Finally, the man noticed that a woman was standing next to the girl that seemed to be called Laladie. She was clad in a ninja’s dark garb, and while only the scant bit of skin around her eyes was visible, he could guess from the bulge at her chest that she was a woman.
The woman shot the girl a disapproving look. “If thou art useless even within thine own forest, thou shalt not ever prove thine worth.”
“Shut up!” Laladie snapped back angrily. “Lala only messed up because she was trying to avoid you guys! Lala would’ve killed them all if she was alone!”
“I find myself doubtful of thine claim.”
“Why, you…!”
The remnants of the subjugation squad stared affixed at the couple as they argued. The man could feel hatred bubble up from within his chest as their attackers continued to ignore them.
“Fucking bitches!” one of the guildsmen spat as he drew his sword. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you!”
He charged towards them, but he never got close enough to strike. A knight had come out of nowhere and taken his head clean off his shoulders with a single deft swipe. Then, without her face betraying so much as a whisper of emotion, she wiped the blood from her blade.
The knight pointed a shuddering finger at her. “R-Ritter-dono?! Why are you here? No, why are you siding with them?!”
She cocked her head to the side in confusion, her black hair swaying only slightly. “I’m a member of Yerkchira,” she replied bluntly.
“What?!” All the gathered knights recoiled in shock and horror.
A Royal Knight working with the Messianic Legion? It was unfathomable.
One of the knights at the back of the formation trembled for a moment before breaking off in a run back the way they came. News of Ritter’s betrayal had to reach Efan at any cost—especially since Ritter was said to be a close friend of the queen.
“I need to tell Her Majesty!” he muttered as he ran.
“Yeah, ain’t gonna let you walk out with that one.”
The would-be messenger froze. Their foes were supposed to be behind him, but a woman’s voice seemed to be coming from the darkness in front of him.
That hesitation was his downfall. An iron fist collided with his face, crumpling it like an old sheet of paper. One of his comrades squealed in horror as gore splashed against his face.
“We need Ritter in the knights, see?” The woman smirked as she drove her fist into her palm. The arching horns sprouting from her head made it clear she was no human. “It’s kind of a part of our plan.”
“I… wouldn’t say that much, Leiss,” Ritter replied flatly.
As the squad trembled at the demon-woman, however, another voice, this one thin and pitched, caught their attention.
“Oh? Is the fight already over, perhaps?”
She was unarmed and clad in a rather low-cut crimson dress. The brightness of her clothes only made the pale, sickly hue of her skin more apparent. She wasn’t half as intimidating as their other attackers—in fact, she looked rather weak.
“Over there!” One of the guildsmen pointed in her direction. “We can get outta here!”
One of his comrades nodded. “Roger!”
They both charged at her. The woman, however, only rolled her eyes languidly.
“Could you please not? You reek somewhat awful.”
She lightly waved her hand, and the men’s heads exploded.
“Gwegh?!”
“Ugh!”
Their eyes feebly bounced off nearby tree trunks, the gore of their brains startlingly vibrant in the darkness. Still, the bodies limped forward, somehow still standing despite the horror of their deaths. They began to stumble toward the woman at the sickly noblewoman’s side—a maid, by any measure.
“Stand back,” she intoned calmly. “I can’t let you stain my beloved uniform.”
In the blink of an eye, the headless walkers collapsed into dozens of fleshy chunks. Only now could the survivors see a highly unusual-looking sword clenched in her fist. It took a great deal of raw power to cleave through so much flesh and bone, but the maid had made it appear trivial. A few of them shuddered.
The red-dressed woman smiled. “You cut so beautifully, Schwarte.”
“And you, Vampille, are as sloppy as ever. Look at the mess you’ve made.”
“Y-You’re hardly any better!” Vampille shrieked back.
To the survivors, the pale woman was Death itself—no, every one of the women surrounding them was an avatar of Hell. It was clear that not one of them would survive at that rate.
“Aaaaaaagh!! Somebody help!!”
They scattered in all directions, running as fast as their legs could carry them. If they split up, then maybe at least one of them would survive—they outnumbered the women, after all.
This realization came a mere instant before this last hope of theirs was quashed.
“Gah! G-Goblins?!”
Just beyond the dark guild’s encirclement was a throng of green-skinned monsters, their rusty shortswords thirsty for human blood. Under normal circumstances, the subjugation squad would’ve had no trouble vanquishing the monsters. The sight of their comrades’ gory fate, however, had left them too shaken to resist.
“Gaaaagh?!”
“Aaaaaaaagh!”
One by one, they were swarmed by the creatures. Their deaths were far from quick and easy, as the goblins took their time to enjoy every second of the slaughter, avoiding the killing blow for as long as they were able.
