“…Kaa-sama?”
She awoke to a feeling of warmth and opened her mouth.
Crishet always slept hugging Grace.
That was precisely why she mistook the sensation for Grace, and was slow to realize that the person before her was Gaala.
There were tear tracks around Gaala’s eyes, and she was fast asleep, utterly exhausted.
Looking more closely, she realized this wasn’t her own house.
She realized it was Gaala’s house and searched for her mother.
—Ah, that was right.
It was then that she finally remembered the events of yesterday.
Screams and maniacal laughter echoed through the village.
Huddled in the center of the plaza, where the large well stood, were women and children.
Surrounding them were armed men, their faces twisted into grotesque grins.
The worn gauntlets and breastplates they wore were mostly military issue; they were likely bandits, former soldiers.
Corpses lay scattered across the plaza.
Some had their entrails spilled, others their skulls crushed, or their arms severed.
They had been the husbands, fathers, or sons of those trembling in the center.
Some screamed the names of the fallen, while others retched at the stench of spilled viscera.
There were those who laughed insanely, unable to accept reality, and women being pawed at over their clothes.
Surrounded by such violence, they no longer possessed the strength to resist.
Even children who tried to flee were mercilessly slaughtered.
The village men, who had watched this unfold with grim resignation from the rooftops, descended, cast aside their bows and swords, and knelt to beg for mercy.
With those they should have protected taken hostage, there was nothing more they could do.
It was likely a common tragedy—to be attacked by bandits and have everything stolen.
Far from any main road, deep within the forest.
No one would extend a helping hand to Karka, a village existing in such a remote place.
Through the violation and plunder about to commence, they would undoubtedly be stripped of their everyday lives, their human dignity—all of it.
If they were lucky, perhaps the village itself would remain.
However, for most, this marked the end of their happy days.
“Oi, there she is. Little missy, come over here.”
Amidst this chaos, a lone girl was addressed by a man who appeared to be the bandits’ leader.
The girl, clad in a shabby tunic, was perhaps twelve or thirteen years of age.
Her long silver hair shimmered and swayed in the moonlight, her large violet eyes surveyed her surroundings impassively.
Amidst this despair, the girl’s beautiful face showed neither fear nor terror.
With a detached air, she counted the corpses, took stock of the bandits’ numbers, and then looked at the man who had spoken.
—They’ve killed quite a few people.
Wondering what should be done, the girl—Crishet—stepped towards the man as bidden.
She hadn’t expected things to get this bad.
She briefly reflected that she had been too slow to react to various developments, and with that, her regret ended.
The girl showed no emotion towards either the bandits or the familiar faces among the dead.
Just as her small form was about to move as called,
she was stopped by a woman of strong build—Gaala.
“Don’t go! I-I’ll do something…!”
Though trembling, Gaala embraced the girl, shaking her head repeatedly.
Crishet looked up at her with a troubled expression and said,
“But if I don’t go, the women will be killed.”
she stated with utter calm.
She didn’t even have a sword. For the moment, given the situation, her only option was to comply.
Crishet gently pushed Gaala aside to step forward and smiled. “It’ll be alright.”
If Gaala thrashed about and got herself killed, Crishet wouldn’t be able to use the oven anymore.
Crishet spoke from this utterly self-centered perspective. Hearing her, Gaala bit her lip hard enough to draw blood and clenched her fists.
As the man chuckled, “A plucky little missy,” another woman stepped forward as if to shield Crishet.
“I-I… I’ll do anything… I beg you, just leave this child alone.”
She had long black hair tied back and appeared to be around thirty years old.
Though she had a scattering of freckles, she was a beautiful woman with well-defined features.
It was Grace.
Vulgar, jeering voices rose from the surrounding bandits.
Hearing those voices, her face pale and her voice trembling, the woman nevertheless stood her ground.
The girl looked up at her mother, surprised.
She considered the meaning of her mother’s words, taking in her frightened appearance.
“…Kaa-sama. Crishet will be fine.”
Her mother merely shook her head, still standing protectively in front of the girl—Crishet.
She wasn’t particularly strong-willed, nor did she possess any great strength.
If anything, she was clumsy, timid, and somewhat scatterbrained.
—And yet, this mother of hers repeated.
“Please… I beg of you, just not this child.”
The man flashed a lewd grin, his gaze crawling over her feminine form as if to defile it.
“Heh, I like that. That kind of thing really gets me going… Doing it in front of the daughter is always the best, especially with a prime piece like you.”
“…!”
