#061. The Dispatch Request is Too Kind (2)

#061. The Dispatch Request is Too Kind (2)

The black panther beastmen lay in ambush on the road leading from Sodom Village to the village that had issued the request.

Dark-skinned, honorary ferocious beastmen blocked every path, with the black panther beastmen positioned near the final gate where all roads converged.

A hint of disappointment even emanated from them.

“With this many of them, our turn might not even come.”

“There’s no way humans could defeat all these beastmen.”

“Whatever. It’s nice to get furniture without lifting a finger.”

Even aside from sheer numbers, what characteristics come to mind when one thinks of beastmen?

Strength beyond human limits.

Intelligence surpassing that of beasts.

The unique sensory abilities of beastmen.

Even in a straight, head-on fight on level ground, the beastmen would have the advantage. If they used their strength and wits to stage an ambush…

For humans, encountering beastmen was nothing short of a disaster.

“It’s too quiet, though.”

“They fancy themselves assassins, do they?”

“Maybe these Darkskins are more useful than we thought.”

The black panther beastmen were pleased with the fact that the others held their positions with not even a murmur of complaint.

If they continued like this, they might consider accepting them as an honorary ferocious beast race.

The thought, perceived by them as something akin to praise, revealed a prudence that bordered on excess.

Now, that they hadn’t even sent someone for the periodic report, their displeasure grew.

“Send someone.”

“You go.”

“No way. The youngest one goes.”

One of the black panther beastmen, pushed back by the pecking order and seniority, rose with a disgruntled look.

When the youngest one didn’t return after a long time in the forest, the others glared at the one who had initially suggested it.

“Alright, alright. I’ll go, alright? Tsk. That young brat’s discipline has gone soft. I’ll work him until he drops for making me suffer.”

When even the senior beastman didn’t return after a considerable amount of time, the black panther beastmen sensed that something was amiss.

This time, half a dozen of them went out to search simultaneously.

But when even those half-dozen beastmen failed to return, Neresha, the leader of the black panther beastmen clan’s task force, led the remaining beastmen out herself.

“It’s too quiet.”

“Not even a sound of insects.”

“What is this… bloodlust?”

An eerie silence that seemed to pierce the eardrums.

The beastmen realized for the first time that silence could be this deafening.

The pressure was insane.

“Daltaran. You there?”

“Wirgal. Don’t just hide in the shadows, come out.”

The two called out as they advanced along the main path.

Surrounding them, black panther beastmen positioned themselves above and below in the undergrowth and trees, forming ranks as they moved forward.

If someone were to attack the beastkin, the rest planned to rise up immediately and crush them with sheer numbers.

“Gather ’round again.”

Into the utter silence, Neresha called the beastkin back together.

But the number of beastkin emerging from the thicket had dwindled.

Truly, it was enough to make a ghost weep.

“Pick up the pace.”

Now they were running in earnest.

Then they came upon the beastkin’s ambush point.

A horrific scene unfolded: blood and entrails, faces contorted in agony, scattered throughout the forest.

“＜Sound Dampening＞. Making a face that pained means even the beastkin scream in agony. If no one heard anything, there must have been artificial intervention.”

“Commander Neresha is right. Even furniture screams when it’s hurt.”

“This feels ominous.”

“Commander. Let’s pull back.”

“This doesn’t feel right.”

The weak voices came immediately.

Neresha shook her head.

“A single human has placed a bounty on our ancestors. Are you going to abandon the chance to become the greatest beastkin tribe just because you’re a little scared? Aside from everything else, do you really think the Black Leopard Clan, the epitome of brutality, can be pushed back in brutality and still survive in this industry?”

In this ruthless trade, even a single failure is not tolerated.

Even if you’re afraid, you have to retaliate with relentless grit.

If you’re attacked and can’t retaliate, the entire organization will be seen as a joke.

“Set it ablaze. Then maybe something will come out.”

The beastkin set fire to the trees and undergrowth as they advanced.

Neresha pricked up her ears.

“There’s a direction where the sound of the fire isn’t heard. Follow me.”

Sprinting onward, they finally came upon the identity of the elusive attacker.

“Caught, have I?”

“Nun’s habit. Humans of the Order!”

Nuns of the Order.

Of the kingdom’s state religion, the Revolutionary Order.

An organization born from revolutionaries who rose up in resistance against the cruel imperial oppression.

They were adept at moving in the shadows against powerful forces and assassinating key figures.

Beneath the shaded trees stood Saint Cecilia, lowering a glove dripping with fresh blood below her waist.

She greeted the Black Leopard beastkin with a face filled with mockery and disdain.

“The God of Revolution is merciful. When oppressed believers rise up for justice, He willingly bestows his blessing. Scum like you beastkin wouldn’t understand, would you?”

“That b*tch is the leader. Kill her.”

At Neresha’s words, the Black Leopard beastkin charged as one.

But those who charged soon fell.

Their bodies shattered and sliced apart, spilling their innards as they collapsed.

A kill trap.

The result of a wire trap.

“You truly cannot deduce *how* they died without me saying? How… pathetic.”

Neresha and the remaining few beastfolk stumbled backward.

This was hell.

Not a place for fighting.

“We need to flee, Chieftain.”

“I refuse to concede. To be devoured by humans, of all things.”

