Chapter 44: Charlotte and the Devilish Noblewoman

The world changed.

It wasn’t that her entrance was dramatic, nor that the performance was especially impressive.

The air, built up by my furious shouting until just now, froze over as if a blizzard had swept through.

Cold. No—that wasn’t it. The blood was simply draining from my body.

Why was her figure, standing there like a doll, so terrifying even though I didn’t even know the details about her?

She drew back one foot slightly and displayed a graceful bow.

Even a man as unrefined as me could only find it beautiful. There wasn’t the slightest hint of hostility in the gesture.

And yet, why did I feel such fear?

"I hail from the Northern Kingdom. My name is Rosalind Laudinal. Commonly referred to as… the ‘Devilish Noblewoman.’"

She smiled—or at least, it felt that way.

A compulsion to kneel seized me at once. The pressure was as though a giant’s palm was pressing down on me from above.

Instinct screamed at me: Do not oppose her.

A monster? I had thought that was just an exaggeration. But no.

Even I could tell—she was truly a monster.

"What a splendid performance. I found it most entertaining."

A contrived, almost mocking applause followed.

Clap, clap. The dry sounds echoed across the hall. Nothing else did.

She merely stood there, moving casually, and yet she dominated the entire place.

"Everyone, evacuate this hall! Prioritize getting non-combatants out first!"

The spell was broken by someone’s scream-like command.

Only after a slight delay did people react to the voice and begin to move.

Before an overwhelming predator, they scrambled for the exit, jostling for position, survival instinct eclipsing dignity or pride.

"Oh my. A wise decision, I think. Now then… 『Status Preserve—Feedis』."

A wind blew outward from her as the center. It felt like a transparent membrane spread across the hall.

I could do nothing but watch, vaguely. Reality couldn’t keep up.

What was this? What was I being shown?

"Charlotte-chan! Stay with us! Don’t get swallowed by it!"

"Eh? Ah, yes!"

"That’s a bit more overwhelming than I imagined. Is this that ‘Authority’ they talked about? Well, I sure hope that’s all it is."

Trishel’s shake jolted me back to reality.

That was close. I had been completely overtaken.

"…Thank you. I spaced out there for a bit."

"Charlotte-chan, you’re a non-combatant. Evacuate with the spectators."

…That was best. Even if I stayed, I couldn’t do a thing.

The thought of standing against that monster was terrifying in itself.

If I tried to fight, I’d only be a burden.

My instincts made it clear—she existed on an entirely different plane of life.

"Stalling for time… maybe? Honestly, I kind of want to ask if I can just run away."

"Even you think that, Trishel?"

"Monster doesn’t even cover it. Just from intimidation alone, to put out this much pressure—it’s beyond extreme."

Looking closely, cold sweat was dripping down her forehead.

She, who always carried herself so casually, couldn’t hide her anxiety.

That undeniable truth shattered any attempt to convince myself otherwise.

Slowly, my eyes drifted back to the stage.

There, the battle had already begun.

Adventurers near the stage had drawn their weapons and rushed to face her.

And Riven? He was on his knees a little farther away. Perhaps the earlier blow had left lingering effects.

"My, my, my."

"An intruder! Seize her!"

"A chance to make a name for ourselves!"

Riven had said before that the stage perimeter was manned with only enough strength to stall, since it was so dangerous.

As expected, they seemed intent on using this as an opportunity to build fame.

Surrounding her on stage, the adventurers raised their weapons all at once and charged.

Spotlights glinted across the many blades—and then…

"My apologies, but I have no intention of dealing with insects one by one."

Everything turned red.

It was over in an instant. A black miasma burst from around her, and when it touched them, their skin tore, blood spraying from every pore. It wasn’t just that—their arms bent at impossible angles, bodies breaking in ways that were grotesquely wrong.

As if they had been thrown into the heart of a swirling force.

As if giants had crushed them in their palms.

"…Ha. So that’s the infamous psychic power, huh?"

"These are supposed to be at least mid-tier adventurers, right? And yet…"

"She didn’t even touch them, and they’re already bloodied messes. Guess we’ll need to be ready for the worst."

A metallic clink sounded.

Trishel stood, gripping metal rings strung with cords, glaring up at her on stage.

Apart from where the cords tied in, the rings’ edges were sharp, like blades. Pendulums—wasn’t that what they resembled?

"Since the Black Clan has deigned to appear, it’d only be proper for me, as a fragment of their kin, to welcome them properly."

"Trishel…"

"It’s fine. I won’t die. Reynard may be prioritizing evacuation for now, but he’ll be here soon."

Right—Reynard.

Now that I thought about it, that first desperate shout to flee had been his.

I looked up to the second floor. Among the panicked masses, adventurers were directing people to safety.

On the first floor, almost only adventurers remained—some braving to face her, others fleeing in disgrace.

"Rosalinddddddddd!"

The roar split the earth. Riven.

"Hm? What’s the matter, Ri-kun? You don’t need to shout so loudly; I can hear you just fine."

"I’ll defeat you here and now!"