Though trembling, her mother told the man, “Do as you please with me.”
Please. I beg you—she pleaded as if broken, clinging to the hope of mercy from this man brimming with malice.
The girl stared intently at her mother in this state.
She couldn’t imagine the man before them would ever keep his promise.
But surely, Grace was saying this, fully aware of that.
Hoping he might show even a sliver of mercy towards her daughter.
Crishet pressed a hand to her chest and tilted her head slightly.
It was a strange sensation—as if she were floating, or perhaps trembling.
The sight of her mother, willing to throw everything away to protect her.
Considered in terms of profit and loss, it was utterly incomprehensible.
Her mother’s actions made no logical sense; they even seemed meaningless.
And yet, Grace was likely prepared to offer even her life for her.
She was trying to use the thing most precious to her, for Crishet’s sake.
—In times like these, what should I offer in return?
She wondered this, experiencing a sensation as if her chest were burning.
“Well, the fun can wait. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything to the little missy. Come over here with her.”
“…Mm, yes.”
Her train of thought interrupted, Crishet approached, feeling slightly displeased.
Slowly, with her usual gait—the slight distance was a problem here.
Grace quickly stepped forward as if to shield Crishet and grasped her hand.
At the touch, Crishet narrowed her eyes ever so slightly, her expression softening a fraction.
The man watching the girl leered. “Can’t get enough of this,” he thought.
“…Still, the more I look at her, the more of a stunner she is. Can’t imagine how much she’ll fetch…”
“Th-this child…”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. She’ll be fine.”
“…!”
The man’s hand reached brazenly for Grace’s breast.
But Grace closed her eyes, offering no resistance.
“It’s not like I’m planning to sell her to some awful place. Some noble or rich merchant will buy her. She’ll eat much better food and live a far better life than in this backwater village.”
He said this, smirking, as if testing the feel of her breast.
Grace pressed her lips together in humiliation and disgust, yet she endured it without resistance.
“Besides, you’re going to keep me company, right? There are bastards out there with a taste for brats like this, but hey, don’t worry. I’ll make damn sure no one lays a finger on this girl.”
“Y-yes…”
Grace could only nod at his patronizing words.
Seeing Grace lower her head, tears of mortification welling in her eyes, Crishet’s brow furrowed slightly.
And that was the trigger.
At this point, there was likely no need to worry about the village rules anymore.
It wasn’t ideal, considering the potential disruption to her future life, but the situation had deteriorated so badly that it was already too late—with no other options, it couldn’t be helped.
There was the warm sensation of the hand holding hers.
At the very least, her mother would continue to ensure her way of life.
No matter what happened from now on, her mother would be by her side.
In that sense, she felt secure, and that was enough.
For what Crishet desired was an everyday life, unchanged from before.
She let go of Grace’s hand and approached the man who seemed to be the bandit leader.
“Hm?”
Then, she smoothly drew the scimitar hanging from his waist.
It was a scimitar, curved forward like a billhook, weighted towards the tip.
‘Looks easy to use,’ the girl noted casually.
She swung her arm as if cracking a whip—
“Wha—…?”
—and with its tip, slit open the man’s undefended throat.
Illuminated by the flames consuming the village in the dead of night.
The bandit leader—from his neck, fresh blood spurted like a fountain, drenching the girl.
Crishet paid it no mind, idly twirling the scimitar in her hand.
The scimitar felt good in her hand, fitting her grip perfectly.
Showing no interest in the collapsing man, Crishet swung the sword two or three times as if to test its balance, then smiled and nodded.
Everyone was struck dumb.
The air froze. All eyes were fixed on the lone girl, bathed in a shower of blood.
Everyone understood what had just happened.
But this beautiful girl’s sudden act of defiance.
It had been so terrifyingly natural that their minds couldn’t process it.
Faced with such an unforeseeable event, no one could utter a single word.
In the ensuing silence, only Crishet, her face as impassive as ever, glanced around her surroundings.
The number of bandits was twenty-two.
For her, it was certainly not a significant number.
She assessed the bandits’ faces, calculating the order in which to kill them.
In a world where time seemed to have stopped, only she moved as usual.
“…Well then, next.”
Her voice, somewhat sweet and childlike, was light.
Just like the resonance of that sound, Crishet stepped forward, closing in on a nearby bandit.
With a single leap, she narrowed the distance, then swung her scimitar as if her entire body were a whip.
Unaware that the flesh of his neck had been sliced off, the slashed man crumpled to the ground.
