No to Being the Suffering Heroine!

Early in the morning, the slums had turned into a battlefield.

Kwa-jik!

A homeless man fell limply after his head was split open by a great sword swung by a wolf Beastfolk. The horizontally sliced skull spilled its contents like a toppled bowl of soup.

“Dyeojyeo!”

In the chaos, another homeless man plunged a poisoned knife viciously into the Beastfolk’s side.

“Krrrr…! You filthy beggars!”

Enraged, the Beastfolk swatted with its left arm like swatting away a fly.

“Ggaaaah!”

Chwak! Blood gushed out like a fountain.

The homeless man, aiming to retreat after landing a hit, had his chest ripped open by claws, and he fell back screaming in agony.

“How shameless of you to use poison…!”

Peuh-uhk!

An axe blade thrown by someone struck the beast’s furrowed brow. The wolf Beastfolk staggered and then crashed to the ground.

“Now’s our chance! Pounce on it!”

“Let’s tear it apart!”

The beggars, not missing a beat, swarmed the fallen Beastfolk like a pack of hyenas tearing at meat.

Whoa… that’s kinda…

Like the ingredients in a blender with the lid off, flesh, entrails, gore, and bone fragments were flying everywhere. It was a sight that made one’s face scrunch up involuntarily.

“Kya-ha-ha!…”

It didn’t take long for the squirming wolf Beastfolk to become what you’d call raw dog meat.

Though the healing powers varied among them, in general, they were below Troll levels.

Even without using silver weapons, if you chop someone up like that, they’re bound to lose their breath.

“Phew, finally dead. That filthy bastard.”

Five homeless men barely managed to dismantle one Beastfolk. They were grinning with a sense of victory as they kicked its corpse and spat.

“Boris! How dare these trash!”

Before they could relish their triumph, another Beastfolk burst in, ready to smash their skulls with a hammer.

Kwa-ji-ji-jik!

Five fractured skulls scattered like flower petals over the blood-soaked alley.

◆◆

A chaotic scene where beastfolk and beggars were openly slaughtering each other. Horrifically mutilated corpses scattered everywhere.

The homeless folks were crushed or exploded by the Beastfolk’s strength.

Because of their own regeneration, the Beastfolk were even worse off, torn apart in gruesome ways.

There were even some junkies who were trampled to death while lying wasted.

Instead of the usual rotten smell, each alley was heavy with the stench of blood and guts, and chunks of flesh floated in the runoff leading out of the city.

“Ugh….”

What do you even call this? It was beyond words—a true hellscape.

“Are they treating inter-organizational conflicts like a war…?”

All of this just to find me? It seemed way overboard.

I didn’t know why the Beastfolk were searching for me, but let’s just say they had urgent business.

But why were they waging a bloodbath against innocent beggars just to find me? That was truly unfathomable.

Is it one of those logic trails where the slaughterer summons themselves if the slaughterhouse gets set up? Like, offering a sacrifice to summon a demon?

“Whoa! It’s a festival! A festival!”

“A festival my ass….”

Well, when you think about it, it did work out according to that logic. Here, the slaughterer was summoned, along with some demons.

“You gutter trash! Your stench is keeping me awake!”

“Shut up and quit barking like a dog!”

Both the Beastfolk and the beggars were too busy fighting each other to pay us any mind.

“…Should we just go back?”

“Is that even okay? With all this chaos?”

Friede looked at me like I was crazy for suggesting that.

Ignoring it and just leaving seemed a bit iffy, right…?

I hesitated to step into the hellhole, bringing it up, but it seemed like it was a suggestion Friede couldn’t agree with.

Could a hero really just stand by and watch such atrocities? I mean, it did seem like a heroic mindset in a way.

“If this gets worse, won’t we really be in trouble? What if we get chased out of the Shadow of the Eagle? Then we’d have nowhere to go.”

…Or maybe not?

I was confident that following my lead would only worsen the situation.

“…That’s true.”

It definitely wasn’t an incorrect observation.

Not that Argantir would do something like that, but if by any chance he decided to throw me aside, my situation could turn dire.

