"An intangible attack from a distance? Or a psychic assault transformed from that demonic allure that targets men?"
The maid pondered calmly.
There had been no wound upon her body before the blade drew near, which meant it must be the latter.
And so, the maid pressed the communicator and issued orders to the manor's final armed force.
"Calling the inner guard. The enemy has broken through the outer defenses and is moving along the eastern corridor toward the core area of the main house. The target is suspected of possessing psychic attack capabilities triggered through sight and sound, and simultaneously wields swordsmanship at the seventh rank or above. Orders as follows: all personnel are to immediately don full-spectrum isolation earplugs, switch to thermal imaging observation mode, use submachine guns, and mount an interception in the Second Hall. Establish mid-range crossfire suppression. No warning required. Lethal force is authorized."
The orders given, the hiss of static vanished from the channel. The maid stood in place, silent for several seconds, and then, harboring an uneasy heart, she too left the surveillance room.
Stepping into the rooms of the manor, ahead lay a deep, shadowed entrance corridor. The floor was polished smooth wooden planking, the walls to either side a plain white, the only decoration a few warm-glowing lamps embedded within the walls. The light was dim and yellowed, utterly silent, as though it were a throat leading down into the belly of some colossal beast.
Swordmaster Tomie did not linger. She passed through the entryway and strode forward, the tip of her blade dragging an intermittent trail of blood across the floor.
Turning left at the end of the corridor, ahead lay an even longer hallway.
On one side were shoji doors facing the inner courtyard; on the other, tightly shut rooms.
Moonlight filtered through the paper doors, casting blurred lattice shadows upon the floor, and it also cast the silhouette of Swordmaster Tomie.
She could feel the gazes falling upon her, could hear the breathing nearby, but she did not halt her steps. She merely wore a mocking smile, and offered a casual, careless disregard.
The hallway ended at a T-junction. Swordmaster Tomie turned left without the slightest hesitation, following the connection of the [Tomie Network]. She had no need to hesitate.
At the end of the hallway, the faint outline of a larger space and a stairway leading upward could be discerned. Just as she passed through the corridor and stepped into the spacious hall, four pitch-black figures appeared within her line of sight.
Clad in matte-black combat suits, their heads fully encased in helmets, visors reflecting a faint glimmer in the dim light—these four, armed to the teeth, raised their submachine guns and had locked onto her the very moment Swordmaster Tomie revealed herself.
No warning. No shouted challenge. Not even a single superfluous gesture.
The moment they met was the moment they opened fire.
"Ratatatata—!"
Four tongues of flame erupted in the dim hall. The suppressed gunfire, muffled by silencers, was as dense as a rainstorm hammering on sheet metal, and the shrieking of bullets ripping through the air instantly filled the entire space, weaving a crossing net of fire!
Swordmaster Tomie had already begun to move the instant their figures emerged, retreating swiftly backward.
And yet—it was meaningless!
Submachine guns in a spacious room were no mere pistols in a melee; the dense hail of bullets blanketed everything, leaving no blind spots.
"Thwck!" "Thwck!" "Thwck!"
The first wave of bullets tore through her flesh at once, her left shoulder bursting into a spray of blood, the arm gripping her blade knocked askew.
Immediately after, her right abdomen and left thigh were struck in succession, the impact sending violent tremors through her frame.
"Ratata—!"
The second and third waves followed one after another. The crossfire left her no room to dodge; her chest, her flank, her other leg all burst open with bloody holes at once. Blood spurted out like a tomato squeezed with force, tracing gorgeous, mournful arcs beneath the dim yellow light.
More bullets came without pause, pouring mercilessly upon her. Chest, abdomen, arms… blossoms of blood burst open across her body one after another.
Left shoulder blade, right flank, the outer side of her left thigh, her right abdomen… the tremendous kinetic force of the submachine gun rounds tore through her flesh with ease, shattering bone. Her body reeled backward again and again, swaying left and right, trembling without cease, until she toppled backward like a puppet with its strings cut and crashed heavily onto the cold ground.
Swordmaster Tomie's body twitched a few times, blood swiftly spreading out from beneath her, forming a sticky pool of gore.
