…?
I tilt my head and glance at Aegis. She's still doing her favorite pastime—killing heroes—with bright, childlike glee.
Then I look to Fail. He clamps a hand over his mouth at the scene before us, shoulders trembling. A film of tears glazes his eyes, held in place like water about to spill over a rim.
—They're alike.
Not just the armor and the sword. The red hair, the proud, clean lines of the face.
While I'm still trying to sort that out, Aegis turns toward us, grinning ear to ear, the hero's severed head in one hand and a blood-slick star in the other.
"Priest! Please rest easy," she chirps. "I severed it in a single stroke to make your resurrection work lighter. Look—such a smooth cut on the—"
Like cotton candy melting into water, her smile dissolves.
The head vanishes from her hand. In the same breath, Aegis reaches for the sword at her hip.
"It has been a while, Fail. Is Father in good health?" Her voice is formal, almost gentle.
Fail wipes his tears in one swift motion and answers as if nothing happened. "Yes. Though if he saw you like this, Sister, he would be deeply grieved."
Aegis laughs under her breath. "Grieved? The Commander of the Blood Paladins? Hardly. I can already see him roaring that I'm too soft."
So they are siblings after all. Figures; their vibes kept overlapping in my head. And if Aegis's father is the Knight Order's commander, then I don't need to cozy up to the kid brother at all. I unbend my knees and shake out my hands.
"I can't allow this barbarity to continue," Fail says. "Sister, please—stop." His voice carries a stubborn warmth.
"What are you saying?" Aegis tilts her head. "We're nearly at seven hundred stars—no, I am merely eliminating the heroes who slipped in. Nothing more."
"There are other ways. You're always like this—forceful, stubborn, charging ahead without thinking... You left home without even asking me!"
"You're as kind as ever," she says softly. "And kindness in battle will get you killed."
Aegis exhales, the sound small, and draws her blade in one smooth whisper of steel. Fail follows, sword leaving the scabbard a heartbeat after.
"Have you learned to handle a sword at all?" Aegis asks, almost teasing. "You were all bow, no blade. A knight must master the sword."
"I'm not the man you remember," he replies. "And you're a hero. I won't hold back. I'll pack you in a coffin and carry you to the capital myself!" His voice lands with a hard clang.
Steel collides with steel. The two knights crash together, their strikes too fast for any common eye to track.
Fail throws more blows. I don't know much about fighting, but his form is—well—impressive.
Beauty doesn't matter if nothing lands. Aegis slips through his offense with steps like dance, parries with the blade, or simply leans back so the steel kisses air. Hard to believe that airy grace is wrapped in full plate.
The playfulness of it makes Fail bristle.
"What are you playing at?" he snaps, teeth bared.
"That's my line," Aegis says. "Is this truly your best? Still the same old 'Crybaby Fail,' are we?"
Oof. Aegis-san's taunts cut clean. They catch him right in that soft heart. Not that she's wrong—he was crying a minute ago.
Fail charges, all sharp edges blunted by anger. The precision from before scatters.
And Aegis's trap springs. She slips past his exposed side and ghosts behind him. Her longsword scrapes his armor, throwing sparks.
Fail stumbles to one knee, tipping forward. A fresh gouge scars the white-silver plate.
That decides it. The gap in skill is obvious. Heroes who fight monsters to the death don't lose to half-noble knights who've barely seen real combat.
"To be toppled by such a paltry feint—shameful," Aegis says, voice cool. "Your spirit has always been weak. That is why you—"
Ah, here we go. Aegis-san's sermons run long and sticky.
Why am I even watching a family spat? Ridiculous. I should go.
...Hn?
Down the alley, Gram sprints past. No Rubibel. He's alone.
Right. Rubibel.
I flick a glance back at the dueling pair.
"No," Fail growls, voice cracking. "No—that's not all my power is!"
"What—an awakening?" Aegis murmurs, eyes narrowing.
Great. That'll take a while.
Fine. I'm going.
I leave the bickering siblings to their game and take off after him.
He's fast. Faster than he looks.
He keeps stopping to look around, like he's searching for something. If not for those pauses, he'd have lost me long ago.
Even so, I'm at my limit. My legs are turning to stone—
"Rubibel! What are you doing here?" Gram's voice bounces around the corner ahead.
Good. He found her.
Still, the man's hopeless. Torture cases piling up, a lethal sibling duel roaring down the other passage, and he takes his eyes off the Children? Please. The duel's peaking, too—the air stinks of blood.
Lucky nothing happened to Rubibel. I lean out from the corridor.
My breath stops.
"Ah. Even the Priest..." A small voice.
In a blind alley, Rubibel fidgets, trying to hide in a shadow. What shadow? A lump—some kind of monument? Did we have one here? It's too dark to see. I squint. Maybe it's the westering sun, but her cheeks look oddly red.
No—her cheeks aren't the only thing red. She's soaked in it. Blood everywhere. That corner of the alley looks as if it rained gore.
"U... ugh..."
The 'monument' Rubibel hides behind writhes and lets out a low moan.
Not a monument. A mass of flesh—no, a man, barely alive. The suspicious one from before?
