CHAPTER 5 WARRIORS OF EVIL

Taking a corner table by the window, I ordered a large slice of fruit pie, a whole pot of decent coffee, and a bit of good brandy from the somewhat lethargic waiter. When the order arrived, I took a sip from the glass first, ignoring the disapproving look.

I wasn't afraid to drink. To feel anything more than mild euphoria, I would probably have to drink a whole bottle, and even then, the intoxication wouldn't last very long.

A burning lump traveled down my esophagus and burst into a pleasant warmth in my stomach. I squinted approvingly, savoring the soft aftertaste. I poured the remaining amber liquid into the next cup of coffee, sweetened it, and began to sip the resulting drink while enjoying the delicious pie.

I devoured the first serving quickly, ordering a couple more. Leaning back in my chair, I looked around the empty hotel restaurant, bathed in light, with maritime paintings on the walls, clean white tablecloths, and attentive service. And the food was delicious. Not a bad place. My mood had significantly improved to match the surroundings. Maybe the life of an Imperial assassin wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, but it was far, far better than being in the Darkness. And existing as an undercooked invalid wasn't much of an improvement either.

Good!

"If you want to make a person happy, take everything from them, and then give back half," Lenin (or whoever it was among the revolutionaries who said that) was absolutely right!

When the extra dish arrived, I leisurely savored every bite, continuing my meal. The hotel restaurant gradually filled with early birds who had come for breakfast and a morning cup of coffee. Or get drunk.. I spotted the dark chestnut mane and tousled wedge-shaped beard of yesterday's barfly.

Does he ever sleep?

After a while, I saw Natal's blond head with the glaive's tip peeking out from behind her shoulder, covered by a sheath, like a scabbard. I smiled at my friend and waved him over.

"Good morning, Kurome," he said, leaning his weapon against the wall and sitting down across from me. "I was going to wake you up; I thought you were still asleep."

"And a good morning to you," I replied thoughtfully, staring at my empty plate and contemplating whether to order another serving. "I hope you didn't let Keyu pick the lock?" Our comrade enjoyed attempting to pick locks but was no good at it. Usually, it ended with a jammed mechanism and a broken door.

"Ha-ha! No, he said if you weren't opening up, you'd surely gone down for breakfast," Natal laughed.

"Where are they with Akira, by the way?" I asked, concluding that there was still plenty of room in my stomach and scanning the room for the waiter.

"They're waking Baib, as you know, he sleeps like a log."

"Hey, waiter!" I called, finally spotting the elusive server, and repeated my order for more pie.

"And what about you, sir? Would you like to order anything?" he inquired.

"I recommend the fruit pie," I suggested, "it's quite delicious. I'm afraid if you don't hurry, I'll devour the whole thing."

"Then I'll have a slice of pie and some tea. It would be a shame not to try it," the blond man smiled.

"You don't need to worry," I replied obligingly, mirroring his smile, "there's plenty of pie left."

"I just trust your judgment, Kurome. You and your sister are natural connoisseurs of delicious food!" my friend laughed cheerfully.

"Oh, yes," I confirmed with exaggerated seriousness, "mass genocide of edibles is our calling. So bring the extra serving quickly, or I might just eat you," I snapped my teeth playfully, adding a hint of "bloodthirstiness" to my tone, just for the sake of a joke.

It came out a bit stronger than intended, and the retreating server looked terrified. Odd. I had no real desire to kill the waiter, and without a doubt, he should have felt nothing more than a slight shiver. Was he a bit of a coward?

Natal's smile faded, and his face took on a guilty expression.

"Sorry, Kurome, I didn't mean to upset you. You seemed to be in such a good mood today, and I completely forgot about... Akame's actions."

Though Natal had wrongly taken my poorly executed a joke with KI personally, he shouldn't have reminded me about my sister's escape. My bright mood had once again turned somber. While I now understood her motives, I couldn't help but feel emotionally abandoned and, to be honest, angry.

"It's nothing," I said, absently twirling the dessert knife between my fingers. "Between you and me, maybe it's not such a bad thing that my sister ran away. She started asking too many dangerous questions—too loudly and in front of the wrong people," I continued, catching Natal's surprised gaze. "Too dangerous, too loud, and not in the right company. It's a shame she switched sides, but at least she's alive and well."

"Maybe you're right, but..." Natal lowered his eyes.

"But now she's become our enemy too, and we might have to face her in mortal combat," those words went unspoken but were heard nevertheless.

"If that was supposed to be comforting, it wasn't," I thought irritably but didn't say it out loud. There was no need to upset a good person who, though clumsily, was genuinely trying to help, especially when he had his own emotional wounds to bear.

