human torso was emitting a chilling cold along with a rotten smell that could make one’s nose twist.
“…Looks like this is it.”
Belita nodded and flicked her finger to order them to close the lid again. A faint satisfaction settled on her face, which had been wrinkled due to the stench.
‘Good, now I just need to return.’
Although things had gotten complicated in various ways and she had seriously lost face in the middle, looking at just the result, it wasn’t wrong to call it lucky.
Whatever happened, she had obtained the Jötunn heart like this for all to see, and her inner worries about the intervention of other Abyss Priests also ended up being groundless.
Now there was only one thing left to do. To leave this place as quickly as possible and safely deliver this heart to her master.
If she lingered here and happened to meet another Abyss Priest, it would be like cooking porridge only to feed it to a dog.
“You all did well. Entrust this heart to me and disperse to return as planned!”
Belita shouted, turning to look at her subordinates who were tending to their injuries.
It was her job to return with the heart. The role of the remaining subordinates was to quietly return by dispersing in all directions so as not to draw attention.
“Yes, Lady Ladros!”
The subordinates, whose numbers had decreased somewhat but were still vigorously alive, bowed their heads in response and turned to scatter in all directions.
…No, they were about to scatter.
“Flamma Procélla.”
If not for the voice of an unknown woman that came along with a clear and frivolous laugh.
But that was now impossible.
Whoosh.
Flames rose up, drawing a circle as if surrounding the sea of blood where Belita and her subordinates stood.
Small flames flickered for a moment and then went out.
Boom!
The next moment, it turned into a raging storm of red flames.
“Wh-What is this!”
“It’s a magician! Damn it, Lady Belita!”
In the midst of the whirlwind of flames blocking all directions. Just as Belita’s subordinates, flustered by the sudden surprise attack, were about to take a step back with exclamations of shock.
“Yes~ Incineration, incineration!”
Along with a woman’s voice full of mischief, the wall of swirling flames suddenly contracted, sweeping over all of them like a wave.
It was the manifestation of 『Flame Storm』, a wide-area destruction magic on a completely different level from mere 『Fire Arrow』.
“Kyaaaaaaah!”
“Aaaaargh! My body! My boooody!”
“Lady Belita! Daa-heuh, gaak, gyaaaaaaah!”
The men engulfed in flames danced with screams as they burned like torches.
Firepower enough to burn people to death in an instant and then some. Blisters that had formed on the skin burst one after another, and flesh and muscles all burned and crumbled like coal.
Hiss…!
The puddles of blood that had thoroughly soaked the ground evaporated from the heat, spewing grayish-red steam like clouds.
An overwhelming act of destruction that didn’t even give time to resist. Nearly twenty men literally became burned lumps of meat in an instant and collapsed.
“Fuck… what is this…”
Leaving only Belita standing still in the middle with a dumbfounded face.
“That’s enough, Diren. Are you trying to burn even the heart?”
A voice heard from beyond the firestorm.
A man’s voice, soft and gentle yet somehow seeming cold-hearted, lightly rebuked the woman named Diren.
“Ah, is that so? Just a moment!”
Diren, the woman who had turned the surroundings of the wagon debris into a hell of fire with a single spell, responded in a coquettish voice and extinguished the flame storm.
“…”
Belita looked at her subordinates who had become human charcoal with a blank face, then raised her head toward the direction the voice had come from.
Hiss…!
Beyond the steam of blood rising even more fiercely from the heat left after the flames disappeared. A man wearing splendid armor was walking toward her.
“Is that the heart? Fortunately, it seems to be still intact.”
Black iron armor with gold craftsmanship added. Well-maintained golden hair flowing with luster and ruby-red eyes.
“That Rivilla bastard, he told me to just trust him, but to think he’d mess things up to this extent. It’s good I came to check just in case.”
He was a handsome young man overflowing with the dignity characteristic of high lineage, as if his very status was different from ordinary people.
“Uh… uuh…?”
Belita gaped and let out an inarticulate groan.
The sudden surprise attack that was too abrupt.
Her subordinates wiped out as if it were a joke.
A massive shock was striking her mind to the extent that she couldn’t even pay attention to such facts.
It was a familiar face.
No, it would be strange not to know this face. At least for anyone born in this country, Hervor.
“He-Heid…?”
“Who are you to casually utter someone’s name, you lowly wench.”
Heid Gardarik Hervor.
The first prince of the Kingdom of Hervor. The owner of the holy sword Tyrving.
The hero of Hervor was standing before her eyes.