Then, the neck of the man beside him.
――That makes three.
Virtual muscles, constructed by mana, clung to her slender limbs, and she manipulated them at will.
No strain, no fear; her body was merely a tool to achieve her objective.
The power the girl obtained through mana was a strength beyond ordinary reason.
Sharp, fast, efficient.
The swung scimitar reaped another man’s neck.
Without even glancing at the collapsing corpse, she moved to her next prey with beast-like agility.
Crishet felt no hesitation.
With the same naturalness as reaping wheat, she dispatched another before the bandits could even begin to move.
“Ugh, what the hell are you doing! Stop the brat!”
The next moment, the bandits’ screams and enraged shouts echoed.
As if released from paralysis, their time began to flow again.
However, arrows pierced three of them.
“――We have the numbers! Get them!”
Overlapping the bandit’s voice was Garlen’s hoarse――yet powerful cry.
He had endured, prepared for villager sacrifices, and had been watching for an opportunity from the shadows.
At his voice, Gaara-san and several of the more strong-willed women sprang into action.
They grabbed the legs of nearby bandits, tripping them, and then pounced on them to immobilize them.
In concert, the men who had been tied up also began to move, slamming their bodies into the bandits.
Despair turned to chaos.
Suddenly driven into a corner, the bandits, unable to recover from the confusion, were either restrained or killed.
Even amidst this, what truly caught the eye was her silver hair, dancing in the wind.
She approached a bandit and reaped his neck.
The satisfying sound of flesh tearing as if bursting. That sensation.
What the girl was engaged in was not a battle, but work.
As if dancing amidst the blood spray, the girl’s steps were ever so light.
Like a snake slithering on the ground, or like a cat stealthily sidling up.
She closed the distance from outside her opponent’s awareness.
Her body was as supple as a whip.
The sword flashes she produced avoided the cervical vertebrae, accurately reaping only the soft flesh. Tearing it, slicing it off.
Twisting her hips, twirling around, it was just like a sword dance.
The copious amounts of blood she was showered in soaked her clothes and stained her hair――and with every dance, she scattered crimson droplets.
The situation, once on the brink of despair, had already reversed, transforming into a mere hunt.
The tables had turned; the bandits were hopelessly outnumbered.
The psychological advantage the bandits had established vanished, replaced by sudden confusion.
Now, they were the ones on the brink of despair.
This afforded the girl reaping the bandits’ necks some leeway.
As she beheaded her tenth victim and kicked the sternum of the eleventh man with the heel of her sandal, shattering it, her mind pondered the reward that would come after this was over: the pumpkin she had missed out on eating.
Pie was definitely essential. But what about the soup?
While savoring the sensation of cutting through flesh, what danced in the girl’s head was pumpkin.
She held not a shred of interest in the lives being lost before her eyes.
Feeling no pleasure, she worked mechanically, business-like――if necessary, she would mass-produce corpses indefinitely.
She was less a person and more a concept,
“D-don’t move! Do you not care what happens to her?!”
What stopped the girl’s movements was the voice of a man.
She saw the figure of a woman with a blade pressed against her.
If it had been anyone else, the girl probably wouldn’t have cared.
However, that person was the girl’s mother,
“――Kaasama.”
At the sight of Grace-sama, her hands and feet, which had been moving without pause, stopped.
The girl merely narrowed her eyes coldly.
Gado’s face, who had taken Grace-sama hostage, was distorted with fear of this incomprehensible being.
What stood there was the figure of a girl, her long silver hair dyed red with blood.
A monster of exquisite――fairy-like beauty, yet one who reaped necks without any hesitation, casually.
――A creepy brat.
Gado had long since realized that the girl named Crishet was abnormal.
He had even sparred with her before.
She wore human skin, but this girl was something more horrifying than a beast.
He had clearly thought she was not normal.
Looking at her again now, there was no room to doubt her abnormality.
She was unmistakably a monster.
And he understood that he could never defeat the girl before him with a sword.
If things continued like this, he would end up among the surrounding corpses.
That was clearer than anything. Fear surpassing a critical point, Gado grabbed the nearby woman――Grace-sama, pressed his sword to her neck, and created distance between himself and Crishet.
“Don’t move, don’t move…!”
This was someone she couldn’t afford to have killed.
Someone she would continue to live with, just as before, after this was over.
Crishet, who had been moving without pause, stopped her feet and tried to find her next move.
“L-let go…!”
――It could be said that this was the result of compounded misfortune.