Only then did the gunfire cease. All that remained in the hall was the acrid stench of gunsmoke mingled with blood, and a single, ravaged female corpse.
The four inner guards still held their firing stances, muzzles trained on the target on the ground as they advanced slowly, closing in from three directions with extreme caution, keeping a certain safe distance and forming a crossing surveillance.
The figure on the ground seemed already utterly dead—black hair splayed loose, concealing her face, her black garments riddled with bullet holes, the blood flowing out staining the fabric a deep crimson.
"My lord, the mission is complete. Shall we recover the body?"
After scrutinizing the female corpse on the ground carefully, as if to confirm that Swordmaster Tomie was truly dead, the lead inner guard used his communicator to send an inquiry to the maid.
"Do not be careless. The target is suspected of possessing an immortal body."
A calm female voice came from the direction behind the inner guards, stirring a faint echo through the empty hall.
The maid stepped out from the shadows of the long corridor leading into the depths of the main manor, her gaze falling at once upon that ruined female corpse.
Confirming with her own eyes that the target had fallen let the taut string of her heart slacken, just a little.
Should they have truly disturbed Lord Takaichi in the midst of his pleasures, interrupting that one's refined amusement—or worse, alarmed, injured, or even killed that lord—she could not imagine how cruel a punishment she would suffer.
"An immortal body?"
The inner guards felt some surprise, yet did not make a fuss over it. In their impression, the rulers of this nation all possessed immortal bodies, capable of resurrecting even after death, and the unknown experiments in immortality were hardly few in number.
The four men focused their gazes once more upon the female corpse on the ground.
It was just that a body only moments ago torn apart by bullets was indeed difficult to judge as truly dead by thermal imaging alone.
The dissipation of the heat source could mean death, or it could merely be a suspended state of near-death from severe bodily damage plunging into extremely low temperature.
"It is only a suspicion, not yet certain. This target differs greatly from the immortals I know of… In any case, restrain her first."
The maid furrowed her brow slightly and moved to a position that was relatively safe and offered a clear view of the whole situation.
Though she had initially regarded Swordmaster Tomie as a mutant strain of Tomie, this Tomie was far too different from the Tomie she knew, leaving her unable to make an accurate judgment.
In her view, the best outcome would be to capture this woman—this suspected Tomie mutant—alive, so as to guard against the possibility that this woman was not Tomie at all, or that she had lost her immortal body, and to ensure that the researchers below could conduct the most reliable live-body experiments.
But the power Swordmaster Tomie had displayed was far too formidable… No! It would be more accurate to say it was far too uncanny.
To take her alive would be exceedingly difficult.
Her foremost duty was to safeguard Lord Takaichi's amusement and safety; capturing Tomie was a secondary task, and there was no need to lose sight of the greater good over the lesser.
The inner guard who received the command immediately stepped forward, drawing out restraint straps, about to bind Swordmaster Tomie's corpse.
Yet, in the very instant he reached her side and crouched down, the abnormality manifested!
The body on the ground, which should have been growing cold, suddenly convulsed violently!
Those wounds torn open by the bullets—the flesh at their edges began to heal at a speed visible to the naked eye, and one embedded slug after another was squeezed out by the muscle, tumbling to the floor with a rapid succession of tiny sounds.
Witnessing this scene, the inner guards retreated one after another. Once they had opened the distance, they raised their submachine guns without hesitation, aiming at Swordmaster Tomie's corpse.
"Open fire!!"
With that cold command, the four inner guards squeezed their triggers in unison. The submachine guns spat lethal tongues of flame, and bullets once again poured like a rainstorm upon Swordmaster Tomie's corpse.
"Ratatatata—!"
Flesh and blood flew everywhere!
The already-ruined body shuddered ceaselessly under the barrage, new bloody holes blossoming beside the old wounds, some spots even exposing stark white bone. Under the suppression of that dense curtain of fire, the body seemed utterly without power to resist, passively enduring the devastating onslaught.
But the faces of the inner guards gradually changed.
Something was wrong!