Losing the disguises of Fernhilde and Krimhilde and no longer having a safe place wasn’t the only issue; my safety would be under direct threat as well.

Once Argantir decided to abandon me, he wouldn’t just kick me out—he’d try to eliminate me altogether.

Why, you ask?

Naturally, it was because of his double identity.

Only a select few close aides knew that Argantir, the Prince of Hervor, was the master of the Shadow of the Eagle.

He had played the role of a harmless good guy all his life to avoid drawing attention from his warrior brother, Heid, so if I blabbed that secret, it would be a disaster.

Sure, most wouldn’t believe it, but Heid wouldn’t just laugh it off as a rumor.

Knowing Heid, he would verify the truth and once it’s confirmed, he would definitely “take care” of Argantir.

In fact, there might not even be a need to kill him.
Just announcing that the heir to the kingdom was the head of the largest assassination organization in the kingdom would make it quite difficult for Argantir to ascend to the throne.

Logically, the nobles wouldn’t welcome someone like that rising above them.

If he even so much as lets slip his temper, he could lose his head in his sleep. They won’t let someone like that become king, out of pure fear.

Being a king is certainly the pinnacle of state power, but that doesn’t mean they’re an absolute ruler monopolizing all authority.
If the nobles band together against one, replacing the heir isn’t particularly impossible, you know.

It’s not even a big deal if there’s no one besides Argantir claiming the throne; the current king or Heid could easily solve it just by having a kid.

To sum it up, the moment Argantir decided to cast me aside, I would become a danger that he would have to silence.

Worrying about that, I was convinced he wouldn’t easily throw me away… but that was uncertain.

Argantir and I were merely in a contract relationship for mutual benefit.
With no emotional ties whatsoever, if he calculated it to be more advantageous to cut me loose, he could do so at any time.

“…Yeah, I need to find a way to manage this.”

In other words, it might be necessary for me to somehow straighten things out here to avoid tipping the scales in favor of loss.

To subdue the slums, I thought it would be more effective to step in as an organizational executive than just an individual, so I used the name of the Shadow of the Eagle.

I intended to leave the city as soon as it was wrapped up, thinking it wouldn’t be a big deal if I was just treated as an impersonator.

But….

“Where is that Shadow of the Eagle! Tell me!”

“I said I don’t know, you crazy bastard!”

“Those eyes! You’re lying, aren’t you? I’ll pluck them both out!”

…Looking at how things were going, this certainly didn’t seem like something that would just end as an impersonator’s mishap.

So what to do now?

“Hey, cat. If you have eyes, would you mind looking this way?”

“Cat?! How dare this girl…!”

“How dare? I’m the one you’ve been looking for. Want me to introduce myself?”

I had no choice but to clean up the mess caused by me.

“I am Krimhilde of the Shadow of the Eagle. Nice to meet you.”

Drawing Edelmuth, I leaped like lightning towards the bewildered Beastfolk.

“You’re that—”

Kwa-jik! My blade pierced right through the Beastfolk’s face.

“Cough, urgh…!”

“See ya.”

I twisted my wrist to raise the blade and slashed down in one go, splitting its body and spilling its entrails everywhere.

Even with regeneration, that degree of injury would be fatal… just to be safe.

Kwa-jik, kwa-deuk, seogeok, eujijik.

With the squelching sounds of ripping flesh and shattering bones, the agitated Beastfolk was reduced to nine pieces, sprawled out.

It looked like a drunk butcher had wildly wielded a cleaver. Even a Troll wouldn’t survive looking like that.

“Y-you…! You filthy btch! If it wasn’t for you…!*”

As I dealt with the Beastfolk, lightly shaking off the blade, a beggar with one eye half-plucked lunged at me, spewing curses.

He’s cursing even after I saved his life.

“Hah.”

Letting out a sigh, I swung the blade and sliced off his dagger arm, twisting my body to cleanly sever his upper jaw.

“Kuk….”

With only his lower jaw and tongue left, the beggar fell, with his exposed throat gasping. A fitting end for someone ungrateful.

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