I looked at the young man who, if this were happening on Earth, would still be in high school. I remembered that, according to the manga, he would only survive as an undead marionette of my Teigu. I could vividly imagine the scenario that might lead to that outcome. Would I be able to let go of someone as close as a sister if she were mortally wounded? Especially now, when the marionette could become almost lifelike?

Not wanting to contemplate such a possibility, I vowed to myself not to let it happen.

We fell silent for a moment.

It seemed to me that Natal had reacted quite calmly to my somewhat rebellious words. If I had said something similar to another member of the Squad, they would have responded with an angry speech about the "Imperial traitor" and wouldn't have spared the Elite Seven either. Most of them had strong loyalty to the cause, and the Elite Seven wasn't particularly well-liked even before what happened.

Could it be because Natal and I had been part of the Elite Group for some time? Or perhaps he didn't want to upset me with words about my sister?

"No, definitely not," I dismissed the latter thought. I knew Natal too well not to be able to read his true emotions. He was still angry at Akame... yes, he was angry, but he didn't hate her as a traitor! He didn't even attempt to express something like, "The Empire above all!" Throughout our time in the Elite Seven, he never said anything like that. So, his loyalty to the Empire might not be as strong as one would think.

Perhaps I could sway him to my side.

The prospect of making a friend into an ally and freeing him from the stimulants sounded very tempting and lifted my spirits. It would be nice to persuade Natal later to stage his own death and help me outside the Squad. Then his fate, as described in the manga, would truly become unrealized. But I had to be cautious about this: words were one thing, and actions that would undoubtedly be seen as betrayal were something else.

Although, in my opinion, preventing the downfall of the country and purging its corrupt elite could certainly be considered heroic. If we won, we would be hailed as heroes, true Defenders of the Empire!

"But if the leader of the rebels wins, they'll call him a hero," a cynical thought crossed my mind.

History was written by the victors. It didn't matter if the self-proclaimed "hero" had horns, a tail, and smelled like sulfur. He would go down in textbooks as a being with shining wings and a halo above his head.

Well, at least until a new faction came to power and rewrote the past to suit its agenda.

When our orders arrived, I was drawn back from my thoughts and resumed chewing.

"It really is delicious," Natal praised the creation of the local chefs.

"Eat up, don't get distracted, or else the others will come down and finish this target without us. The burial..." I imitated Akame's voice, saying her trigger word for switching to combat mode. For a few moments, I transformed my face into an emotionless mask, casting a cold gaze over the "target," and then swiftly began to destroy it at triple speed.

"Haha!" Natal burst into laughter. "Very convincing! I'm glad you're back to your usual self, Kurome!"

* * *

Soon, I noticed the rest of the "gang" coming down the stairs. They were dressed like Natal and me, in uniform black attire with occasional red accents. The female version of the uniform differed slightly from the male one. Instead of a jacket, shirt, and trousers, the girls were supposed to wear a short-sleeved blouse and a skirt above the knees, with a short crimson tie around their necks. However, both Akira and I opted for trousers at the moment. After all, a skirt wasn't the most practical attire for traveling, especially when riding might be involved.

The uniform also included (currently absent) red wristbands and thigh guards.

The uniform for the Assassin Squad had been introduced back in the days when Natal, Gin (who had sadly died since then), and I had just joined the Elite Seven, which was unaffected by this change. Whether it was back then or now, this decision seemed rather questionable. True, our attire didn't attract much attention, as it resembled a typical student uniform and conformed to the prevailing youth fashion. But wasn't it foolish to make assassins wear a recognizable uniform?

Or was it simply a way to embezzle some of the budget?

Our clothing was incredibly durable, capable of stopping a handgun bullet, resistant to fire, barely prone to getting dirty, non-absorbent, and odor-resistant... in short, it was a product of advanced technology. And technological products were unreasonably expensive. I doubted that the "caring" leadership had spent a fortune on the comfort of their charges; rather, they had pocketed a generous kickback.

How could a technologically advanced industry exist in a world where pack animals were still the primary means of transportation? The answer was simple: remnants of past grandeur. Ages ago, the Empire had been a fairly advanced technomagical civilization, but since then, it had been steadily declining, losing ground bit by bit. Yet, even in its current state, it remained the continent's leader. None of its neighbors fared any better. Only the Western State was renowned for its alchemists and chimerologists, giving the Empire some competition in a few narrow fields.

Nobody was bothered by the mismatch between the barefooted peasant with a beaten iron plow and the guards with energy barriers that could be raised around the Imperial Palace.

And nobody had any intention of rectifying the situation. Everyone was content. The oldest and most influential aristocratic families had preserved some production chains and technologies, but they were in no hurry to share them, preferring to profit from trade.

And zealously guarding their monopoly.