The distance was too great to cut down Gado.
Grace-sama thought she must not become a hindrance to her beloved daughter.
Gado had fallen into a state of extreme panic.
As a result――
“Crishet…!”
“Hih, this bitch――”
――He wanted to escape the terror before his eyes.
Gado forgot that the hostage was the very thing keeping him alive.
And so, he began to struggle, and as Grace-sama started to hinder him, he drew his sword across her neck.
Fresh blood danced, and screams rose from the surroundings.
Grace-sama’s eyes widened, reflecting Crishet.
A moment of blankness.
The instant Crishet saw this, she lunged forward and swung her sword.
Instantly, Gado’s life was extinguished.
――It was so fast that later, some would testify that Crishet had cut down Gado along with her mother.
Kicking Gado’s body away, she caught her collapsing mother.
Crishet looked around, confirming there were no more targets to be wary of.
Then she immediately laid Grace-sama down and looked at the wound on her neck.
A large amount of blood gushed out――she pressed down with her hands, but of course, it wouldn’t stop.
Even knowing it was half-pointless, Crishet pressed the wound with both hands.
Crishet, raised in a village without a doctor, possessed no medical knowledge.
All she understood was that necks bleed easily, and creatures die if they lose too much blood.
“…The blood, it won’t stop.”
“I-it’s fine…”
Grace-sama barely managed to extend her hand to Crishet’s cheek.
Crishet just desperately pressed, trying to staunch the overflowing blood.
“Kaasama, it’s not fine. The blood, we have to stop the blood…”
It looked as if she tried to shake her head slightly.
However, with just a twitch of her face, Grace-sama gave up and smiled.
“C-shet… I love… you…”
“…Kaasama.”
Suddenly, Grace-sama’s strength left her.
Crishet was stunned as Grace-sama’s life was lost before her very eyes.
――It was a blunder.
If it had come to this, she should have pushed Grace-sama towards the women at the beginning.
Or if she had only realized a moment sooner to throw her sword.
Such regrets spun around in Crishet’s head.
A feeling of discomfort reared its head in her stomach.
Those who noticed Crishet and Grace-sama’s situation were speechless or froze――among them, only Gaara-san ran over.
“No, this… It’s a lie, it has to be a lie… Why…”
Gaara-san’s eyes welled with tears, which spilled, and she slammed her fist on the ground with enough force to draw blood, then squatted down, overcome.
Crishet just stared blankly at Grace-sama’s corpse.
――Under the blanket, Crishet vaguely recalled yesterday’s events.
Not feeling anything in particular, she just thought about it.
And she stared at the outcome as if dazed.
Golka was no longer here. Dead.
Grace-sama was also no longer here. She couldn’t save her.
The things that had always been by her side were gone.
It was an irreparable failure.
Regret swirled, but there was nothing she could do.
It was very regrettable.
But, that was all. It was something that couldn’t be helped.
Even if she went home, she wouldn’t see their faces.
She wouldn’t be able to hug them and sleep.
She could understand, and she could imagine.
It was regrettable. But what was done couldn’t be undone.
“…I couldn’t repay you.”
Crishet murmured so, and closed her eyes, feeling somewhat restless.
She hugged the sleeping Gaara-san and went back to sleep, trying not to think about anything.
――When she woke up again, Crishet was back to her usual self.
The next evening, a large-scale funeral was held on the outskirts of the village.
After digging a large pit, placing the bodies there, and performing a grand cremation, they would be buried in places of personal significance.
Death was considered a return to nature, and it was customary to send off the departed with smiles at a modest feast, but after such a tragedy…
Even when drinking sake, no one smiled; everyone watched the flames with solemn faces.
There were those who wailed as if driven mad.
Some became empty shells in despair from losing their loved ones.
But Crishet, as if it were natural, shed not a single tear, remaining expressionless, merely handling things dispassionately.
If she could have shown tears here, cried like a child, things might not have turned out this way.
However, Crishet’s demeanor struck everyone as eerie.
She, who had lost her father and then witnessed her mother’s death before her very eyes, was far too composed.
Above all, the image of her dispassionately severing the bandits’ heads remained strongly etched in the villagers’ minds.
The sight of her unhesitatingly severing the bandits’ heads.
Despite being saved by it, the fear that arose at that time mingled with the sight of an emotionless Crishet, and this compounded the rumors occasionally spoken of her—that she was a monster.
Some even whispered that Crishet had killed Gado along with her mother.
Now, even some of the women harbored such feelings, and from then on, Crishet became hopelessly isolated in the village.