A red-headed woman stood behind the throng, her arms folded indifferently under her ample bosom, as she watched the monsters work. Her brow was furrowed with disgust.
“Even I’m disgusted by this, and I’m the one controlling them.”
“Yeah,” chimed a second woman at her side. She wasn’t as curvaceous as the first, but she exuded an oddly seductive aura. “You’re the worst of the worst, Corine.”
The few remaining men looked at each other frantically.
“What now?!” one asked in terror. “At this rate, we’re all gonna…”
He was suddenly cut off by one of his own friends and colleagues—who drove his sword straight into his gut.
“Wh-Why…?” he muttered, hacking up blood.
“What the fuck?!” the attacker screamed, staring down at his sword. “Why’d I stab him?!”
A fresh chill ran down the others’ spines. From the look on his face, he was truly shocked by his own actions. His surprise didn’t last long, however, as another guildsman slit the second’s throat, despite the fear and denial covering his face.
Corine shot a dark look at the woman beside her. “Really? Do you have to make them kill each other? That’s just sick, Krankheit.”
She giggled impishly. “You think so?”
Corine rolled her eyes. Krankheit was a coward through and through, but she had a sadistic streak that readily took over at times like these.
“Y-You gotta be shitting me,” the man muttered to himself in horror.
He was the last survivor of the subjugation squad. All around him were the maimed corpses of his comrades. There were so many of them mere minutes ago. He could hardly believe he was the only one alive now.
“Well, it looks like you’re the last.”
He jumped with a shrill squeal as a woman in a priestess’s crisp uniform approached him. She had a polite, practiced smile on her lips, and her body was remarkably well-proportioned. Had they met on the street, he would’ve approached her in a heartbeat. Now, however, he saw nothing but a devil in human skin.
“Jeez, Anat, you gotta drive it home like that?” Leiss chuckled as she approached.
“Who cares?” Laladie chirped. “They sure haven’t done us any favors!”
The man looked about him, only to realize he was surrounded.
He screamed, “Wh-What the fuck are you?!”
“What are we?” Anat chuckled. “You should know that.”
She opened the front of her shirt. Despite himself, the man’s gaze was drawn to her cleavage for a moment—but when he saw the symbol inscribed on her skin, he recoiled in terror.
“We’re Yerkchira, the Messianic Legion—the very dark guild you were sent to destroy!”
Little did he know, every member of the greatest of the dark guilds was there, save for the guildmaster himself.
“F-Fuck this!” he cursed. “How the hell were we supposed to kill you fuckers?!”
They never stood a chance. He and his gray guild were combat experts, and the knights were the most highly trained soldiers in the kingdom, but they couldn’t even scratch Yerkchira. If only they’d known how outmatched they were before leaving town…
“So?” Anat pressed with an angelic smile. “How would you like to die?”
The man squealed in horror as she continued.
“Skewered to death on roots, maybe? Stabbed with countless kunai? Maybe you’d prefer a nice, clean decapitation—or maybe you’d rather have your brain explode? What about being hacked to pieces or being punched to death? Would you like to be ripped to shreds by goblins? Or maybe we can see if one of your friends is still able to stab you? My, you have so many wonderful options!”
The deaths of his comrades flashed through the man’s mind. None of them died easily. Their howls of agony still echoed in his ears. No matter where he looked, all he laid eyes on were the perpetrators of the violence.
“Gh… gwogh…”
Something inside his brain snapped. A wet patch rapidly spread on the front of his pants, and a tart stench hit their noses.
Corine recoiled. “Ugh! He wet himself!”
Schwarte shook her head sadly. “Please don’t speak too ill of him. He seems rather broken.”
“You don’t even care!” Laladie cackled. “Look, Soulgros! There’s some of your precious water! Why don’t you drink it?”
The woman in shinobi attire snapped. “I shall slay thee where you standst, Laladie-dono! Vampille-dono alone hath the composure to handle such a drink!”
“Me?!” Vampille’s eyebrows shot up indignantly. “How dare you even suggest such a thing?! Ritter, Krankheit, Leiss, say something!”
Ritter gave her a blank look. “… What?”
“Who cares?” Krankheit added.
Leiss shrugged. “Sorry, ain’t my problem. Can I go home already?”
They continued to bicker and argue around the man. It was nothing unusual for them—not a one of them cared to follow anyone’s orders, save for those of their master.
Anat nodded. “Yes, I believe we had best all head home. I’d rather not stay around this… individual any longer.”
Anat had the most authority of any of them, and at her suggestion, they turned and began to file back toward Yerkchira’s headquarters.
“Ahahahahahahhahahahaaaa!!” came the man’s dry, maddening laugh from behind them as he continued to soil himself incoherently.
Not a single member of the Dark Guild Subjugation Squad survived. Their campaign ended in catastrophic failure.