Sometimes it felt like I was in a post-apocalyptic Earth. The language, a mix of distorted English and Japanese, familiar religions like Christianity or Shintoism, and many other elements inclined me toward this view. If it weren't for the shape of the continent, the monsters, some of which could be called "beast gods," the different pattern of the starry sky, and the lunar craters, I might have been more inclined to believe it.

Perhaps this world was a decaying colony of Earth's humanity, one that had somehow found a path to other worlds or dimensions. However, these were only speculations.

What the reality was remained a matter of conjecture.

"I told you, if you want to find Kurome-chi, you need to look in the cafeteria!" the cheerful dark - haired guy with a katana and a wakizashi on his belt declared. Our chief enthusiast of banter and humor stood about a head taller than me, or about twelve centimeters shorter than Natal. "If she's not training or sleeping, she's definitely eating!"

"I'm a young, growing organism, I need to eat well and a lot," I said in defense.

"Young but not growing!" Kei hit where it hurt.

"I'm growing in combat skills. And if someone here doesn't keep their tongue in check, they might feel that growth firsthand."

"No!" feigned horror, this jester covered himself with his hands. "Not training again, anything but that! This humble servant begs the magnificent and gracious lady to forgive his foolishness and verbosity," Kei Lee bowed deeply.

Before I joined the Elite Group, Kei Lee used to conduct himself more seriously, refraining from playing the clown. I must admit, in the past, when he hadn't yet developed a penchant for teasing and getting on people's nerves, he appealed to me more, despite his vanity. Or perhaps he was less annoying.

Though it was worth admitting: at times, he was genuinely amusing.

Kei Lee's love for banter and humor had grown after a failed mission where his squad had cooperated with the city guards, who had greatly let them down due to their mistakes. In the end, they completed the task, but only Kei and Akira had survived from Kei's team. That event had left an unusual mark on the guy's character. All in all, it wasn't the worst outcome if you thought about it. Humor was one of the ways to cope with inner demons. But Kei's brakes didn't always work; that was the issue.

At the same time, Bayb, tall and broad-shouldered, with a buzz cut, paid no attention to the performance and greeted the gathered group with a nod before sitting down at the table and placing his two-handed sword next to him.

"Kei, you empty-headed fool, stop clowning around!" the displeased redhead with shoulder-length hair and dark green eyes hissed. She had a katana hanging in dark scabbards on her belt, and her blouse pleasantly outlined her chest of about a size two. "Can't you see we're already drawing attention?" she tried to summon her companion to order in a loud, hissing whisper.

"Let them watch; I don't care," he replied without straightening up. "Especially if there are cute girls among them!" he added, receiving a slap from his friend right away.

"Then you don't have to try if you're not attracted to older women," Natal teased, noticing that among the other customers, you could consider only a monumental-looking matron around fifty years old as "cute girls."

"Really?" Kei began to look around from his bent-over position. "Oh, well! I won't straighten up anyway until Kurome-chi forgives me!"

"Fine, peasant," I said with a haughty grimace, deciding to join the game. "My majesty forgives you. If you try your best, when my legions of the undead conquer this world, I'll appoint you as the court jester."

"Merciful lady, your offer is incredibly generous, but this humble servant fears he won't live to see the glorious moment of your triumph, dying of old age," Kei remarked, finally straightening up, with a hint of mischief in his voice.

"Never mind, in that case, you can serve me even after death," I smiled and caressed the hilt of Yatsufusa.

"Ahem, you're not serious, Kurome-chi, are you? I'm a good guy, you know! You don't want to deprive your beloved friend and comrade of life, do you?" Kei joked.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Of course," I gave a bloodthirsty smile.

"Alright, alright, I get it! No more jokes about your height," Kei mimed locking his mouth shut and throwing away the key.

"Enough chatter. At the table, we should eat," Bayb interjected.

***

"I heard the servants talking about some spirit or demon that killed the rich man living across the street last night," Akira began the dinner conversation.

"Found someone to listen to, huh?" Kei Lee replied disdainfully. "They'll spin you a yarn and then some. And in a couple of days, there'll be eyewitnesses who 'saw everything with their own eyes'," the brunette sneered sarcastically.

"I don't know... They say nobody entered the house, and its owner died by himself. Out of fear. It's a shady business," the girl commented, shrugging her shoulders.

"Pff! Who's saying that? The guards? They couldn't even notice a spear up their behinds, let alone a killer!" the guy scoffed, unimpressed.

"Many say they heard a terrifying laugh in the middle of the night," Natal added, his interest minimal.

"So what? Some vagabond gorged on magic mushrooms and that's the whole mystery."

Mentally applauding Kei, I kept quiet and filled my stomach, hoping the others would find a better topic.