The women who had maintained particularly good relationships with Grace and Crishet defended her, saying her state was due to severe shock and that reality simply hadn’t sunk in yet, but rumors only bred more rumors.
There was likely some misdirected anger involved as well.
They sought someone upon whom to vent their unplaceable anger and sorrow, and in such cases, the target inevitably became Crishet.
The precarious balance surrounding her crumbled, and the uncontrollable rumors spread endlessly throughout the village.
If Grace had lived, things might have been different.
Her grief over losing her beloved husband would have served as a distraction from Crishet, and the sight of her affectionate relationship with Crishet would surely have reminded them of their former daily lives.
A future where Crishet was celebrated as the village’s little hero might even have been possible.
But now that Grace was gone, things only took a turn for the worse for Crishet.
Because of that, life could not continue as before, and Crishet subsequently found herself in a very uncomfortable position.
Two weeks passed since the bandit attack, and a peddler appeared.
A few scattered people were in the plaza; upon seeing Crishet, they kept their distance and whispered amongst themselves.
Crishet paid them no mind and approached her intended peddler. The slightly older, middle-aged merchant looked at Crishet with pity.
He knew there had been a bandit attack in the village and that many lives had been lost.
For that reason, partly out of caution, he had postponed his scheduled visit from last week to today, and as an apology, he was selling his goods a little cheaper than usual.
However, Crishet, who usually would have been the first to arrive, was not there. Thinking, surely not…, he asked a villager and, as a result, came to understand Crishet’s current situation.
The work of a peddler who visits many villages—for the man, it was a familiar sight.
In closed-off village societies, once a rumor started, it spread quickly and soon became established as fact.
And once it was established, it was irreversible.
“…Are you alright?”
A hardworking girl with beautiful features, who, rather than being envied by other girls, had actually been beloved.
His heart ached that such a girl was being treated this way, and the kind-hearted man had asked without quite realizing it.
“…? Um, yes.”
Crishet tilted her head slightly but nodded.
She might care about others’ evaluations, but she didn’t care about their gazes.
No matter what was said in rumors, it was merely uncomfortable and a little troublesome; to Crishet, it was no longer a big deal—she wouldn’t be hurt by such things.
Therefore, she didn’t quite understand what the merchant was worried about her for.
The reason she was late was that she had gone to get some pocket money from Gahlen.
Unlike Grace, who was always in the village, waiting for Gahlen, who often went out hunting, took a little time.
But the peddler, who had jumped to his own conclusions about why she was late, convinced himself that she probably found it difficult to act as she used to.
“Merchant-san, may I have a pumpkin?”
To the merchant who wore a sad expression, Crishet, on the contrary, even offered a faint smile as she spoke.
On the day of the night raid, because the bandits had ransacked the house—perhaps to check it—the pumpkin had fallen from the shelf and shattered.
For Crishet, who had planned to eat it after the funeral, this was a major miscalculation.
Moreover, because the merchant hadn’t come last week, she had been forced to wait even longer. Crishet’s craving for pumpkin had reached a fever pitch, and today, she could finally get her long-awaited pumpkin.
Therefore, Crishet was in a very good mood today—however, her appearance, with her usual faint smile, seemed to the pitying man as if she were somehow forcing herself.
“Ah… wait a moment.”
The peddler thought for a bit, then, in addition to the pumpkin, he gathered some vegetables, tubers, and fruits into a basket and handed it to her.
“…Um? Just the pumpkin…”
“It’s alright. You’ve been through a lot. This is a little something from me for Crishet-chan, who always buys from me. You don’t need to pay.”
“Um, but…”
“It’s fine.”
He pressed the basket on her, then placed his hand on Crishet’s head and said,
“…It might be tough right now, but a good girl like you will surely find happiness. I can’t say it lightly, but… hang in there.”
“Yes…?”
Tonight, it would be the long-awaited pumpkin soup and pie.
For Crishet, who was, if anything, happy, his words were puzzling, but she nodded for the time being.
The peddler smiled at her reaction and lightly patted Crishet’s head a few times.
“I’ll keep coming back. Crishet-chan is a good customer, after all. I look forward to you buying from me again.”
“Yes! Thank you very much!”
Crishet bowed deeply and turned away.
She didn’t quite understand what was going on, but she had received a lot for free.
The pragmatic Crishet, in high spirits, toddled off towards home.
The peddler watched her retreating figure with narrowed eyes and offered a prayer to the gods for her future.