"Man, I was worried, you know? You didn't come back for days. I waited allll this time."
The cat-eyed woman slipped off her hood, blond bob hair catching the flicker of the shop's candlelight. She was around twenty… maybe a little younger.
Her expression was bright, playful—yet her eyes locked on Enfi with the predatory pleasure of a beast savoring its prey.
A presence so dangerous it prickled against the skin.
"U-um… who… are you…?" Enfi asked, voice trembling.
He clearly didn't know her.
The woman giggled.
"I'm Clementine. I'm the scary, cute, aaand suuuper strong big sister who came to abduct you."
Her pupils narrowed into sharp slits.
The murderous pressure pouring from them forced a gasp from Enfi's throat.
A frog before a serpent.
"Enfi, get back," Peter barked.
In an instant, Peter, Dyne, and Lukrut stepped forward, shielding him.
Weapons raised.
Bodies tensed.
Clementine didn't flinch.
She licked her lips, lazy and hungry.
"I want you to use your little—y'know—'born-with-it talent'… that thing where you can use any item."
Her eyes glittered.
Talent: Universal Item Use.
Target: Enfi.
"With it, I want you to summon me a big, biiig undead army. You can do that, right? For me? Pretty please? With the Sage's Crown?"
Her voice dripped with honey—and poison.
The air hardened.
Enfi could barely breathe.
(…So that's it.)
Only Momonga remained strangely calm. Something had felt off from the moment they approached the shop—she had noticed a powerful soundproofing spell over the building. It hadn't been there last time.
Not an attack spell.
Nothing harmful on its own.
But definitely deliberate.
(And she talks too much. Let's see what else she reveals.)
Momonga probed deliberately.
"You seem awfully confident. Are you hiding companions? Or is that bluster just to disguise your weakness?"
Clementine's cheerful tone dropped an octave.
"…My, my. We've got a feisty one."
Her eyes sharpened with predatory annoyance.
Momonga met her glare directly—unmoved.
Clementine looked her over from boots to helm.
Her plate was battered from the forest.
Her rank tag glinted copper.
A weakling, by her estimation.
(Great armor, but clearly carried by the gear… a lumbering tank who only survived because of equipment.)
She had seen that type countless times.
And she loved breaking them.
"Well, whatever. I'm alone. Cleaning you lot up doesn't take more than one of me."
"Then this house's soundproofing spell—someone else cast it."
"Oh? You noticed? Smart girl. But yeah, Kazi-chan already went home. You took so, sooo long."
Her answer didn't ping on Momonga's detection magic—meaning it was probably true.
"You must have been very bored," Momonga said.
"Terribly~. So let's have some fun now."
Clementine cast off her cloak.
Metal clattered.
Everyone froze.
"…You're insane," Lukrut whispered.
Her light armor—more bikini than armor—was plastered with dozens of adventurer plates.
Copper, silver, mithril…
Countless trophies hammered into her gear like a mosaic of death.
"Hunting trophies…" Dyne growled.
Each plate glinted with the hatred of someone she had murdered.
Clementine smirked, delighted by their horror.
"I was hoping for a few more silvers. You guys will do."
She stepped forward.
Her body wavered—outlined like a heat mirage.
No gaps. No openings.
A warrior perfected.
Peter swallowed hard.
(This pressure… even before she draws her blades… she's terrifying.)
His hands trembled.
She was strong.
Unreachably strong.
"Everyone, stand back," Momonga said.
She walked past the others with serene confidence.
The Swords of Darkness' tension eased—ever so slightly.
The hero was taking the field.
Clementine frowned at the shift.
"Ohhh? Copper-rank goes first?"
"I can't trouble my seniors."
"You should run, you know? Hide behind those boys and scurry away."
"I doubt you'd let us go."
"Bingo~. I loooove stabbing cowards in the back. It's the best. Shame I won't get to do that today."
Her grin twisted.
"But hey—everyone jump me at once. Maybe you'll survive a whole second."
"That won't be necessary."
"…Huh?"
"For someone like you, I alone am enough."
The vein in her forehead pulsed.
