"Uwah, uwah, uwah — I was wrong, please don't kill me."
The arm holding the Scales of Obedience was trembling violently. Tears squeezed from the corners of Aura's eyes and streaked down her face — yet her voice was utterly flat, devoid of any feeling whatsoever, as though she were reciting lines from a script. The sincerity of her expression and the emptiness of her tone formed a contradiction so jarring it almost looped back around to being impressive.
By now, Aura's body had been opened up by more than a few cuts from the short blade. Even her lovely purple lace nightgown had been slashed in several places, glimpses of pale skin flushed red visible through the tears in the fabric. She looked, in every respect, like someone who had just lost a fight.
Scales of Obedience: I am already broken. ( )
After the initial exchange, it had become clear that Aura — pure raw strength with no actual combat technique to speak of — was on the losing end.
The black-clad assassin was deeply perplexed. In terms of sheer force, he was dominating her. And yet every single time he drove for a vital point, this great-horned Demon somehow, impossibly, wriggled out of the way at the last second.
He had already chased Aura in circles around the room several times over — and still hadn't managed to put her down.
Even with the Mana-Sealing Stone formation neutralizing all magic in this area, with no enhancement spells active — how is she still this fast?
He knew well enough: the Empire's assassins, trained specifically to eliminate Mages, were the natural predators of close-range spellcasters.
In the future, when Frieren passed through a small village on her travels, she would happen upon one such Imperial assassin who had been lying in wait there for ages. His partner had long since died of old age in the vigil. The assassin himself was a nearly bald old man — and even so, his ability had earned Frieren's acknowledgment.
Of course, the moment distance was opened and a Mage could unleash covering fire, even the strongest assassin became useless.
"Really, I beg of you — please don't kill me."
Aura kept murmuring her emotionless pleas as she sprinted around the room, occasionally swinging the Scales of Obedience up to deflect the short blade slashing toward her.
Scales of Obedience: What a wonderful master I have. Thank you, sincerely.
Even as he hunted Aura down, the assassin kept one eye fixed on the door at all times. Every single moment she angled toward it — every attempt to bolt for the exit — he had cut her off a step ahead.
There were partners standing guard outside, yes. But this was a matter of professional pride.
"I'll get on my knees for you — just please don't kill me."
Hollow tears spilled down and fell. Aura, covered in wounds, ran with a lightness of step that bordered on supernatural.
If one looked closely, though — Aura's injuries were, in truth, only superficial.
That was entirely thanks to her extraordinary talent for running away.
"Would you just stop moving?!" There was a faint rasp to the voice now.
The Imperial training had long since burned every last trace of emotion out of this assassin. And yet — right now — something unmistakably like anger was welling up inside him.
He had never in his life seen a Demon this infuriating.
And he still couldn't manage to kill her.
"Stop moving? Then you'd just kill me."
Aura's tone was perfectly matter-of-fact. Her feet never slowed. Her face remained utterly composed — the classic, absolute poker face of the Demon Race.
Just as the two of them were locked in this stalemate, the firmly shut door suddenly swung open — and a second black-clad, masked assassin stepped inside.
"My target wasn't in my room, so I came to help."
This was the assassin who had been assigned to Nanoda's room. He had searched every corner and found nothing, and so had come to assist in one of the others.
By a stroke of coincidence, the room he wandered into happened to be Aura's.
"Uwah, uwah, uwah, uwah, uwah — please, please don't kill me."
The moment Aura saw a second black-clad figure step through the door, she squeezed out another round of tears on the spot. She had the distinct feeling that this time, she was genuinely finished — and so, for the sake of form, she began pleading for her life once again.
"...Help me kill her. She's the target."
The assassin who had been dealing with Aura this whole time went silent for a moment — then finally snapped. At this point, all he wanted was to resolve this disgraceful situation as quickly as possible.
The rumors really couldn't be trusted. Aura of the Seven Sages of Destruction, Great Demon — in the flesh, she bore absolutely no resemblance to the terrifying figure described in those accounts.
"Sure."
The second black-clad assassin drew his short blade as well. In his assessment, his partner was behaving rather oddly — why had he been clutching his chest when he spoke just now? Was he having palpitations?
The two assassins exchanged a brief glance, then closed in on Aura — who was standing barefoot atop the bed, clutching the golden Scales of Obedience — from both sides.
This time, there was truly no way out.
In a room this size, two opponents were more than enough to seal off every escape route entirely. The running-in-circles strategy was finished.
Aura drew a slow, deep breath. Both hands tightened around the shaft of the Scales of Obedience, and the expression on her face twisted into something fierce.
"Humans — don't get too full of yourselves. I am Aura of the Seven Sages of Destruction. It's just... just one more person, that's all."
The words grew less and less convincing as she said them.
A Great Demon of five hundred years — to be cornered and killed by a handful of humans like this, unable to use the mana and magic she had always taken such pride in?
The morale that had already been scraped rock-bottom surged back up, just once more.
With the swing of her emotions came a flash of desperate, reckless resolve.
She raised the Scales of Obedience high above her head — and hurled herself forward with a scream.
A short blade flew.
It drove straight into Aura's arm. Just as she was about to leap down from the bed, she lurched — her grip went suddenly slack — and the Scales of Obedience dropped from her hands and clattered to the floor. She herself crumpled and collapsed along with it.
"Ngh..."
She pressed her hand over the bleeding arm and slowly drew out the blade that had been buried there.
It hurt.
It truly, genuinely hurt.
Why did it hurt this much?
The assassin who had been tangling with Aura this whole time watched her finally go down. Rather than finishing her off immediately — as though to vent the full weight of his frustration — he drew his leg back.
And kicked her hard in the stomach.
"Run, then. Weren't you so good at running?"
"Ngh..."
With a dull thud, Aura was kicked clean into the side of the bed frame, her stomach lurching and roiling.
The pain in her arm and the pain in her gut twisted together into something overwhelming. For the first time, Aura's face crumpled.
"You're actually angry?"
The assassin who had thrown the blade was genuinely surprised. He hadn't imagined this Demon would push someone trained to feel almost nothing all the way to anger.
"Enough. Finish her off — the mission comes first. If you won't do it, I will."
"No. Let me."
The assassin who hated Aura looked down at the Demon lying crumpled on the floor, curled in on herself, trembling. He leveled the short blade in his hand at her head.
It hurt.
Ah. So this is really it — I'm going to die?
Why? What is this feeling?
Fear? Am I... afraid? Frightened? Because... I'm going to die? Because of... death?
If Nanoda were here right now...
She didn't know why, but that thought flashed through her mind without warning.
She watched the short blade descend slowly toward her forehead. She closed her eyes.
Time always seems to pass so slowly right before the end.
Demon pride. Vengeance. In this moment, all of it felt like it was losing its meaning.
Only one thing remained.
The desperate, clawing desire to live.
"Hey — wait."
"Aura is mine to bully!"
Crash!
The arc of moonlight beyond the window was blotted out by a silhouette. Glass exploded inward in a shower of glittering shards. The entire window was torn apart by sheer force.
A familiar voice. A familiar faint scent drifting through the broken frame.
A single broken horn swept down and knocked the killing blade out of the air.
____
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