"...And I'm telling you, it wasn't a ghost!" a drunken voice reached us. "Dead wife... dead shit! It was a demon! A real demon! I saw it with my own eyes! Damn me if I'm lying!"

Having finished my plate, I looked up and, as expected, saw a bearded alcoholic who had not only gotten drunk again but had also managed to find himself a drinking buddy in the form of a well-dressed man in his sixties.

"May nightmares torment you, and may a squirrel visit you!" I thought, mentally cursing the man.

"Oh! What did I tell you?" Kei commented, distracted from his food. "Eyewitnesses are already showing up! What do you think of this witness, Torch? Does he seem trustworthy to you?" the guy chuckled.

"Go to hell!" the girl turned away.

Meanwhile, the man, leaning on his glass again, continued his "completely reliable" story.

"A real fright! Claws, I tell you! Fangs, I tell you! Horns sticking out of the head, and a human spine in its hands, with a skull! Got it?! And you say it's a dead woman..."

"And you, Kurome, what are you thinking about? Or has Bayb infected you with the silent virus?" Kei pulled me out of my reverie.

"I wish he'd infected you instead, you idiot," grumbled the displeased Akira.

"Oh, nothing, just remembered a lullaby for the likes of him," I nodded toward the drunkard pouring another bottle into glasses. "So they can sleep at night, and if not, still be afraid to stick their noses out."

"Oh! Kurome-chi knows a lullaby, and such an interesting one. Maybe you should sing it?" Kei was suddenly interested. "What if you have a talent?"

"Why not," a crooked smile crawled onto my lips on its own.

A melodic voice, rather beautiful but somehow sending shivers down the spine, began to echo through the restaurant.

"Ti-li-ti-li-bom,

Close your eyes quickly...

Someone's walking outside

And knocking on the doors..."

I sang, trying to imitate the voice of the original singer I had heard on Earth. Fortunately, the lyrics were not too complicated to translate, and my current body's delicate voice suited this song quite well.

"Ti-li-ti-li-bom,

A night bird is crying.

He's already sneaked into the house

To those who can't sleep..."

In the second verse, I decided to release some Ki to create a better atmosphere – it was a great idea.

"He's coming, he's already

Close!"

Akira shuddered slightly, the bearded drinker dropped his wine glass.

"Ti-li-ti-li-bom*..."

"So, how was it? It seemed to turn out pretty well," I finished and asked in the prevailing silence.

"Such a lullaby should be sung to enemies," Natal shook his head. "And why scare people with Ki?"

After inspecting the pale visitors of the restaurant and the bearded guy who was now clutching his left side, and his drinking companion, the idea no longer seemed so brilliant. Fortunately, there were no takers among the present to interact with graduates of one of the Battle Temples (that's what our "legend" was), otherwise, judging by the looks we were getting, we'd have been yelled at.

"I thought it would turn out better. Maybe I overdid it a bit."

"You know, friend, if I ever have kids, remind me never to ask you to sing them to sleep," Akira nervously chuckled.

"What incredible optimism!" Even if we forget that retirement is the last thing on our minds, after the "Made by Doctor Stylish" mixture they gave to all girls who reached sexual maturity, I doubted that conception was even possible. Commanding officers not only covered their bases against their charges going on maternity leave but also spared them from monthly discomfort.

Optimization, indeed.

"I like it!" Kei Li applauded. "When we get back, you'll sing it to the others, okay?"

"I won't listen to that horror ever again!" the redhead declared. "And you, Kurome... I didn't expect this from you at all. Well, except from this halfwit," Akira poked the guy who had dramatically recoiled with her elbow. "Dealing with him is useless by now. But why are you repeating it? Where did you even dig up this nightmare?"

"Oh dear, little scaredy-cat Akira-chan is afraid of scary stories about demons and ghosts?" Kei laughed mockingly.

"I'm not scared of anything, you idiot! Get off me – go, pester Bayb!" She nodded toward the calm guy sipping tea.

"I prefer pestering you," Kei Li embraced her.

"You jerk," the redhead muttered. "And why do I tolerate you, such a scoundrel?"

"Because I'm a handsome guy with a great sense of humor?" the brunette smirked self-assuredly.

"Psh, you pathetic clown!"

"Well," he scratched his head, feigning thoughtfulness, "that means you're a pervert!"

"You little...!" Blushing with embarrassment, Akira grabbed Kei Li by the throat and began to shake him amidst our laughter.

"That's how it always goes," I chuckled at our pair. The banter between the redhead and the brunette was like our group's TV.

Leaving the money for our meal on the table, I headed outside.

* * *

The sun had already risen behind the hotel's doors, casting its light on the few clouds and painting the walls of the buildings in shades of yellow and orange. The air was refreshingly crisp, though the scent of horse manure tainted it.