"Do you even know who you're mouthing off to, you little—"
Her voice rasped like a blade on stone.
The Swords of Darkness shuddered.
Momonga was calm.
"I merely stated the truth—"
Clementine vanished.
To the eyes of the Swords of Darkness, she ceased to exist.
Only a streak of red afterimage flickered like a tail light.
Lightning-fast.
In a heartbeat she was in Momonga's chest space, drawing a stiletto with a motion too fast for a human eye.
Their gazes met.
Jade vs. Blood-red.
Ninya shouted—"Momon!!"
Metal shrieked.
Sparks flew.
Momonga's head was severed—flying through the air.
The Swords of Darkness screamed.
But the empty helmet bounced on the floor with a hollow clang clang…
No blood.
No flesh.
Only the helm.
Clementine twirled her stiletto, amused.
"Oh? Pretty face under there."
Momonga's true face—beautiful, serene, unshaken—looked back at her, flawless in the candlelight.
She shrugged, smirking.
"What's the point of acting tough when you can't even dodge that?"
"Why dodge an attack you didn't intend to land?"
"Oh, nice excuse."
But inside, irritation festered.
She was calm. Too calm.
(He must have a talent… something that dampens fear. Otherwise he would've cracked.)
She convinced herself of that.
The alternative—that she was above her—was unthinkable.
(He's stalling for time. Trying to let his friends escape.)
She pitied that kind of desperate courage.
Poor little fake hero.
She wanted to crush it.
Clementine trembled with excitement, already picturing how she'd torture her—peeling the perfect face, burning it, breaking it—
Her breath hitched in bliss.
Momonga asked gently:
"Is there something amusing on my face?"
She shook her head, giggling.
"Heheh—okay then. Time to finish this."
"Whenever you're ready."
Momonga didn't draw a weapon.
She lifted her hands slightly.
That was all.
Clementine dropped low—almost crawling.
A wild beast preparing to pounce.
Momonga noted it calmly.
She still had fight.
Impressive.
"Why not surrender?"
"Like hell! You think you—you little nobody with only strength—could beat me twice!?"
"You seem very confident."
A rare feeling warmed inside Momonga—anticipation.
Someone gazing at her not with awe… but challenge.
A true PvP fight.
She welcomed it.
Come with everything you have.
She inhaled.
Her pupils blew wide.
Ability BoostGreater Ability Boost
Her physical might surged past human limits—into the realm she called "hero."
"I am CLEMENTINE!!"
Her voice trembled with madness and pride.
And she launched.
Her epithet: Gale Runner.
Her body: a streak of living wind.
"YOU CAN'T BEAT MEEEEEEEE!!!"
So fast—
Peter couldn't even blink.
She carved the air, closing the distance.
Her narrowed focus tracked every motion, every breath, every possible counter.
This will land.
Her stiletto arrowed toward Momonga's throat.
A kill strike.
A perfect strike.
A strike even Gazef couldn't read.
And—
The tip stopped.
Not in flesh.
In fingers.
Momonga pinched her killing blade between two plated fingertips.
Her whole body jolted.
Cold terror raced up her spine.
Her instincts fired uncontrolled.
She drew her second stiletto instantly—aiming for her eye—
Pinched again.
"DAMN… YOUUUUUUU!!"
She screamed, forcing the stiletto's enchantments to activate.
The right blade erupted in flame.
The left spewed lightning.
A fiery explosion and a thunderclap shredded the room.
Direct hit.
Fatal hit.
No one could survive that.
Except—
Momonga smiled softly through the fire and lightning.
Alive.
Untouched.
Unburned.
Unscorched.
Clementine realized.
She isn't human.
A primal, ancient fear flooded her limbs.
"U… uuu…"
Her teeth chattered uncontrollably.
The stilettos slipped from her hands.
"Monster…" she whispered.
Then she turned and ran—
screaming—
crashing through shelves—
hurling herself bodily through a window—
and vanished into the night.
Momonga watched her go.
"…You said stabbing fleeing cowards was your favorite pastime, didn't you?"
She picked up the fallen stilettos.