The sound of slugs entering flesh was wrong!
At first it had been a clear tearing sound, but very soon it became mingled with a kind of dull thud, like striking wet, thick leather or tough rubber.
What was more, the speed at which that body bled, after the initial spray, was visibly slowing!
And more uncanny still, the very outline of that body was steadily transforming under the impact of the bullets!
Accompanied by a low, dense crackling, Swordmaster Tomie's body was stretched longer joint by joint—shoulder blades, ribs, limbs, as if undergoing a second growth. Her height, her arms, her legs rapidly extended by dozens of centimeters, rising from under 1.6 meters to nearly two meters!
That was not all. Her muscle fibers were also proliferating madly between the existing muscle bundles, their density surging dramatically, while the muscles on her body's surface thickened at an astonishing rate, her frame becoming solid and brimming with a sense of power.
Yet the muscles of her arms and legs did not swell into exaggerated globes; the lines of the muscle were unusually distinct, filled with explosive strength, yet evenly distributed, losing none of their beauty.
The change in her skin was the most immediately apparent. What had been fair, delicate skin was now covered by a taut, hardened layer of keratin, rough as sandpaper, while the neck, the inner sides of joints, and other areas requiring nimble movement retained their original suppleness—only the dermis beneath the skin had clearly thickened, forming a pliant cushioning layer.
These were only the surface changes; her internal organs were transforming as well. In her chest cavity, for instance, two proliferated auxiliary lung lobes were now aiding her respiration.
When she drew a deep breath, the swelling of her chest was utterly pronounced, the sound of air being drawn in deep and forceful, as though more than one bellows were working in unison.
This entire process was faster than imagination could grasp—in but two or three short seconds, the beautiful swordswoman of a moment ago had become a two-meter-tall, brawny muscular monstrosity!
The maid and the inner guards could not help but stare dumbstruck, watching Tomie's transformation with their own eyes. That powerful visual impact left them somewhat dazed, unsure for a moment what to make of it.
But they very soon recognized one thing!
Swordmaster Tomie, after her transformation—was strong!
"Ratatatata—!"
The bullets pouring out struck Swordmaster Tomie's body, and their effect was utterly different from before!
Most of the bullets struck her bronze-colored skin and actually gave off the muffled thud of striking heavy leather. The slugs embedded themselves into her skin and muscle, yet one could clearly see they failed to penetrate into her body—they could entirely be called mere flesh wounds.
At the same time, Swordmaster Tomie opened her eyes, her right hand seizing the tachi that had fallen beside her, and she slowly rose from the ground, facing head-on the bullets streaming in from ahead. Her legs sank slightly, her body swayed, yet she was not toppled by that tremendous force.
More than that, she lifted those cold, indifferent eyes and looked toward the four inner guards before her, who faced her as though confronting a formidable foe.
Within that gaze there was no emotion at all—only killing intent, pure to the utmost extreme. And when the corner of her mouth curled up, a bloody, sinister wind swallowed the crowd before her like a storm!
"Slash!"
An immense presence pressed down upon their senses. The four inner guards felt the air around them turn chaotic and violent, as though a thousand phantom blades were clashing and ringing within their ears!
Even though they had already been equipped with gear to counter the Consciousness Slash, the presence Tomie radiated the very moment she stood up, together with the visual shock brought by her inhuman form, struck their mental defenses like a heavy hammer.
It was not enough to break their minds, but it left them dazed for an instant.
Only an instant! And only an instant was needed!
"Boom!"
Swordmaster Tomie exerted force through her legs, the enhanced muscles bursting forth with terrifying kinetic power. Her whole body was like a cannonball fired from its barrel—shattering the wooden floor as she went, carrying a violent gust of air, hurtling straight at the nearest inner guard!
Her speed was more than twice what it had been before!
The newly-grown auxiliary lungs operated with high efficiency, delivering explosive oxygen to her muscles and pushing her short-range charge beyond the limits of humankind.
That inner guard, in the final instant, forced his focus through astonishing willpower, his muzzle barely aligning with the onrushing black shadow, and pulled the trigger!