"Environmentally friendly transportation, huh?" I cast a glance at a couple of horses cheerfully clattering their horseshoes on the cobblestone streets as they pulled a carriage.

Reaching a small cul-de-sac covered with bushes from the street, I drew Yatsufusa from its sheath and summoned my minion.

The man who appeared remained indifferent, gazing straight ahead.

"Wake up!" I said, focusing on my desire to awaken his consciousness and trying to fully experience the artifact's workings. Who knows, maybe I'll become a proper necromancer instead of just being an appendage to the Teigu like I am now? After all, fanatics from the temple-tomb managed to mimic Lionel's Teigu power and turn into werewolves. I grimaced, remembering the dark-skinned perverts, especially their leader, who, when our team was captured, tried to convince me to become his wife. Thanks to Akame and the rest of the Seven for sending that creep on a date with the demons before he could escalate from persuasion to action.

"I hate southerners!"

"What?" Kent asked as he finally regained consciousness.

"That's not for you," I instructed the minion again and then waited a couple of minutes before leaving the corner.

* * *

Coming around the corner, I headed towards the bench. While the minion was out shopping, I decided not to waste time and work on my spiritual perception. The better my ability to sense energy within and outside of myself, the higher the chance of learning something new or improving existing skills.

Getting comfortable, I closed my eyes and, regulating my breathing, began to enter a meditative state, concentrating on memories of how I perceived the world as a spirit. After a few minutes, emotions receded into the background, and my senses of hearing, smell, and touch disappeared. In their place, the sensation of flowing inner energy became exceptionally vivid. On the outskirts of my perception, a few distant spiritual auras faintly flickered – the nearest people.

Honestly, I didn't expect this endeavor to be successful. If anything, I was almost certain that I wouldn't be able to reproduce such an unusual ability using the meditative trance I had practiced in my past life. The sudden surprise and joy almost shattered my concentration.

Refocusing on myself, I realized that the spiritual power I sensed, like a breeze flowing through my body, originated from faintly perceived spiritual shells. Then, as it passed through my body, this spiritual power somehow interacted with the life energy it produced. The result was what spirit warriors used for their own acceleration, strengthening, and amplification. This process was perceived as a breeze blowing from within.

"Interesting," I thought abstractly; this way of perception resembled direct cognition more than ordinary sight. I focused on my sword and its connection with the undead. "Yatsufusa also has its own spiritual energy, which it exchanges with me. Does it also have a soul?" With this curious thought at the back of my mind, I concentrated on the connection between the Teigu and the minion.

Unfortunately, no breakthroughs in understanding the mechanics of the imaginary thread of connection came to me. Strictly speaking, there was no actual "thread" in ordinary space. There was a complex-to-describe resonance, merely called a thread or channel for convenience. I could sense its presence and feel the energy going toward maintaining the undead's active existence in reality, but that was it. I couldn't learn what was happening with it or issue orders through the connection without seeing the puppet.

I couldn't even sense the inactive dolls in my spatial pocket.

Realizing that there wouldn't be any more insights, I focused on what I could sense best: my own spiritual energy flowing toward the Teigu and then further, toward the undead currently out of sight. I also noticed that after awakening his consciousness, the sentient undead required significantly less energy for its maintenance. Surprisingly, the energy consumption dropped even lower than it did for the "dummy" after it stopped resisting and agreed to serve. Additionally, the mental strain, which typically accompanied the active functioning of any puppet, was practically absent.

This was a valuable observation with great potential.

With extra effort, I managed to locate the point where the energy was being drained from me. That point was currently occupied by the bald man who had gone shopping. However, I couldn't pinpoint his precise location in three-dimensional space; I could only sense the direction. This problem was compounded by the fact that I couldn't see the material world; I could only perceive spiritual lights. Nevertheless, with some practice, I might learn to determine direction and distance based on a "hot/cold" principle.

But my further exploration of the Teigu and my new abilities was interrupted by a sense of being watched. The attention directed towards me didn't carry aggression or other negative intentions; it was focused on me as if its owner wanted something from me. Intrigued, I tried to trace the source, and I felt a faint, slowly approaching presence.

Returning to normal perception of the world didn't feel pleasant at all. The sudden bright light sliced through my eyes like a razor, causing me to squint and tearing up. It felt like several hot needles pierced my temples and nose, while my vestibular system rewarded me with a feeling of disorientation. If I weren't sitting down, I might have collapsed embarrassingly. I still replied with my usual calmness when a passerby asked if I was okay.

"All things considered, we were trained pretty well," I thought, even though I remembered my past life. The ingrained fear of showing weakness and being disposed of didn't just disappear.

