ABM – Chapter 56

Translator: ShimizuA, DC    Editor: Arocks141, DC    Proofreader: DC    TLC: Manshiro

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The Footsteps From the Past Were Freezing

 

Black day, at the Count Garland residency.

 

In the darkest midnight among the eight days, his guards made rounds with lamps in hand.

 

“A~ah… Why do we still have to keep watch even on this fretful night?”

“It can’t be helped, it’s our job, our job.”

 

They grumbled as each pair of guards walked around inside the vast mansion and the garden. In the quiet of the night, their voices reverberated clearly. 

 

“After all, there are some rumors that our employer deals in various shady matters. See, he kidnapped so many young girls from the east, even just recently—”

“You idiot, don’t say that out loud. What if someone heard you?”

“Heh. Who’s listening anyway? Stray dogs?”

 

One of the guards frantically interrupted his partner’s sentence. The other one just laughed at him for being too worried.

 

“I mean, I’m sure everyone already knows about this.”

“I’ll say this before the folks at the house hear you. If we were caught throwing dirt at them, they won’t just fire you, but me too.”

“Shit man… that certainly wouldn’t be good. My bad.”

 

It’d be really troublesome if he got fired. At any rate, even if they were guards, there was no one reckless enough to sneak into an aristocrat’s mansion. Furthermore, they were in the royal capital’s west district, which had the most excellent public order. Therefore, inevitably, the daily patrol would just be strolling around the mansion and its ends without anything happening. Even so, the pay was high, making it quite a profitable job. If he could, he’d want to lazily continue doing this. However.

 

“But still, with nothing to do, I’d like just a little stimulation. I wonder if we couldn’t have an intruder every once in a while.”

“Yeah… Well, I agree with you there. My sword skills from the time when I was a mercenary will rust away if this continues.” 

 

Peace that lasts too long becomes agonizing. While unanimously throwing around jokes about accidents that wouldn’t happen, the two of them laughed.

 

—Right in the midst of that, one suddenly noticed something.

 

“…Oi. Did you hear that?”

“Ha? Hear what?”

“Well, I heard something like a woman laughing…”

 

The man looked around restlessly. However, it seemed that the other man couldn’t hear any voice at all.

 

“Oi, oi, that trick is too old to scare me, ‘ya know..”

“I’m being serious here. Did you really not hear that!? I have a bad fe—”

 

Searching for the source, the man’s face distorted as the dreadful laugh resounded in his ears. At that moment,

 

“Ghack.”

 

The guard’s head, the one who had said that he had heard something, fell to the ground with a thud, leaving just the body behind.

 

“A? …… ah?”

 

A few moments later, the headless body also fell down lifelessly. It was too sudden; his partner’s mind still hadn’t registered the spectacle that took place before him.

 

“… Ha… Hya,”

 

After standing still for a full ten seconds, the man finally comprehended the situation, stepping back in a fluster. And then he began to scream. 

 

“–GGYAAAAA!? A, AAAAAHH!! WHAT, THE FUCK, THE FUCK IS THIS!?” 

 

Either it was some pebble or just a difference in height, something caught onto his shoes, tripping him backwards. Without even trying to stand, he kept crawling back, thrusting out his lamp and frantically illuminating his surroundings.

 

There was no moon during the Black day; one could only see three meters in any direction without a lamp. However, the one who beheaded his partner must have been there somewhere, his face stiffened with fear as he searched for them.

 

“Oi! OOII! An intruder, there’s an intruder! Anyone is fine, someone please come here!!

 

It was a scream which cracked his voice. It echoed in the dark night and dissolved into the void. There was no reply. Even though there were supposed to be no less than ten guards other than them patrolling around the mansion. 

 

“Anyone… anybody!”

 

He accidentally met his partner’s dead eyes. A blank gaze, without any reflection in it. There was no need for confirmation; he was already dead. That was natural. His head had been detached from his body, after all.

 

At the same time as he realized this fact, the man once more raised his voice, seeking for help. At that very moment, a sound that didn’t come from him resounded in his earlobe.

 

“Ha… a!?”

 

Clack, clack.

 

Sharp and hard, but also light footsteps. They seemed to appear so suddenly, however perhaps it was just him who hadn’t noticed those sounds till then; the man shuddered at such thoughts. 

 

While his thought was in such disarray, he knew that the footsteps weren’t of his colleagues who might have heard the commotion. The steps were too quiet. Usually, people would run when they heard a scream.

 

In other words, these footsteps–they belonged to the one who created this disastrous scene.

 

“Hii—”

 

With his shaking hand, the man drew his sword while lying on his back. The master of the mansion, count Garland, forbade them from bringing guns to avoid destroying the furnishing.

 

“—That man before, was the fifteenth.”

 

Before long, he could hear a quiet whisper. It was a woman’s voice. Among the guards, there was no woman.

 

“Tonight, there are sixteen guards outside.” said an indifferent voice, lacking any intonation.

 

“The only one left is you.” said an encroaching voice, along with footsteps. And then,—

 

“Bonjour, monsieur.” spoke a lone woman, who appeared under the lamp’s light as though creeping out of the darkness, politely gave a bow.

 

“H-hiii…” escaped from the man as he clammed up, witnessing the appearance of the woman clad in a bizarre atmosphere—Carmilla.

 

A scar covered the left half of her face, disfiguring what was once a beautiful visage. Her gaze was directed at the man, but her focus was somewhere else, not on him. Her head was crowned by hair with a rusty shade as though dyed with dried blood. The suit which wrapped her lean figure was also a darkish red resembling blood.