Yet even as the bullet fired, the flash of the blade had already arrived—straight at his neck!
That inner guard did not even feel the pain; he only sensed a coldness at the side of his neck, and then the world spun.
His head, wearing an expression of shock, flew from his body, blood gushing forth from the severed neck.
Before the corpse had even fallen, Swordmaster Tomie had already spun with the residual momentum of her slash. Her feet stamped against the ground, and her form shot like an arrow straight toward another inner guard.
The death of their comrade and the explosive commotion had long since brought the other inner guards back to their senses. That guard, watching Swordmaster Tomie charge at him, changed color and instinctively clamped down on his trigger—yet the bullets only swept through an afterimage she had left behind.
There was no superfluous flourish. With a horizontal wipe as precise as a surgical incision, the blade grazed the gap between his tactical helmet and the collar of his combat suit; his throat bone, windpipe, and artery were severed by the edge in the same instant.
By the time Swordmaster Tomie swept past that inner guard's side, he no longer had the strength to fire.
The third inner guard, the moment his comrade fell, had already retreated rapidly. While opening the distance, he bit the muzzle of his submachine gun to Swordmaster Tomie's moving trajectory, caring not in the least whether he might harm his comrade, pouring out a dense hail of bullets that wove a curtain of death within the hall.
The fourth inner guard could spare no thought for anything else either. In concert with his comrade's spray, his bullets poured like splashing water, trying to seal off Swordmaster Tomie's path of advance.
It could not be said to have no effect—only that the effect was slight.
In the instant the bullets reached her, Swordmaster Tomie's left foot slammed against a nearby corridor pillar, her body wrenching aside by the force, briefly escaping the coverage of the fire, threading through the gaps in the barrage with astonishing agility and anticipation.
The bullets chased her footsteps, gouging a continuous string of holes into the wooden floor and walls. Even when they struck, it was no more than a few slugs—unable even to affect Swordmaster Tomie's mobility!
The distance between the two sides grew closer and closer. The guard's breathing beneath his helmet grew heavier and heavier as he sprayed madly—but he couldn't hit her! Still couldn't hit her!
No! Wrong! It was not a question of whether he could hit her at all! Even if he did, it would be useless! A monster like that simply could not be killed!
Fear—intense fear—was climbing up along his spine, and in the moment his magazine ran dry, the fear surged to its highest peak!
As he fumbled frantically to change the magazine of his submachine gun, Swordmaster Tomie's figure suddenly vanished from his field of vision, and his heart, along with her disappearance, abruptly stopped beating.
It was but an instant!
For Swordmaster Tomie had not vanished—she was simply too fast!
She had kicked off the wall and reversed course, her enhanced legs bursting forth with a scalp-tingling force, sweeping horizontally toward him almost flush with the ground!
In the moment she appeared before him, the guard's heart resumed its beating—but that had become its very last beat!
"Shk!"
The cold blade slid across the guard's neck, once again a single stroke to the throat, not a shred of strength wasted.
With that, only one inner guard remained!
The sole surviving guard watched with his own eyes as his last comrade was beheaded in the instant of reloading. A chill shot up through the crown of his skull, and his well-trained composure was ground to dust by instinctive terror.
"AAAAAAAHHH!!!"
He roared, his face ferocious and contorted, tears sliding from the corners of his eyes, saliva spraying from his mouth. He squeezed the trigger all the way down, hurling every remaining bullet in the magazine at Swordmaster Tomie without reservation!
This time, Swordmaster Tomie no longer bothered to dodge. Along a simple, efficient Z-shaped route, she charged head-on into the rain of bullets!
Her speed erupted once more within that short range. The bullets fell one after another to her sides, and for a moment, not a single one could catch up to the core trajectory of her charge!
Five meters, three meters, one meter!
"Click."
The sound of the hammer striking empty was piercingly clear in the death-still hall of that moment.
The guard clutched his submachine gun in both hands, its muzzle pressed against Swordmaster Tomie's abdomen, his fingers still clamped fast on the trigger—but no matter how he pulled it, no bullet would fire.