Gradually, the dizziness subsided, and the headache turned into a dull ache. And the "bonus" turned out to have a catch. Not only was such sensory perception impractical in a combat situation, but it could also lead to exhaustion or even a brain hemorrhage if I overused it. What was doubly unpleasant was that, while in the trance, I wouldn't realize if something bad happened to my body until it was too late.

I sighed in annoyance. A dangerous skill indeed.

But it would be strange to expect otherwise. I had never been a favorite of fortune in either of my lives. Well, in any case, I had to play the cards I was dealt. Slowly but surely, I would need to prepare a few aces up my sleeve. As the saying goes, "Don't wait for favors from fate; our task is to take them!"

Soon, the former rebel appeared on the road. After my minion disappeared from sight, I telepathically ordered Yatsufusa to return the puppet to its spatial pocket. It was time to head back.

---

The restaurant was nearly empty when I returned. Those who remained silently occupied tables as far away from where Group A was seated as possible. Turning to the group, I saw an infuriated Akira, a grinning Kei, and a stern Natal. Baeb, meanwhile, continued to relax, spinning a cup in his hands.

"What happened with you guys? Did our 'great sense of humor' finally drive Akira mad, and she tried to kill him for real?" I asked, raising my eyebrow.

"Nothing like that! I enjoy a good joke, but I can clearly see the line and have no intention of crossing it," replied the character in question, raising a pointed finger toward the ceiling. "So Akira-chi found a better target for herself."

If you removed the jokes, the inebriated man had found nothing better to do than target Akira, who had asked him and his drinking buddy to go back to their room. The deeply offended drunk had immediately resorted to insults.

"A suicide mission. If you want to infuriate a redhead, there's no more reliable way than comparing her to a prostitute," I thought, scanning the room for a corpse or signs of blood.

Akira had lived with her prostitute mother in a waterfront brothel until she was six, before she, like us, was bought by the Imperial Spy Agency. There was no class of people she despised more than sex workers. She also didn't have much love for drunks, possibly for the same reason.

"We managed to prevent any bloodshed," Natal replied, casting a stern look at the culprit.

"Haha! You should have seen the idiot's face when Natal blocked our Firefly's sword right in front of his throat," chuckled Kei Lee. "And how he fell on his butt and started backing away from her, hahaha! You had to see it! A real artist!"

"Stop! If this degenerate was sitting two tables away from you, how did he end up within striking distance?"

"He came here on his own. Started swearing at us. So I couldn't take it anymore," the girl added, half-whispering, hiding her face behind her hair.

"Idiots are immortal," I mused, tilting my head in confusion. To provoke an impulsive killer like Akira, who had a pile of bodies behind her, and escape with just a fright? That required some truly remarkable luck.

In principle, even if the redhead had killed the idiot, it wouldn't have been a big deal. If we presented our Imperial Spy Agency special unit identification documents, the guards would instantly back off. However, unless absolutely necessary, it was better not to reveal them. Who knew whose ears might hear the information? Alternatively, we could reveal ourselves as high-ranking spirit warriors. Apart from the legendary certificate of completing the state combat school, we also carried the emblem of the Kouken Temple.

In this world, where equal rights were unheard of, you could easily lose your life by offending the wrong person. And typically, there were no consequences for the latter. A Fighter of Adept rank already had the rights equivalent to those of the lower nobility and had a good chance of getting away with murder of a commoner by paying a fine or a bribe. We stood a step above them, and our affiliation with the "court" school of warriors added weight to our rank. It was still a bit of a risk, but not as conspicuous as a line of five tanks parked in a regular car lot.

And then there was the last option: the "magic of money." Widespread corruption allowed you to do almost anything with enough gold. As long as you didn't touch the interests of influential figures or become an overly attractive a cash cow. The problem was that although we were allocated funds for the mission, we'd have to account for every coin upon our return, and our personal finances were not limitless.

In summary, obeying the laws and showing tolerance was not only morally right but also strategically wise.

I should mention a few words about the rank system. This system in the Empire, and in the entire known universe for that matter, wasn't particularly complex. There were five regular stages and one for those who exceeded the norm. The only difference was that, instead of using letter designations like D-C-B-A-S and "uncategorized" as with monsters, humans preferred to use ranks: Neophyte-Apprentice-Adept-Fighter-Master. Well, and "uncategorized" remained the same even for southerners.

A Neophyte who harnessed spiritual power was roughly equivalent to the limits of human potential or slightly exceeded them. You could compare them to Olympic champions pumped full of steroids. Accordingly, the Neophyte physique of Baeb and me was, as they say in Odessa, a world of difference.

But as the level increased, the gap narrowed. Physical abilities took a back seat, and what became decisive was spiritual strength and the ability to use it.

