After the attack on the Northern City of Salem, the fiery swordswoman Karen and the ashen-haired girl Nya walked together in a gloomy cave.
Propping up one another, they carefully made their way forward, under the watchful gaze of a group of bats nesting in the ceiling.
“Ugh, that Crow guy got us good. Wanpurgis can’t ignore the threat a great warrior like him poses,” Karen remarked.
“I’d rather not have to deal with him ever again,” Nya replied. “He doesn’t look like it, but the guy’s a monster.”
One somber, the other annoyed, the pair discussed Crow—unbeknownst to them, neither a great warrior nor a monster, just a sad loser under the thrall of a cursed sword.
The two nodded to one another, agreeing to be more careful next time.
“We’ll need to be mindful of him. He’s a force to be reckoned with, just like Iris of the White Blade,” Karen said. “Also, Nya, you look really cute now. I had no idea who you were at first.”
The swordswoman had only just fully taken in the appearance of her fellow Seven member, whom she’d known for ten years. Unlike the hoodlum from before, she(?) now looked like a nondescript young girl. All the two forms had in common was the fox-like eyes, naturally slanted due to Nya’s strong personality.
“Hey! Stop staring, stupid!” Nya snapped, turning away in embarrassment from her(?) colleague’s tepid gaze and clicking her tongue. “It was the best I could do in an emergency. It’s not like I wanted a woman’s body. Well, not a talentless woman’s body, anyway.”
“Huh, so you wouldn’t have minded a talented woman’s body?” Karen asked, a bit taken aback by the unexpected statement.
“Obviously,” Nya responded. Blushing dreamily, she continued, “It’s embarrassing, sure. But if it means I can be of service to our great leader, then that’s enough for me. I’ll accept any humiliation if I can be a cornerstone for the glorious future he’s building.”
“Yikes. There’s the religious fanatic I know,” Karen said.
“What do you mean, ‘yikes’?! Rude bitch!” Nya retorted, puffing her cheeks up angrily.
Karen turned her gaze to the stone bracelet on the girl’s wrist. Tamamo-no-Mae, the Ashen Killing Stone. Such an outlandish aethereal arm, she mused.
The stone’s powers were that of soul preservation and possession. Its wearer’s soul was contained not in their body, but within the bracelet itself, which could be put on another person to take over their entire existence.
Nya had once told her, “People whose minds and bodies are in shambles are more likely to give in to possession without resisting.” Karen had sighed and remarked that this was extremely creepy.
“Say, after your old body was suddenly killed, you snuck onto the body of a dying local girl, right? How did you do that when your previous vessel was already dead?”
“Oh, I didn’t mention? Even without a body, I can at least make the bracelet vibrate,” Nya explained. “So I just went brrrrrrr all the way to the girl’s body.”
“Gross,” Karen said.
“Did you just call me gross?!” Nya snapped.
Startled by the angry voice echoing throughout the cave, the bats flapped their wings in unison.
“Also, Karen, don’t disrespect our great leader like that!”
“Oh, I respect him, all right—fear him too. I’ve known him for twenty years, after all. Unlike some people he only recruited ten years ago.”
“Aaaaaaargh! I’m so jealoooooous!”
Despite their argument, the atmosphere between the two was friendly. To a casual observer, they would look like sisters, rather than dangerous terrorists who had nearly destroyed a major city.
When they’d made their way halfway into the cave, a voice suddenly rang out, “Hey, you two! You made it back in one piece!”
A bat crossed their field of vision, and suddenly the scenery around them began to change.
The ground they’d been treading on shifted into a red carpet, and the dark cave stretching before them was now a dignified throne room.
“Wait, you’re not in one piece at all! Karen’s cut open, and Nya is...adorable? What the hell?”
A middle-aged man sat on the throne before them. His voice, though perplexed and rough, was clearly tinged with concern.
“Master, we have returned,” the two said in unison, getting down on one knee and bowing in reverence, ignoring their wounds.
The man, flustered, exclaimed, “This is no time for formalities!” He rushed over to them. “Forget that! Go get treated! And you, Karen, mind your movements! Your guts might spill out or something!”
“But Master Vortigern, we can ill afford to not show respect to our organization’s great leader.”
Indeed. The man was Vortigern, leader of Wanpurgis, the Order of the Black Star.
Glancing at him gave the impression that the years had taken a toll on his appearance. He looked like he’d once been dashing, but now his skin had lost its luster, his jaw was covered in stubble, and wrinkles had begun to form around his eyes. His dull, sooty golden hair was long and unkempt. The man looked like a grizzled lion who had been cast out of its pride.
Karen would never underestimate him, however. Even just speaking to him made her break out into a cold sweat.
I was almost fooled at first. He looks like some nice old dude, but no.
It had been this very man who had orchestrated the attack on the Four Cardinal Cities, after all. He was a bona fide destroyer. Reminded of this fact, Karen bowed her head even lower.
“Hey, Karen! I told you, no formalities! Your guts are about to spill out! And your chest too, sort of!”
“I don’t mind it if you see my chest. It’s covered in burn scars anyway.”
“What? Don’t say stuff like that!” Vortigern protested. “Hey, Nya, back me up here! She’s being all weird and sensitive with me.”
Instead of getting the help he sought, the man was baffled to see the (now) young girl burst into a waterfall of tears, forming a puddle at her feet.
“P-Please, forgive us! We ran into an unexpectedly formidable foe, and we couldn’t destroy Salem!” Nya wailed, sobbing violently and clinging to her master’s leg.
“Nya! Hey, Nya?!”
Flustered and confused, Vortigern considered asking Karen for help, but she was just bowing her head even lower.
Her intestines peeking out from her wound, she declared, “My apologies, Master. We’ve suffered a crushing defeat.”
The atmosphere grew more and more awkward as the two severely wounded women kept expressing their regret.
“You two, I swear...” Vortigern said, sighing.
Grabbing them by the scruff of their necks, he made the two stand upright, put a hand on each of their shoulders, and gazed straight into their eyes.
“You failed your mission, you said. Very well. Both of you should indeed repent. Your allies may blame you for your failures, yes. You’ll have to accept and endure that as your punishment. Today, you two wallow in defeat,” he said, confronting them with their failure instead of coddling them.
But then he suddenly grinned widely, roughly petting their heads.
“Whoa!”
“Master?!”
“Seriously, though, relax, both of you!” Vortigern exclaimed merrily. “Sure, Salem still stands, but the other three cities? Gone. The empire’s in for a really bad time!”