Swordmaster Tomie already stood before him, her towering figure nearly blotting out his entire field of vision.
At a distance of less than an arm's length, her brawny frame cast a dense shadow that enveloped him entirely.
He looked up helplessly, the visor of his tactical helmet reflecting Swordmaster Tomie's cold, savage countenance, and the dripping longsword in her hand.
He wanted to beg for mercy, wanted to say something—but the flash of the blade was already mirrored in his eyes.
From above, downward. Simple. Cold.
The edge swept past; the head tumbled free.
The headless corpse swayed, then toppled backward, the submachine gun slipping from its grip to clatter to the ground with a dull thud.
The hall fell utterly silent.
Swordmaster Tomie lifted her head and looked toward the one who remained.
The maid—the one who had been the commander. She stood between the hall and the long corridor, her body slowly retreating. She wanted to flee, wanted to seize the chance to escape while Swordmaster Tomie had not yet noticed her, while she was occupied dealing with the others and had no spare attention to spend on her.
Yet, too fast—Swordmaster Tomie had killed the inner guards far too fast!
Four inner guards armed with submachine guns, clad in body armor, equipped with countermeasure gear, had been wiped out clean by Swordmaster Tomie within a single minute.
Utterly clean and decisive, without any fancy flourishes. Once the mechanism of the Consciousness Slash had failed, Swordmaster Tomie had crushed the inner guards through sheer numbers of raw power.
Swordmaster Tomie carried her blade, stepping over the wreckage strewn across the floor, walking toward the maid one step at a time.
Her steps were not quick, yet each one landed in the space between heartbeats, making the maid's face grow paler and paler. The heavy pressure turned even the surrounding air viscous, making each of her breaths a labor.
She wanted to retreat, wanted to turn and dash into the shadows of the corridor behind her. Her reason shrieked, commanding her legs to move. But her body defied her will.
The fear of biological instinct made her knees go weak, the muscles of her calves trembling faintly, as though bound in place by invisible chains.
It was not for lack of courage.
She had seen scenes bloodier than this, and had carried out missions more dangerous still.
It was the most primal instinct of the body, that, in the face of an existence far beyond its own tier, issued the most direct of warnings: do not move, do not draw attention. Move, and you die.
She watched Swordmaster Tomie step over corpse after corpse, walking toward her. Moonlight slanted in through the broken shoji door, one half illuminating Swordmaster Tomie's cold, hard, solid features, the other half sinking into the shadows of the hall. Those eyes looked down upon her, holding within them neither the arrogance of a victor nor the exhilaration of the kill—only the indifference of one gazing upon the dead.
Who was the dead one?
The instinct for survival ignited her strength. She drew a deep breath and shouted in a trembling voice: "Do you understand what you are doing? Stop this madness! You can kill me, just as you killed all the others! But if you continue, it will mean making an enemy of this entire nation!"
Swordmaster Tomie halted her steps before the maid.
And then, she smiled.
"Heh heh!"
She slowly split her mouth open, her overly powerful masticatory muscles pulling that smile into an arc that nearly tore her face apart, baring stark white teeth. The knots of flesh on her face and the layered keratin stacked into ravine-like furrows, brimming with a sense of ferocious power.
"You'd best worry about yourselves first…"
And yet, she seemed to smile with great delight.
"Are you not afraid the entire nation shall fall beneath my blade?"
The instant her words fell, it seemed as though even the air in the hall congealed.
That rhetorical question, posed with an almost righteous confidence, carried a heavy, sinking weight that filled every inch of the space.
The maid held her breath, her pupils dilating unnaturally, her face awash with a bewildered expression.
The fall of a nation? By one person? By a single blade?
What preposterous, utterly absurd raving was this!
Yet in this hall strewn with corpses, its gunsmoke not yet dispersed, before this body radiating an inhuman oppressiveness, beneath the gaze of those eyes calm to the point of indifference… the sense of absurdity was ground to dust, leaving only a subversive chill.
She could do it! If she had said so, if she had willed to do so, then she most certainly could do it!
It had nothing to do with reason—the maid's mind subconsciously gave rise to such a thought.
____
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