An Apprentice Fighter was beyond the boundaries of what the human body could theoretically achieve. Speeding up several times over or lifting and throwing a load ten times the weight of your own body was a typical example.

Actually, Akame and I immediately surpassed this level when we were still children,during a cruel ordeal, when only a hundred out of several hundred children survived and passed the exam. Although such a thing was considered relatively rare, the entire Elite Seven consisted of such prodigies. This rank didn't come with any privileges, and the certification was expensive, so not many took the official test.

The Adept level marked a significant shift, not only in power but also in status, rivaling that of lower nobility. Adepts were capable of moving at speeds imperceptible to the human eye, making them true killing machines. At this stage, spirit warriors began to learn how to channel energy into their weapons and gained control over their bodies. This allowed them to maneuver at speeds equal to their normal state. Momentum? Impulse? We didn't know, and we didn't want to know.

In theory, a well-prepared and well-armed squad could deal with an Adept under certain circumstances. For example, by catching them in a crossfire or attacking when they were tired or unlucky. But in rugged terrain, as long as an Adept didn't make a mistake, didn't tire, or didn't run into fatal bad luck, they would continue to kill with impunity. After all, to avoid getting hit, you didn't need to be faster than a bullet, just faster than the shooter. According to rumors, the Hunters of the southern tribes caused heavy casualties in our army precisely by using guerrilla tactics. Even Imperial spirit warriors didn't always deal with saboteurs effectively.

According to my suspicions, Adepts and those above were given high status on the principle of "give them what they can take for themselves." It was plainly obvious that oppressing someone who, if not an army unto themselves, was at least a highly trained special forces unit, was unwise.

People with the rank of Fighter and higher could withstand a blow capable of shattering a large boulder without any harm. This meant that they didn't care about handguns unless they were loaded with specialized ammunition, which these folks skillfully avoided. After all, who could aim and shoot them? You could do it if the weapon was held by a Fighter-Gunfighter, or at least an Adept.

However, there were no invulnerable beings in this world. Simple humans could always use poison, surprise, or attack while asleep. Unlike monsters, humans couldn't use their power constantly, and without it, they were only slightly tougher than the untalented.

Essentially, Fighters and even Adepts were the elite, welcomed everywhere. If someone with these abilities showed up in any power structure, they would be warmly welcomed and given a good position. From that perspective, the main character in the manga "Akame ga Kill!" (what was his name, Tatsumi?) didn't look so foolish after all. He was at least an Adept, aiming to achieve an officer's rank in the Capital, and he was right. The only problem was that the country bumpkin had no documents confirming his rank, and no one would believe him just based on his word. As the saying goes, "without the paperwork, you're just a bug."

Those who reached the Master level had not only overwhelmingly impressive speed, strength, and endurance but had also achieved outstanding mastery in the use of their powers. Often, such individuals possessed specific abilities, such as the incredible talent to evade attacks, bending like a snake, instantaneous acceleration (similar to samurai's iaido), or others. In the vast Empire with nearly a billion people, there were only a few dozen officially recognized Masters. Moreover, most of the top and middle positions in the list of warriors of this rank were held by Teigu owners.

In terms of combat potential, with the help of Yatsufusa and stimulants, I was roughly on this level.

The Unclassified rank was given to those who clearly exceeded the upper limit of the Master level. Such individuals were always rare, so there was no scale to measure their power. They were judged by their achievements instead.

Having this rank was attainable for both individuals who had "simply" surpassed all other living Masters and true monsters capable of destroying a city without considering the number of ordinary citizens, Adepts, Fighters, and Masters there. This rank was the only one that wasn't awarded by a commission but was earned through extraordinary achievements. Such individuals didn't appear in every generation, and they were always Teigu users who could fully unleash their artifact's potential.

Currently, there were only two individuals in the Empire who held this rank: Generalissimo Budo and the Supreme General Esdeath.

Teigu... my hand absentmindedly stroked Yatsufusa's scabbard. Once, during the early days of the Empire's formation and during its heyday, only the worthiest individuals were granted the right to attempt to wield the power of one of the Great Imperial Artifacts. Those who succeeded stood on equal footing with the highest military aristocracy, becoming the voice, eyes, and punishing hand of the Emperor. They were called Imperial Knights.

That was how it was until the Civil War four hundred years ago when, for unknown reasons, some of these individuals joined one of the Emperor's sons, who had raised a rebellion.

Why the uprising occurred and what goals the rebels pursued were not known for certain. Even the name of the rebellious offspring of the imperial family was erased from the annals, and his actions were described sparingly and exclusively in a negative light. But the fact remained: after the suppression of the rebellion, the sun of the Empire began its descent.