He pulled himself back from that first devastating blow, steadied his body, and leveled his sword at her.

"Fufu."

She laughed lightly at his resolved declaration.

"Then show me. As always, I shall be right here."

Something slithered from her sleeve. Long… cords? No, a whip. I had heard her weapon was a whip.

She gripped the handle in her right hand and raised it above her head.

"You must have plenty you wish to say. But remember—only those with power have the right to voice their words!"

And so, the battle between the two began.

The difference in reach was overwhelming—Rosalind’s whip was longer than her height, far surpassing a sword.

Even I knew what kind of weapon a whip was. It lashed with speed, the tip breaking the sound barrier to strike with shock. But I’d also heard that, despite its flashy look, it wasn’t supposed to be that destructive…

A sharp crack—

A single dry explosion rang out. What I registered next was the spray of dust and debris.

Rosalind had swung her arm. Along the straight path of her strike, shards exploded where Riven had been standing.

The ground. The chairs that had been set up there. All gouged and shattered by the whip’s tip.

This was a hall that had surely been built to withstand rampaging adventurers. It wasn’t supposed to break so easily. The materials should have been ones gathered from dungeons.

And yet…

Riven had just barely leapt back in time to avoid it.

But what if he had been struck? The chair, its insides laid bare, already answered that question.

If that was all it would’ve done to him, perhaps he would have been lucky.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I had entertained a foolish thought.

That the so-called monster sister adored Riven so much that their meeting wouldn’t amount to much.

Only now did I realize how pathetically naïve that fantasy was. These people, the environment they came from, were beyond me. They existed outside anything I could imagine.

"Next."

With that merciless declaration, another attack was unleashed.

Lines, points—violence dealt in single strokes. Every time the air split with the sound of impact, something in the hall was destroyed.

Upon the spotlighted stage, her whip-wielding figure resembled a conductor. And under her direction, destruction was carried out, one-sided and absolute.

Long-range, one-sided assault. A storm so fierce that one hit would surely crush flesh and shatter bone.

Again and again, the whip struck, too fast to leave even an afterimage, carving death into every place Riven had just stood.

Chasing him, closing in on him, urging him with every strike: "Run faster, I’ll catch you."

After so many repetitions, even I could start to see it.

The whip was long. And that length left her with large openings between each strike.

If he could just get in close, at point-blank range the whip would be useless.

That weapon relied on centrifugal force. At zero distance, it could never unleash that kind of destructive power.

Ah, but Riven knew this already.

He had fought her many times before. He wouldn’t fail to test such an obvious counter.

Still, closing the distance was no easy feat.

Before I realized it, the space between them had grown wide.

They stared at one another, neither moving. The whip, which had raged so furiously before, now rested, held in check.

That must be the very edge of Rosalind’s reach.

He had to get closer—yet had been driven so far away.

And the other adventurers? I looked around for anyone who might aid Riven, but they were either evacuating or watching from afar. After seeing the first wave butchered, no one dared to rush in recklessly.

Help wouldn’t come soon. Not until those who escaped notified the Guild and a counterforce arrived… though whether even that force could join the battle was doubtful.

"You don’t think it’s safe to let your guard down now, do you?"

The whip lashed out in an unexpected direction.

The side of the stage shattered, rubble scattering.

I blinked in confusion, then saw a figure tumbling out of the debris. Trishel.

"So you saw through it, huh? Guess you weren’t about to let me get a free sneak attack in."

"That hair color… You’re one of the White Clan? How rare. I thought they’d gone extinct."

"Sorry to disappoint! I’m tougher than I look—I’ve managed to stick around."

Rosalind’s whip snapped again, swatting down the scattering stones that Trishel had sent her way.

At the same time, something gleamed above her head. One of those bladed rings Trishel had been wielding earlier!

It traced a wide arc and came crashing down toward Rosalind—

"I can see it."

She lifted her left hand above her head and pinched it effortlessly out of the air.

But I had seen the speed it carried! And yet she caught it like it was nothing!?

"Of course, I planned for that much. Burn."

"!?"

The ring flared with light.

Flames burst from it, swelling out to engulf Rosalind’s upper body.

Yes! How about that!?

"What a charming little trick."

"…Figures. Cheap gadgets won’t cut it, huh."

When the fire died down, Rosalind stood there unchanged, as though untouched by flame.

It wasn’t that her black clothes or hair hid it. There was simply not a mark on her. She stood calmly, as though nothing had happened.

The ring slipped free of her fingers, flying back into Trishel’s hand as if drawn to it.

"One lacking resolve. One lacking firepower. Now then… what shall I do?"

She tilted her head lightly, feigning trouble.

The sight was absurd—and drove home how meaningless this whole situation was to her.

No… seriously. What were we supposed to do?

Was there even a chance of victory against this?

"Sorry to keep you waiting. Charlotte—you’re already outside."

As despair loomed over me, a hand clapped my shoulder.

"…Reynard."

"It’s fine. We can win. So just trust us and wait."

He was clad not in his familiar crimson armor, but in equipment I had never seen before.