Chapter 112

The silence that had prevailed until now was shattered, as screams and cries poured down like a sudden downpour.

The horrifying shrieks were almost impossible to imagine—what on earth were they doing?

A person, spraying blood, flew into the air before plummeting back down, a sight clearly visible even from a distance.

“Monsters! Demons!” Amid the panicked shouts, people from the eastern part of the village began to emerge from their homes, one by one.

“That’s a Kobold. A Kobold. So, if I shoot the Kobold coming this way…”

Milia calmly drew her bowstring.

At that moment, a blazing fireball soared in a parabolic arc.

“Magic…? No way…!”

Milia’s gaze turned toward the fireball.

There couldn’t possibly be a magician in such a small village. Ha-shal-leur, with her anti-magic abilities, couldn’t use magic either.

…Upon closer inspection, it wasn’t magic.

In the center of the fireball, a black figure was flailing desperately.

Though missing a leg, it was unmistakably a person.

“Good heavens. Did they set a person on fire and throw them…?”

It was a violent and bizarre act, very much like something Ha-shal-leur would do.

But the effect was undeniable.

The fallen fireball spread in all directions, slowly setting the eastern part of the village ablaze.

The screams of the people grew louder as they saw the flames. Those who had been pointing at the burning village now began running toward Milia.

Without hesitation, Milia pushed her left hand forward and drew the bowstring.

Her tense back muscles trembled, and the curved bow creaked with strain.

“Right. That’s… a Kobold. Isn’t it, Ha-shal-leur? Am I right, Damien?”

Muttering to herself, Milia spread her right index and middle fingers wide.

With a *ping*, the arrow shot out like lightning, piercing the head of the man leading the charge.

The man, killed instantly, spat out the arrowhead from the back of his skull and collapsed.

“Den!”

“What, what’s going on?! The monsters appeared over there…!”

The men, stunned by the scene before them, all stopped in their tracks.

A man with a scar on his cheek spotted Milia nocking another arrow and pointed in her direction.

“Idiot, look over there! What monsters? It’s that adventurer girl from earlier! Go grab her!”

“How are we supposed to catch an adventurer who hasn’t even been drugged?!”

One of the frightened youths retorted.

And rightly so, as most of them were just ordinary village youths.

They weren’t knights or adventurers—not even at the level of soldiers.

They had captured and crippled women who were deeply drugged or paralyzed, but they stood no chance against a fully active adventurer.

“So you’re just going to die? It’s just one girl!! If we all rush her, we can take her down!”

“Y-yeah! Better than burning to death!!”

The men, now in chaos, grabbed their weapons and charged at Milia.

Milia silently drew her bowstring.

As the men rushed toward her, screaming, she recalled the Kobold hordes she had seen before.

“Two Kobolds. Three Kobolds… four… five…”

Once she started counting, the rest came easily.

Arrows rained down, piercing through the enemies.

“Keugh!”

“Ahhh! My leg!!”

“Run if you don’t want to die!”

Kobolds littered the ground, screaming in a language resembling the Empire’s tongue.

A Kobold with its head pierced, brains spilling out.

A Kobold clutching its stomach, collapsing with a thud.

A Kobold rolling on the ground, gripping an arrow stuck in its leg.

Kobolds.

Milia let out a hollow laugh.

It wasn’t as hard as she thought.

—-

“You damn bitch!”

By now, a few Kobolds had closed the distance. Just a few steps, and their spears would reach her.

Their faces showed relief and excitement.

As if they were certain they could capture her at this distance.

“Typical monster intelligence.”

Ignoring the dagger at her waist, did they not see what she was riding?

Milia smirked and tugged the reins.

The brown horse surged forward, widening the gap between her and the Kobolds.

“Uh… uh?”

“Damn it…!”

A Kobold, about to curse, had an arrow pierce through its mouth.

The arrowhead, protruding from the back of its skull, was tangled with brain matter.

The Kobold gurgled and collapsed.

—-

It didn’t take long for the charging Kobolds to be wiped out.

Milia turned her horse and rode through the corpses, adding a hole to the heads of any Kobolds still alive.

“Ah… ahh……”

“P-please spare me, sis…!”

Only the young ones remained.

A young male, still with a boyish face, begged with tears streaming down.

“Sis? Me?”

Milia looked down at it. Its chin was smudged.

Unfortunately, it was a Kobold.

An arrow sprouted from the young Kobold’s forehead.

The little one trembled before going limp.

She felt little pity.

If it weren’t for Freide and Ha-shal-leur, she might have been the one under it tomorrow.

“Ahhh! AHHHH!”

The young one next to it screamed. Milia took out another arrow and observed it.

“No beard…?”

Then it was human. Probably.

Milia put the arrow back.

She didn’t feel like checking further.

Five remained. One Kobold pup and four humans, including this boy.

An arrow split the air.

Now four.

The Kobolds were all dead, only humans remained.

Milia stretched her sore shoulders and slung the bow back over her shoulder.

