Chapter 5: Die, You Pathetic Five-Limbed Fool!!!!!

Heres’s face, flushed red with rage, was turning almost black.

“You fcking btch. Don’t think this ends with your tongue.”

He finally gripped the hilt of his sword.

The grating sound of steel leaving its sheath rang sharply in the twilight’s silence.

Just before he fully drew it, a burly mercenary grabbed his arm.

“V-Vice-leader! Hold back! We’re in the village…!”

“Shut up!”

But the other mercenaries murmured uneasily.

Sirin’s provocation had crossed a line, but murder was another matter.

Especially with so many villagers as witnesses.

One mercenary shouted at the innocent onlookers.

“What’re you staring at? Scram! Wanna see blood?”

The terrified villagers stepped back but couldn’t easily leave.

Fear held them, but so did a strange fascination with the crazy beggar girl boldly confronting the violent mercenary.

Sirin smirked at the sight.

“Heres, Heres, you dimwit. Planning to spill blood before the gods on a festival day? Got no god you believe in? Well, if a god gave you that pathetic little thing, you probably don’t care.”

“That fcking crazy btch…!”

Heres’s hand reached for his sword again.

“You idiot, Heres.”

Sirin continued.

“Gonna let your lackeys get divine punishment too? Don’t be stupid and come outside. Out there, the blind gods might ignore whatever sht you pull.”

She glanced at his lower half, adding.

“With that… pitiful… tiny… courage of yours, I wonder if you can manage.”

“If you’re so tough, come to the rooftop.” A timeless taunt, ancient or modern.

Sirin spiced it up a bit.

After speaking, she briefly lowered her crude bread-sack mask, just enough for only Heres to see.

“…!”

Heres swallowed hard.

In that fleeting moment, he saw.

Even in the twilight’s darkness, Sirin’s face seemed to glow on its own.

Pale skin with a faint blush, deep and sharp eyes like a night lake, a sculpted nose, and red lips.

An unreal beauty hard to believe was human.

The power of Charm 180 struck Heres’s rationality in that brief instant.

His eyes, burning with rage, now flickered with a different desire.

Not just murderous intent, but a craving to break and possess that beauty.

“…Fine.”

He growled low.

Sheathing his sword, he nodded.

“Outside the village.”

He shouted threateningly at the villagers.

“Anyone dares follow us, you won’t see tomorrow’s sunrise!”

“Hah!”

At his words, Sirin bolted.

“She’s escaping!”

Heres and the mercenaries quickly chased her.

Sirin glanced back.

Not all were following.

Some stared, then slunk off toward their camp.

She was dumbfounded.

Where are those guys going? Fetching their daddy to catch a beggar girl?

“Stop right there!”

Her thoughts were cut off.

Leading these idiots was one thing, but she’d gotten carried away by the vitality from her stat boost.

The 500% experience gain amplified even simple running, boosting her agility stat in that moment.

In the twilight, her pale neck and black hair swayed.

Heres and the mercenaries followed, entranced.

“Heehee.”

Sirin ran for a while, then stopped with a giggle.

They were outside the village, in an empty clearing.

The sun had nearly vanished beyond the horizon, and the first star faintly twinkled in the sky.

Arms crossed, Sirin smirked at Heres’s group, panting as they approached.

“Oh, too far for you? Heres, your legs are short too, huh?”

“Shut up!”

A low growl escaped Heres’s throat.

Though still at a distance, Sirin’s sharp senses vividly felt his killing intent.

“Good grief.”

She sighed dramatically.

“Short down there, short legs. What to do? Crawling would’ve been faster.”

“You fcking btch…”

“Maybe your arms are short too? A true five-limbed failure. No wonder Mary wasn’t satisfied. Even your fingers must be short… wait.”

Sirin tilted her head, as if realizing something odd.

“Hold on. Mary’s the one providing the service. She’s not the one receiving, she’s giving. So your short limbs shouldn’t matter… but you still hit her…”

Emotions flashed in Sirin’s eyes. Realization. Then pity.

She looked at Heres with sorrow.

“Was it… so small… Mary couldn’t even grab it…?”

“Arghhh!!!!”

No more words were needed.

Heres charged, kicking the ground.

In an instant, his form blurred, leaving only sunken footprints.

This rootless, mishmash world had all sorts of abilities.

Wizards used magic, knights and holy warriors wielded auras.

Some gods even granted blessings if moved by faith—or just on a whim.

Heres had received a “blessing” from the god of staff and winged feet: Swift Steps.

Whether his god was that deity or the patron of fast-footed thieves, it let him move twice as fast as others.

His specialty was thrusting with that accelerated speed.

That skill earned him the vice-leader position despite his trashy character.

His blessed sword shot toward Sirin at a speed hard to follow, aiming to pierce a single point.

Filthy beggar girl.

Even in that accelerated moment, Heres thought of Sirin.

I was gonna kill her, but I’ll be generous and let her off with her tongue.

It’d be a waste to ruin that pretty face.

His sword aimed for her body.

He even had the leisure to choose where to strike.

Stomach? No, a vital hit would be bad. Arm? This crazy girl wouldn’t stop yapping from an arm wound. Alright, thigh.

A stab to the thigh, making her crawl and bleed, would be a sight.

Yes, scare her, then…

His eyes widened.

His sword was aimed at her thigh.

But somehow, it was digging into her side.

Sirin was moving beyond his predictions.

“Ugh…!”

A sharp pain as his sword pierced her side.

The unpleasant sensation of cutting bone and flesh. Normal people would scream and collapse.

But instead of screaming, Sirin gained enlightenment.

Ding!

There’s an old joke about shock and realization: get hit in the head, and you’ll awaken.

An ancient record in the chronicles of fiction tells of a snake-man who desired forbidden incest with his sister.

When he absurdly fell and hit his head, he gained the ability to wield the sacred power of the water goddess.

A bizarre tale, indeed.

But Sirin now knew this ancient weird story wasn’t just a joke or metaphor—it was a plain truth.

Like an old CRT TV flickering to life when struck, the intense physical shock of being stabbed turned something on* in her body.

The system flashed a new message.

[! Coward’s Haven Mode for Super Cowards !]

[Experience Gain +500% Applied!]

[Level Up!]

[Detected Intense Attack! Practice System Activated!]

[You comprehend the principles of martial arts through pain and damage!]

[Through Practice, you grasp the basics of a new technique!]

“Haha, so that’s how it works.”

Sirin laughed.

Pain broke her, and pain enlightened her.

Heres couldn’t understand why she laughed or what her words meant.

Her laugh didn’t last long.

Still impaled, she twisted her body strangely.

Her left hand stretched forward, as if to push him away.

No.

It wasn’t pushing or blocking.

It was measuring something.

A steady arm and fingers precisely aiming at a target.

Her right arm, meanwhile, was pulled back to its limit.

Her elbow sharply bent, her clenched fist near her cheek.

Like a spring enduring extreme tension, her muscles twisted, channeling energy into a single point.

Heres felt a sense of déjà vu.

He’d seen this stance somewhere.

But it wasn’t martial arts or swordplay—something was different.

Yes, like preparing to shoot something…

Before he could grasp the ominous feeling, Sirin’s right arm shot forward like an explosion.

The condensed force was released in a single point.

Like an arrow leaving the bowstring.

[Houyi Sun-Shooting Sword]

A martial art created by the followers of Houyi, the archer god who shot down the sun.

[Tip]

Sirin’s fist became an arrow, piercing Heres’s jaw.