"I wonder what the First Emperor would say if he could see what his magnificent creation has turned into at the hands of these unruly descendants?" I caught myself thinking in a surprisingly archaic and rhetorical manner. I blinked in surprise and returned to the conversation.

"You can't kill ordinary citizens of the Empire, even if you don't like them, and nothing will come of it," Natal stressed sternly.

"Especially without clashing with the guards," I added, supporting the leader of our group. "You would have struck in a way that allowed him to leave on his own two feet, and then a couple of hours later, he would quietly die from internal bleeding. You're a medic; you know better than me how it should be done. Uh, I mean, killing civilians is bad, yes!" I corrected myself under Natal's disapproving gaze.

"By the way, it's strange that our escort hasn't shown up yet," I added, looking out the window.

"Don't worry, that greedy merchant face won't leave without us. Where else will he find such idiots who will guard him and pay for it?" Akira retorted.

"We won't pay that much, but we'll get to ride in a passenger carriage instead of riding horses with the cargo. Besides, you yourself agreed that this is better than waiting three days for the stagecoach to the Wall and then looking for someone else or buying new horses," the blonde replied calmly. "And if we have to help with security, Mr. Iwajima promised to pay."

"Don't mind her; Aki's just embarrassed, so she's trying to roast you," Kei said.

"I understand," Natal smiled, "but your impulsive, ill-considered actions can end badly, for you and for the group," he looked sternly at Akira. "Do you understand?"

Even the usually silent Babe gave an approving grunt in support of his words.

"I know!" the redhead exclaimed, but quickly deflated under our gazes.

"She really does act like a flame."

"I understand," she continued, her shoulders slumping slightly. "It won't happen again, I promise."

* * *

Returning to the room to gather our things, I summoned my undead servant again. This time, to test an idea, I wanted him to appear with full awareness. The former rebel, who blinked in bewilderment for a moment, quickly focused and handed me a paper bag.

"Here, everything you ordered."

"And what's in here?" I listened to the "control thread" to detect any lies. Not that I expected my minion to bring poison instead of medicine; he wasn't that kind of person. However, it didn't hurt to be cautious. A little paranoia was sometimes beneficial.

"It's medicine," they replied, sounding surprised. "There are remedies for detoxification, maintaining your body, and these... what are they called?" The man snapped his fingers. "Painkillers and muscle relaxants. It's all written down—how to take them, when, and for what purpose." They handed me two small containers. It seemed like Kent had been generous with the price.

"Seems truthful. But I'll test the purchases on someone else later, just to be sure. If I'm going to be paranoid, I might as well go all the way," I thought.

"I've completed your task. When will you release me, Kurome?" His voice pulled me out of my thoughts, and I began packing the medicines into a bag.

"Is existence as an undead really that painful?" I asked.

"A corpse should rest in the ground, and its soul should face the Heavenly Judge, who will weigh all its deeds and send it on!" The fire of faith flashed in the man's eyes. "And you, using this unholy sword, go against the will of Heaven and blacken your soul!" Kent declared.

"Heh, I doubt my dark soul could get any blacker," I smirked, double-checking my belongings.

"Even the most hardened sinner can find a path to redemption!" Kent declared, attempting to give a sermon.

"Especially if they pay the priests well for indulgences," I commented mentally. "We know, we remember, been there. Poor guy! It turns out his brains were screwed by not only the revolutionaries but also the holy men."

"Let's get to business."

"Don't you want to save your soul?"

I exhaled slowly, trying to suppress a surge of anger.

Both sides of my personality held religion in contempt. Kurome simply didn't believe in benevolent gods, and Victor had never been one for genuine faith, despite my grandmother's efforts.

I remembered the overly entrepreneurial priest who had tried to convince me, Victor, to "save my soul" by moving into the Church. Of course, that would involve ridding myself of the "burdens of the secular world," transferring my apartment into the name of a "faithful servant of the Lord." Apparently, the cunning priest hoped that along with my health, I would lose my sanity.

In general, attempts to "talk about God" only evoked anger in me and a desire to painfully silence the talkers. This was what I tried to convey to Kent, without resorting to direct threats.

"You shouldn't do that," the sword and buckler wielder disapproved with a shake of his head. However, after encountering my "kind" gaze, he began discussing the matter at hand.

"What do I feel?" Kent pondered briefly. "Cold, melancholy. When I'm not here, it feels like someone is sending nightmares and draining your soul, but upon waking, you can't remember anything meaningful... It's frightening," he added after a pause.

"Tolerable. And it's interesting that he retains some degree of awareness while being in the spatial pocket," I thought.

"Understood. You'll have to endure," I said thoughtfully, touching my chin. "Although, it might be possible to make your existence more comfortable in the future."