Chapter 6: I Need to Cure This Rare Neck-Snapping Disease

Crack!

Sirin’s fist struck Heres’s jaw precisely.

She felt her wrist shatter, but also heard the sound of his neck twisting.

Heres didn’t feel the impact.

The world just went black for a moment.

“…”

Opening his eyes, he instinctively searched for that woman.

The infuriatingly beautiful and irritating woman who was just in front of him.

But she was gone. Nowhere to be seen.

Where’d she go…?

Instead, he saw only his subordinates’ pale faces.

They stood frozen, as if they’d seen a ghost.

What’s with those stupid looks? Why are they staring at me like that?

Those idiots…

Heres was pissed.

You morons, what’s with the dumb faces? That beggar girl ran off! Find her!

Something was wrong.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

How strange.

An unplaceable unease and questions swirled in his mind, but everything grew faint.

His men’s faces, the twilight sky, even his own thoughts.

All faded into black.

“V-Vice-leader…?”

A mercenary called out cautiously.

Heres, somehow showing both his face and back, and behind him, the masked face of the crazy beggar girl.

The mercenaries finally realized what happened.

Her single punch had snapped his neck.

They shouted in horror.

“Heres!”

“Vice-leader!”

Sirin was dumbfounded.

These idiots, swaggering as mercenaries, didn’t even know basic facts.

“You dumb bstards! Get a grip!”

Her sharp voice made them freeze for a moment.

Those stupid faces, only good for bullying kids and old folks.

She wanted to punch each one. The sight of blood had her riled up.

But…

“Gasp…!”

The mercenaries’ terrified faces filled her vision.

Sirin took a deep breath.

These trashy mercenaries might kick old ladies’ stalls, but that wasn’t a death-worthy crime.

Unlike Heres, the would-be child rapist who stabbed her.

So, they deserved different treatment.

Right, everyone has the potential for change.

Educating and reforming these fools was the duty of a civilized person in a barbaric world.

Sirin decided to patiently explain, like a true civilized person.

“I’ll teach you a basic principle about the human body.”

The mercenaries swallowed hard. What was this crazy woman about to say?

“It’s…”

“…?”

“Shockingly, people die when their necks snap!”

She smacked Heres’s head and shouted.

“A snapped neck doesn’t let you see behind you! People die when their necks break! No matter how much you call a dead guy, he won’t answer! You brainless idiots!”

“……!”

Silence. Stillness.

“…W-Witch…!”

Someone muttered.

“Witch! She’s a witch!”

Another screamed, voice tearing.

That word snapped the last thread of their rationality.

“She’s a witch!”

“R-Run!”

Reason collapsed, leaving only survival instinct.

They screamed and bolted back the way they came.

Sirin watched their retreating backs and clicked her tongue.

Reformation failed.

Spreading civilization to barbarians was no easy task.

“Ugh…”

Only then did the pain in her side hit her.

Grimacing, she shoved Heres’s body, still leaning on her, aside.

It hit the ground with a thud.

“Phew…”

She gripped the hilt of Heres’s sword, still lodged in her side, and yanked.

The cold steel scraped through flesh, hot blood gushing out.

The metallic stench stung her nose.

Fcking hell… hurts like sht…

“Baby… put some effort in…”

She was truly like an old TV. Get hit, and the wrong channel comes on.

She tried again.

“Fck. Ing. Hell. It. Hurts.”

Annoyed, she tossed the blood-soaked sword.

Her new clothes were ruined with blood.

Frowning, she checked her wound.

Thanks to the mode’s auto-recovery, it was healing fast, but the pain lingered.

“Damn jerk. Could’ve stabbed lighter.”

She looked down at Heres’s still-warm corpse.

Its grotesque pose, head turned backward, was oddly pleasing.

Better to see the back of his head than his ugly face.

Tch, tch. Should’ve walked around like this from the start.

