Blood and flesh splattered everywhere.
It was the result of smashing Miltram’s skull with an axe.
Honestly, I almost hesitated in the end, but thinking of how it resembled Liya’s body made my stomach churn.
I had only one precious younger sister.
No one else could be recognized as a sister.
No matter how closely they imitated Liya’s face, voice, and mannerisms, it was the same.
It seemed Miltram had vastly underestimated my love for Liya.
As I caught my breath, I cautiously observed Miltram’s condition.
The body without a head spurted blood like a fountain and twitched in convulsions.
I thought it was incredible that it hadn’t collapsed.
All life is bound to die when the head is smashed. There are no exceptions to that truth.
So for a moment, I let my guard down.
Knowing rationally that Miltram’s modified body wouldn’t end like this, I couldn’t help but lose focus due to the guilt of having seemingly killed Liya.
It was then that the headless body elegantly rotated.
I urgently crossed my sword and axe. It was a reflex action.
However, Miltram was not an easy opponent.
With a sudden kick, she stomped down on the intersection of my sword and axe. It would have been good if it ended there, but Miltram immediately withdrew her foot and executed a smooth follow-up movement.
It was seamlessly connected, as if she were performing a dance.
However, the power of the subsequent strike was incomparable to any mere dance.
A bang resonated, making me feel as if thunder had struck my mind.
The momentum of the kick to my side was terrifying. Given my already injured state, it was impossible for me to withstand it.
Blood gushed from my mouth, and my consciousness began to blur.
When I regained my senses, I realized I had already collapsed on the ground.
I exerted effort to stabilize my wavering focus, slowly turning my eyes to face forward.
There, Miltram was approaching.
No matter how many times I looked, it was a body strikingly similar to Liya’s.
From the curve of her collarbone to her chest, to the prominently curved hips and buttocks.
The only difference was that while Liya had lost her head, there was no frothing blood bubbling up from her.
It was a sign of regeneration.
Despite having had her head blown off, the time taken to regenerate was astonishingly short. It was a regenerative ability that could leave one speechless.
Seeing that figure, one who seemed to be immortal, I found myself feeling deflated.
How could I possibly defeat such a monster?
A bleak despair penetrated my heart.
Regardless, Miltram merely imitated Liya’s body and mimicked a lovely tone.
“Ah, this is just too much. How could you strike down your sister’s head without a moment’s hesitation?”
“Shut up, cough! I did it…”
Coughing and spitting blood, my body trembled.
It seemed I would need just a little more time to endure the shock.
But Miltram wouldn’t give me that much time.
In the next moment, Miltram’s foot crushed my wrist.
I tried to hold on, but I couldn’t do anything about my fingers involuntarily spreading apart.
Eventually, I let out a faint groan and dropped the axe and sword.
Only then did Miltram seem satisfied, bending down to meet my gaze.
She recited with a mournful tone, her lips resembling Liya’s.
“Our fate is cruel, Ian Fercurus… but it’s over now.”
Miltram’s delicate hand grabbed my hair. Forcing my head to lift, she fixed my gaze on something.
There lay our companions, already fallen and subdued.
“I-Ian… aah!”
“Ma-master? You, you bitch! Let our master go… ugh?!”
It was the Lady Virgin Saint and Senior Elsi.
They yelled at me with worried expressions, but the subjugation had already been completed.
There was no way to resist the grip that bound my arms behind my back as my face was forced into the ground. The strength of the test subjects was beyond that of an expert.
Hearing their screams, I wanted to rise immediately.
But all I could do was flail my arms a little. Miltram did not even prevent that minor struggle.
She merely blew a whistle, leisurely.
“Thanks to you, I’ve found some wonderful materials, Ian Fercurus. The test subjects who are subduing them right now are my finest masterpieces… knights, intelligence department agents, and excellent mercenaries.”
With affectionate eyes, Miltram looked at the ten or so test subjects one by one, and soon, she donned a benevolent smile.
“…but compared to the masterpiece I can create with the materials obtained today, they are merely fireflies before the sun.”
“Do you think everything will go as you want?”
At my faintly smiling provocation, Miltram laughed as if it were amusing.
“If not, what will you do? Now, look into their eyes.”
Ceria, Celin, and even the Lady Virgin Saint and Senior Elsi.
My companions all shared expressions of sorrow and anger. Some were mixed with concern for me or fear of what would happen next.