"D-Don't... don't look at me," she whispers.
Rubibel's ears—those small, furred points peeking from the gore—twitch faintly.
Of course she doesn't want to be seen. Anyone would, after what she's done. But her trembling isn't fear of being caught—it's shame.
Strange. Even with a corpse beside her so mutilated that grown men would faint, Rubibel shows no fear. Her blood-soaked body, the dead hero at her feet, the dripping knife in her hand... could I be imagining it all?
"U... uuh... help..."
The lump of flesh still breathes, still clings to consciousness. To hurt someone this badly without killing them takes real skill.
Could Rubibel have done this? If so—then all those other cases... the torturer was her?
"Rubibel's former master was a kind, well-mannered, respected—pervert," Gram says quietly.
His voice is steady, almost too calm. "A masochist who loved being hurt by little girls. Beastkin like her have hunting instincts to begin with. Add in his twisted 'training,' and sometimes Rubibel just can't fight the urge to see blood."
A lolicon masochist? Damn. That's a curse of a kink—so warped it almost loops back to sincerity.
Wait. Gram... he came to the Church after surviving brutal torture himself, didn't he?
I feel a cold disgust crawl up my spine.
"Then... you too, Gram. Did she—"
He only smiles, sorrow tugging at his mouth.
What the hell are you smiling for, you twisted freak. I'll kill you.
"This child isn't evil," he says. "She's a victim. Twisted by a madman's desires. She has nothing to do with the monsters. And... she only killed heroes. Heroes can be revived."
Oh. Well, if it's heroes, then—huh. Wait, is that actually fine? Whatever. Thinking's a pain. I just nod.
"I see. Perhaps there's some truth to what you're saying," I murmur. "Not that our opinions matter."
I extend my hand to Rubibel in a slow, measured gesture.
"Come now. Hand the girl over. The Church will take her. I'll leave her moral education to the Priests—she'll be properly trained at headquarters."
As expected, Gram knocks my hand away.
"No! I can see it in her eyes—those jewel-bright eyes. I won't let you taint them."
"Silence! If you won't hand her over, then..."
The rest of the threat dies on my tongue. I've got no follow-up. I can't beat him anyway.
"I... I'm a real knight..." comes a weak voice.
Oh? That voice. Looks like the sibling quarrel finally wrapped up.
"Ah, just a moment, please," I tell Gram, stepping back around the corner.
Fail staggers into view, eyes empty but body mostly intact. Guess even Aegis-san drew the line at beheading her own brother.
"Fail! Over here!" I call. "We need your help—your strength!"
A faint light flickers back into his eyes. Good. He's not completely broken.
"There's a torturer here," I tell him. "Kill the man lying there."
"K... kill?"
His voice trembles. Don't tell me—he's never killed before?
"It's fine," I say. "There's a first time for everything. Just swing your sword while counting the bloodstains on the wall. Oh, your sword's broken. Got another weapon?"
"M-my... bow."
"Perfect. Get it out. Quickly now. This is why people call you Crybaby Fail."
Something shifts in his gaze. He reaches into the air—and a bow of light forms in his hands. Not metal, not wood—pure magic. He's a magic warrior. The commander's son really is a bundle of talent. Maybe befriending him isn't such a waste after all.
I crouch slightly, grip his arm, and point.
"This way, Sir Knight. Shoot that man dead."
We rush toward Gram. The sooner I get that dangerous little girl out of his hands, the better.
"Hahaha! Gram! Time to surrender, old boy!"
I leap from around the corner with a bright smile, announcing myself politely.
Neither of them looks at me.
"Hurry, Rubibel—climb!" Gram urges.
So they're running. He's boosting her up the wall, trying to escape. Like hell I'll let that happen.
"Now! Shoot him!" I shout.
But no arrow flies.
"What are you doing?" I bark.
"A-ah..."
Something's wrong. I follow Fail's gaze—to the whimpering, ruined flesh heap on the ground. The thing that used to be a hero.
So that's what froze him.
"H... help... me..." it gurgles.
"It's fine," I say lightly. "He's talking, see? Just a hero."
"A—"
Fail sways. His weight shifts back, puppet strings snapping. He nearly falls but catches himself at the last second—his arm jerks, and the arrow looses.
A flash of light tears through the air—off target.
"...Huh?"
It happens in an instant. None of us react in time.
Then—
"N-no... no, no, no!" Gram's scream rips through the alley.
Blood erupts, spattering our faces like rain. A small body crumples, its life scattering into the dusk.
I can't move.
The world drains of color.
The arrow of light has pierced Rubibel's slender throat—and fades away.
Notes:
• Aegis - a female red-haired holy knight in silver armor, harsh to others and herself but shows weakness to Julius, to whom she swore loyalty, leads the Secret Police Squad.
• Fail - a male hero with a tragic past, formerly part of a notorious bandit group, now seeking redemption and a fresh start as a hero.
• Gram - a male thug-like hero who frequently forgets to pay resurrection fees, occasionally snaps and tries to kill Julius, yet kind to children.
• Rubibel - a female beastkin girl and former slave, full of wild energy, plays until the heroes are distressed, part of Gram's party.