If you’d only shown your scalp, Mary might’ve been more patient with your service…

Looking at his head, she thought.

He was trash, but still a mercenary who hunted beasts on the frontier.

And he’d given her the valuable “Practice” enlightenment.

She decided to show some respect.

Awkwardly clasping her hands, she muttered.

“Namu Amida Butsu… What, your name’s Heres? Hope you’re born with something longer next time. Maybe fix your personality too. Don’t go to paradise.”

After her half-hearted prayer, she summoned the system window.

The messages from the fight needed a second look.

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

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

[Technique: Houyi Sun-Shooting Sword – Tip Acquired!]

[Houyi Sun-Shooting Sword]

[A technique of the Diancang, embodying the principle of piercing the sun.]

“Tip, huh…”

Looking at the last message, she slowly clenched and unclenched her right hand.

The pain lingered, but her broken wrist was already somewhat movable.

Closing her eyes, she recalled the movement.

A technique gained through “Practice.” Her body remembered the sensation.

Measuring distance with her left hand, pulling her right arm to the limit to condense power.

Twisting muscles and joints to shoot force at one point.

The sharp “Tip.”

The result wasn’t just a punch’s destructive power.

But a sun-shooting sword? What a grandiose name.

The system’s message bugged her.

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

“Hmm…”

It called it the basics of a martial art.

So, this Sun-Shooting Sword wasn’t fully acquired? Was “Tip” just a foundational skill?

Her thoughts were cut short.

“You, unidentified woman! Stand back!”

Urgent shouts and torchlights approached from the village.

Turning, Sirin saw Marta, pale-faced, running with a group of uniformed men.

The empire’s peacekeeping force.

“Get back!”

Sirin recognized the shouting face.

Roderick, the local peacekeeping captain.

Finally crawling out, huh?

Public authority was slow, modern or isekai.

As Sirin stepped back silently, a peacekeeper approached with a torch. He gasped at Heres.

“D-Dead…!”

Roderick gritted his teeth.

A bloodied sword, the village beggar girl, and the mercenary vice-leader’s corpse with a twisted neck.

The bloody sword was clearly Heres’s.

Bloodstains spread from the girl’s abdomen.

Yet Heres was the one dead.

The situation seemed clear but absurd.

Did Heres stab her? And she… killed him? Alone? How?

Questions flooded Roderick’s mind, but securing the suspect came first.

“Don’t move. You’re under arrest as a suspect in a murder.”

“Hah!”

Sirin burst into laughter, as if she’d heard a great joke.

Her eyes, lit by torchlight, were playful yet chilling.

“Captain, so hasty. Calling me a suspect already? Did you see me kill him? The empire’s peacekeeping force sure has sharp eyes. If only your feet were as fast—oh, my bad.”

“…”

Roderick was hit with two shocks.

First, the crazy beggar girl who only cursed was speaking coherently.

Second, her words carried weight.

He caught her implication.

If the peacekeepers had intervened sooner, no one’s neck would’ve snapped.

Or rather, if they’d done their job, the villagers wouldn’t have been threatened by rowdy mercenaries in the first place.

Not just a crazy beggar girl.

Did she have some curse that got lifted? Why’s someone like that in this backwater…

Unaware of Roderick’s thoughts, Sirin just grinned.

“Of course, it’s unfortunate this mercenary gentleman met an untimely end, but accusing a poor, powerless beggar girl of murder is a bit much, no? Does it make sense that a weakling like me could beat a strong mercenary barehanded?”

She nudged Heres’s corpse with her toe and continued.

“Who knows? Maybe he caught a rare neck-snapping disease while walking. The possibilities are endless, right?”

“…”

Roderick glared at her.

Utter nonsense.

But provoking a dangerous figure who might’ve barehandedly killed a mercenary vice-leader wasn’t wise.

Especially if she wielded some curse.

He compromised.

“…You’ll be investigated as a witness to this death. Cooperate.”

Sirin gave a sly smile.