“What is with the theatrics? Pathetic beasts bred from being trampled and used by humans, that’s all you are. Is it not natural that such inferior beastfolk, birthed from losers, cannot triumph over superior humans?”

If beastfolk were more sensitive than humans, the Revolution Order’s faithful were more so than beastfolk.

All revolutionaries lacking such sensitivity had been captured and killed.

Humans were more cunning than beastfolk, and the cunning of the Revolution Order, which had deceived those cunning humans to achieve revolution, surpassed even human wiles.

For the Order, the foe before them, more so than heretics, were the Empire’s brutal soldiers.

The only method to confront those who excelled in weaponry, numbers, and training was through clandestine assassination.

Thus, the Revolution Order was also known as the Assassin Order.

The sisters were expert assassins.

Then, what of Saint Cecilia, chosen and refined among those sisters?

An assassin so outstanding as to receive divine acknowledgment possessed powers that favored assassination.

Naturally, she saw through every rudimentary ambush set by the beastfolk, and used sound dampening to turn the tables and devour them.

The beastfolk’s plan to kill them in the order they arrived had backfired, resulting in the scattered beastfolk being hunted one by one, and those sent to assess the situation dying in turn.

“Flee? Try, if you can. I wonder…just where in this forest *did* the dedicated escort following the Saint plant these little toys of hers?”

Cecilia’s armored glove gently lifted a wire with her index finger.

The wire, saturated with the blood of corpses, emanated a crimson hue in the air.

A trap one could not escape once entered.

A forest laced with wires as sharp as blades.

This place was a trap-filled hellscape, dominated by Saint Cecilia of the Revolution Order and her escort.

“Those of you who do not know a path out have no choice but to die pathetically on your way out. Apologize. Apologize as you die to the pathetic humans you slaughtered; apologize for having murdered them.”

Neresha grasped at a faint flicker of hope.

The side where the Saint’s escort, clad in nun’s habits, hadn’t been able to come because of their numbers.

“There. We break through there.”

Black panther beastfolk naturally possessed fur that aided concealment in dark forests.

If they could hide in the forest’s darkness and escape, they could deliver the information that the Saint was defending Sodom Village to Vanessa, the clan’s young chieftain.

“Run.”

The black panther beastfolk charged the loose edge of the encirclement in unison.

But screams, which should not have been heard, rang out in succession.

“Ghh…”

“Ch-chieft…ain…he-elp…”

Neresha felt a deep injustice.

They had only belatedly appeared in the forest; surely they hadn’t had the time to carpet the area with wires.

Yet, why did wires appear in places different from where the wires had massacred the darkskins?

And weren’t the Saint’s escorts on the opposite side?

She gnashed her teeth in frustration.

From behind the rocks, above the trees, and beneath the roots, a party of figures revealed themselves.

They wore no nun’s habits, yet their refined bearing and grace betrayed their true nature.

“So, you’re the real escort. The ones over there were…”

“Fakes.”

Had they fought with the resolve of those facing death, they could have breached the ‘adventurers’ dressed as nuns.

Being a false Holy Maiden’s Guard, they wouldn’t have been able to set up a wire trap.

Fear took hold.

And so, they lost.

A proud beastkin, reduced to a state no different from a wild animal fleeing from humans.

“Guess it was worth attending Ian’s tactical lessons every weekend.”

“We lucked out with the guild too. You won’t find many places willing to teach this stuff.”

“Dumbasses. Switched clothes and you fall for it? Nya-ha-ha.”

Humiliated by the adventurers’ jeers, Neresha and the black panther beastkin felt their pride crash to the ground.

Neresha, teeth clenched, glared fiercely at Cecilia and growled.

“Even if we die, the clan chieftain, Vanesha, won’t stand for this. She’ll crush your human village with sheer force. Your town will tremble in fear.”

“Try it, you pathetic beast. You’ll all die here before that happens.”

The screams of the beastkin echoed, then ceased, within the barrier.

Cecilia, coiling up the wire and sterilizing it with antiseptic, suddenly felt a question bubble up for the adventurers.

“What are these tactical lessons Ian teaches every weekend?~ Can you tell me about them too? Please?”

The adventurers fell into deliberation.

“We owe our lives to the Holy Maiden, so is it okay to tell her this much?”

“He told us not to leak the content of the lectures.”

“But surely Cecilia-sama is basically his main squeeze, right? She’s practically family.”

“What are you talking about? Ian’s official girlfriend is Maria. He wouldn’t dump his girlfriend just because her boss showed up. Ian isn’t that kind of guy.”

What. Am I being compared to some newbie Inquisitor?

Cecilia’s pride was wounded.

“Hmph! Who said I’d ever want to be his main squeeze? I’m not some easy pushover!”

“Phew, that’s a relief. I was worried we’d be making Ian feel bad. There’s no way the Holy Maiden-sama would try to make things difficult for us, right? You were just joking? Haha.”

“…Y-Yeah. A joke.”

Still, I’m curious.

My pride is still stung.

If I’m the ‘main squeeze’, isn’t it okay to gamble a little bit of pride?

But what if it looks like I’m chasing after him?

Still, with Ian…

No, but still…

The adventurers, faced with Cecilia’s increasingly gloomy and pathetic internal struggle, could only look at the sky or the ground, or bite down hard to suppress their laughter.