Miltram’s persuasion continued.
“Everyone except you has accepted defeat. Now it’s your turn to give up. I will specially allow you to retain your personality and live as a loyal servant of the Dark Cult.”
With an immortal body that would not die, of course.
Her words, delivered as if out of kindness, made me grimace.
At this point, I had no options left.
There was only one means remaining.
As I fumbled through my belongings, the moment I found what I wanted, I opened my mouth.
“…Miltram.”
“Speak, Ian Fercurus.”
At her relaxed response, I could only chuckle at the absurdity.
“Take care.”
Then, the void began to bleed.
It was the ‘Bloodletter Rune.’
I had wanted to keep it a secret from my companions until the end, but now there was no way around it.
Blood-red shapes were etched.
It was as if the world itself were scarred. No one moved, yet lines formed automatically into a single character.
The continent slept with all sorts of legends and myths.
However, among all those stories, there was only one magic that exhibited such characteristics.
A hollow voice escaped from Elsi’s lips.
“Bloodletter Rune…”
The symbol of the Imperial Court, a vision magic that could only be granted to the Emperor’s closest aides.
Nobles were certainly aware of its true nature.
Celin and Ceria had long opened their eyes wide. The only ones still maintaining their composure were the Lady Virgin Saint and Miltram.
Miltram, who was aware of the existence of the Bloodletter Rune, quickly threw herself.
It was a razor-thin decision.
As she moved away, the Bloodletter Rune began to absorb the surrounding magical energy. A short while later, a thunderous explosion swept through the clearing.
Boom! The erupting flames recklessly scorched the area.
Among the chaos, a shadow stumbled and rose.
It was Ian Fercurus.
As soon as he stood on the ground, he pulled out a small vial from his pocket.
Miltram was aware of the Bloodletter Rune’s existence but also that it could only be utilized once.
Now, the patience with which he would use the Bloodletter Rune was astonishing.
However, he never imagined that he would ingest a suspicious potion amidst the gap created by the Bloodletter Rune.
Feeling an ominous dread, Miltram screamed.
“Ian Fercurus! Wh-what are you doing…?!”
Miltram’s test subjects rushed toward Ian, but it was already too late.
Ian poured the vial into his mouth, swallowing every drop.
Miltram, with a tense expression, struggled to rise.
In her mind, Ian was an unpredictable individual.
With no clue as to what move he might make, she had to be cautious.
After all, he hadn’t even revealed the secret weapon, the Bloodletter Rune.
There was no way she would carelessly waste such a precious opportunity.
Yet, soon Ian’s action was enough to halt Miltram’s thoughts.
Ian collapsed right there.
The sudden turn of events caused Miltram to freeze.
“…?”
It wasn’t just Miltram who felt perplexed.
The companions observing Ian with wide eyes were equally unable to fathom his intentions.
For a while, a stillness enveloped the clearing in the forest.
The silence was broken moments later.
Ian’s fingers twitched.
With a groan, the man staggered and stood up.
He looked down at his hands with a puzzled expression.
Then, as he scanned his surroundings, his eyes blankly reflected a dazed expression.
As if his personality had shifted for just a moment.
After surveying the area for a while, his gaze landed on Miltram.
The man, whose eyes were filled with confusion, smirked as soon as he saw Miltram.
“…Miltram.”
He took a deep breath, filling his lungs.
And in the next moment.
With a clang, his foot lightly stomped down on the sword that had fallen to the ground.
The sword, rebounding from the impact, naturally landed in the man’s hand.
It was a feat that could only be performed by someone with a deep understanding of swordsmanship and the blade itself.
Light began to gradually return to the man’s golden pupils.
At that moment, both Miltram and the companions felt their breaths catch when they met that gaze.
He was strong.
Instinctively, alarms blared in their heads. Few could remain so calm before a decisive battle.
It required mountains of real-world experience and absolute confidence in one’s abilities to achieve such composure.
Miltram swallowed nervously, intently observing his eyes.
They were the eyes of someone bearing a relentless fatigue, as if they had weathered the storms of time and conflict alone.
The man, with those weary eyes, uttered his words nonchalantly.
“It’s the first time I’ve killed one person twice.”
As if intending to do so without hesitation.
There wasn’t a single trace of emotion in his voice.
It was as natural as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.
Miltram was going to die.
That was the man’s decision.
