บท 361: I Ask, Why Don’t You Just Die?
A flash of cold light streaked through the air.
Blood splattered.
With a swift, fluid motion of her wrist, the silver-haired girl wiped the gleaming blade of her Kusanagi Sword, sending crimson droplets scattering to the ground, blooming like eerie flowers.
Her elegant steps echoed against the stone streets as she walked deeper into the imperial capital, leaving behind a trail of corpses. The bodies of Imperial soldiers lay strewn about, enough to form a small hill. Their blood flowed like a stream, pooling and carrying the thick stench of iron.
These soldiers, once the backbone of the empire's defense, might have been formidable without Imperial Arms, but they had met the wrong opponent. Against Kaguya, they stood no chance. It was like a whirlwind blowing through dry leaves—the battle ended swiftly, the soldiers wiped out before they could even mount a defense.
Kaguya lazily carried her sword, the tip dragging slightly along the cobbled street.
Due to the ongoing war, the capital had transformed. Gone were the bustling scenes of prosperity; in their place was desolation. The wide streets were eerily empty, shops tightly shuttered.
Kaguya sighed, a little disappointed. She had hoped to find a restaurant and grab something to eat. After the battles, though they hadn't drained her energy, her stomach was starting to grumble.
Just then, the distant sound of hooves echoed, soon followed by the synchronized clanking of armor and the heavy tread of marching boots.
In moments, a large detachment of Imperial soldiers turned the corner, swiftly surrounding Kaguya. Their towering forms, encased in thick armor, made them look imposing, and their gleaming swords were at the ready. Through the slits in their helmets, a red light glinted, exuding a menacing aura.
Kaguya's brows furrowed slightly.
She recognized these soldiers—they were not ordinary.
Before she could ponder further, the soldiers lunged at her like arrows released from taut bows.
Meanwhile, on the western side of the capital, beneath a bright spring sky where flowers blossomed and the earth was warming, a woman and a young girl stood quietly in a graveyard. The woman, her figure tall and graceful, placed a bouquet of white lilies before a tombstone. Her features were delicate, her figure curvaceous, with a chest that emphasized her maturity. Beside her, a small girl—no older than ten—stood with her, her hand clasping the woman's tightly.
The little girl had a beautiful face, fair skin, and large, tear-filled eyes. Her lips quivered as she tried not to cry.
"Mom, is Daddy... dead?" the girl asked between sobs, pulling at the woman's hand.
"No, sweetheart," the woman replied softly, kneeling to meet her daughter's eyes. "He's just gone somewhere far away."
"Where is he?" the girl asked, her eyes filled with hope.
"A place called Heaven," the woman said gently. "But don't worry, he's always watching over us from up there."
"Can we go see him?" the little girl asked, her voice filled with innocence.
"No, it's too far away," the woman sighed, stroking her daughter's hair. "But one day, we'll see him again."
"Really?" the girl's eyes sparkled with renewed hope.
"Of course," the woman smiled faintly, trying to hold back her own tears. "We'll see him again."
"Actually, you'll be seeing him much sooner than you think," a mocking voice suddenly cut through the air.
"Who's there?" The woman quickly stood, pulling the girl behind her in a protective stance.
From the shadow of the nearby trees emerged a tall man, his body covered in scars, a star-shaped mark on his face. His long hair was tied in a braid, and his bronzed skin glistened under the sunlight. Shirtless except for a vest, his muscular chest was fully exposed. He was none other than Syura, son of the Prime Minister.
"Who I am doesn't matter," Syura grinned, his sharp eyes roving over the woman's body with obvious intent. "What matters is that you make me happy. Then, maybe I'll send you to see your loved ones sooner."
Fear drained the color from the woman's face. She took a step back, pulling the girl closer.
The young girl, however, stepped out from behind her mother, her voice trembling but hopeful. "Can you really take me to see my father?"
"Of course," Syura's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with malice. "I'll make sure you meet him."
"Logue!" The woman grabbed her daughter's arm and pulled her back. Her voice quivered as she spoke, "You're the son of the Prime Minister, Syura, aren't you?"
"Oh?" Syura's eyes flickered with surprise. Then he chuckled. "Didn't think you'd recognize me."
"I'm Kije, the wife of Bolus. He was a commander in the Imperial Army. I beg you, for his sake, please let us go," the woman pleaded, her voice trembling with desperation. She had clearly heard of Syura's violent and depraved reputation.
"Bols?" Syura sneered, laughing heartily. "What does that have to do with me? If you think that will save you, you're more naive than I thought."
He stepped forward, his grin widening. "But if you're willing to entertain me... maybe, just maybe, I'll spare you and your little girl. Otherwise, who knows? She might end up in a military camp, serving as a slave."
At this, the woman paled even further, her body trembling as if the very ground beneath her had given way.
"Well, what's it going to be?" Syura's gaze lingered on the woman like a predator watching its prey, enjoying her torment. The twisted pleasure of control surged within him.
The woman stood there, her face a mask of anguish. She bit her lip, clearly on the verge of making a decision. But before she could act, a soft, lilting voice echoed from nearby.
"After all this time, you still haven't learned, have you? I told you before... why don't you just die already?"
Syura's pupils shrank as his face turned ashen. His lust extinguished in an instant, cold sweat pouring down his back as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped on him.
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