“I won’t kill you, so just stay still and wait.”

Her gentle voice, so out of place for a girl who had just slaughtered the village adults, only deepened the children’s terror. They nodded, trembling.

Milia smiled faintly and looked toward the village.

The spreading flames had already consumed more than half of the village.

Nothing else was coming out.

Looks like Ha-shal-leur took care of all the remaining Kobolds.

“But is it really okay to burn them all like that…?”

Milia tilted her head in confusion.

“Who knows. Ha-shal-leur probably has her reasons.”

Deciding to worry about it later, Milia got off her horse and started pulling out the arrows stuck in the Kobolds.

The arrows that still looked usable had to be recycled, after all.

Every time she yanked out an arrow, the dead Kobolds twitched and spurted blood.

The children’s cries grew louder.

======[Chapel. Freide and Damien.]======

“Damien. Have you ever killed someone?”

Freide, who had stopped the carriage, suddenly asked Damien.

Damien pondered the meaning of the question for a moment but concluded it wouldn’t hurt to be honest.

‘Well, I already killed one today.’

“A few times, I guess.”

Freide raised an eyebrow at Damien’s casual response.

“With that innocent face of yours, I didn’t expect that. Well, at least I don’t have to give you the usual advice.”

The usual advice like, “If you’re going to live as a knight, don’t hesitate to kill,” or “If you hesitate, you’ll lose your life.” Stuff like that.

If it’s already been a few times, he must have come to terms with it by now.

Freide and Damien, who had parked the carriage near the cemetery, crouched down and observed the chapel.

It was a surprisingly large chapel.

A single-story brick building.

A pointed spire stood on the roof, and windows as tall as a person’s torso adorned the walls.

Above the main entrance hung an old, slightly tilted sign.

The symbol of a scythe on a tombstone. It was the emblem of Ceres, the goddess of earth and death.

“So, what do we do now? Go in and cut them all down?”

Damien gripped the hilt of his greatsword, looking ready to charge into the chapel at any moment.

Freide stretched out her arm to stop him.

“Don’t be stupid. Who knows how many there are, but they’re probably all busy playing underground.”

If they’re in the chapel at this hour, it’s obvious what they’re doing. Probably having a grand old time, expecting new spoils.

Freide gritted her teeth, clearly disgusted and contemptuous.

“So shouldn’t we hurry and get in?”

Damien urged again. Freide didn’t blame him.

It was a common attitude among rookie knights—full of justice but lacking experience.

She’d seen it plenty of times before, and explaining the reason was usually enough.

‘Guess I’ll play the senior role for a bit.’

Freide locked eyes with Damien.

His expression was resolute, showing firm determination, just like other rookies she’d seen.

Except for one subtle difference.

It didn’t take long for Freide to figure out the cause.

‘…Right, it’s the eyes.’

That was the source of the difference.

Damien’s eyes seemed filled with a strong sense of justice, but there was none of the usual nervousness rookies often showed in such situations.

Even when he urged Freide, it didn’t seem out of desperation but more like a simple exchange of opinions.

It wasn’t a typical reaction.

‘…What’s up with him?’

Freide tilted her head in confusion but quickly pushed the thought aside.

It wasn’t something worth pondering over right now.

“Freide, senior?”

“Ah, right. Let me explain. If you’re thinking of a frontal assault, now’s not the time. Not only would you see things you’d rather not, but most of the enemies would probably grab the nearest hostages first. Got it?”

Even if they didn’t know how many were inside, if more than ten enemies took hostages, even Freide wouldn’t be able to save them.

Damien nodded, understanding Freide’s explanation.

“Right. So let’s wait. Until the commotion from the village draws them all out.”

They had let Ha-shal-leur loose in the village, so the commotion would be huge.

Big enough to make the scoundrels underground come rushing out.

That would be the moment to strike.

Soon, with the burning inn as a backdrop, the entire village echoed with loud noises and screams.

“That must be Ha-shal-leur, right?”

“Looks like she’s going all out. She seems especially aggressive today. Wonder why.”

It was entertaining to watch, but even Freide noticed that Ha-shal-leur’s behavior was a bit different from usual.

Not exactly more violent, but… more like pent-up frustration finally bursting out.

Like a cat playing with a mouse, full of malice.

“Isn’t that… the day of anger?”

Damien suddenly perked up as if he’d figured something out.

‘…Day of anger?’

“What’s that?”

Freide had never heard of it.

Wondering if it was some kind of slang, she asked Damien what it meant.

“The village girls said that women have a day of anger once a month, so we should understand if they’re a bit cranky.”

“Ah.”

Freide sighed, finally understanding.

‘So that’s what it was…’

It made sense to her.

Though Damien seemed clueless about what he’d just said.

From the chapel’s basement, hurried footsteps began to echo.

“Get ready. The first ones out will probably be scouts, so let them go. We strike when they come back with the others.”

Freide carefully drew the saw from her waist.