 

And then, most of all, what unwittingly drew his eyes the most, was a big scythe that was even taller than she was. A weapon easily associated with death, instilled terror in the man’s heart.

 

“There’s no need to be afraid. I… It’s not to my liking to torture someone.” said Carmilla, as she readied her scythe with a *shiing*.

 

“After all—you’re going to be dead soon, there’s no need to make it more painful, right?”

 

The wind howled slowly. She raised her signature weapon as she came closer to the man.

 

“—Be an offering to the Demon of Pure Darkness.”

 

While letting out a lukewarm breeze, the scythe started to distort.

 

“El Datara Nov Nola Zakeh Lakeh Istey”

 

The steel blade undulated like a snake. The darkness that seeping out from the sickle slowly coiling up.

 

“Terror Edge(Scarful Blade Beheading)”

 

Planted by fear, the man didn’t even realize Carmilla’s chant; he was still panicking, still couldn’t cope with all of the sudden situations. His head dropped with a thud, just like his partner’s.

 

There are such objects called enchanted tools. Weapons, armor, or ornaments which have been enchanted by magic. In exchange for being limited to one kind of magic, it could be handled by everyone. Because of its high cost and long production time, the amount circulating in the market was almost nonexistent. 

 

Carmilla wasn’t a Holder, a person without mana. The magic which she just used came from her scythe; an enchanted tool which had been passed down in the Cranberry family, a low-ranking barony and a lineage of executioners for generations.

 

Terror Edge. A magic derived from Black magic, one of the five systems of magic, which associated with curses. It was a high-level spell which decapitated the head of any target filled with fear towards the caster, regardless of the process. A technique that led to Richelieu’s discovery of Carmilla, who didn’t quite excel in either combat or intel.

 

To bring out the scythe’s power more effectively, she burned and crushed her own face, making it ugly. If one went by the kill count alone, only a few could compete with her in Black Maria; due to this, the scent of corpses stuck down to her soul. She devoted her entire life to reaping heads, a true guillotine in the shape of a human.

 

That was the woman named Carmilla—Carmilla Cranberry.

 

“Now then… the reaping is complete.” Carmilla murmmured lightly, before taking out a small whistle from her pocket. It was a dog whistle, similar to what Shizuru used.

 

“… But, to be able to hear this whistle’s sounds.”

 

After blowing her whistle for a while, she took her leave from the mansion’s grounds and returned. Her job for this evening ended here.

 

Every guard stationed outside of Count Garland’s estate, Carmilla had dispatched in full. Standing by outside the tall walls that enclosed the grounds, Oboro opened her eyes and readied herself.

 

“… Did you hear the signal?”

 

To Ludmilla’s question, who was leaning against the wall beside her, Oboro slowly nodded while quietly standing up.

 

The strategy this time was first, Carmilla would massacre the guards outside, which would be followed by Ludmilla’s team infiltrating the estate. Their signal was the dog whistle. Naturally, Ludmilla and most people couldn’t hear the sound, but with a lot of special training since infancy and some anatomical remodeling, it was an easy task for Oboro. So it was the most suitable thing to be used as a signal.

 

“……”

 

Oboro thrust her hand into her pocket and procured a rope with a claw on its end. A Shinobi’s tool for climbing unreachable high places and crossing valleys, a grappling hook. Carmilla who had gone first had also used this, passing over a nearly ten-meter wall while carrying her heavy scythe on her back.

 

Oboro started to spin the hook. When it had built up the necessary momentum, she threw it almost straight upwards.

 

A small clink could be heard from atop the wall. Confirmed that it has properly stuck with a light pull, Oboro held out the rope to Ludmilla.

 

“…So this is why they told me to keep it at just a skirt with a deep slit.”

 

She couldn’t grasp the meaning behind the indicated dress code, but confronted with the current situation, she finally understood. To put it simply, the tight skirt that Ludmilla used as casual wear would make it hard to climb a wall, so the was told to wear something that was easy to move in. As usual, she couldn’t sense the meaning behind Black Maria’s designated work clothes being a suit.

 

Anyhow, Ludmilla, who had changed into black tights and a skirt with a slit up to her thigh, received the rope and climbed the wall. Even though technically speaking she was just a powerless woman, she was still a human of this world where the basic physical power was still greater than that on earth. She could reach the top of the wall in less than a minute while still carrying her gun case.

 

“Fuh… EH?”

 

Catching her breath, Ludmilla looked down for Oboro. There she saw something a little unbelievable spectacle.

 

“……”

 

At the same time as Ludmilla finished her climb, Oboro was landing beside her with a faint thud. She jumped over ten meters as if it was just a step. Also, with very many weapons and tools stocked beneath her clothing.

 

“……?”

 

As Ludmilla stared at her in shock, Oboro tilted her head as if asking is there something wrong. What fearsome agility indeed.

 

—In any case, Ludmilla and Oboro had successfully infiltrated the premises. They headed to the back of the estate, to the door that led to the kitchen.

 

Naturally, it was locked, but then Oboro retrieved a key from her pocket. During the day, she entered the estate disguised as a maid and ‘borrowed’ the key.

 

“Disguising as a maid, huh… For you who never chats at all, suddenly being able to pretend like that is kind of unbelievable.”

“……” 

 

Oboro’s face reddened and she pulled her muffler up enough to her eyes. It seemed that she, herself, was embarrassed by her act as a maid.

 

However, maybe realizing that this wasn’t the time to be embarrassed, she recovered and swiftly put her ear to the floor.

 

“……”

 

With her five senses far surpassing the average person, her hearing and sense of touch allowed her to pick up the slightest sounds and vibrations. Combined with the floor plan that had been drilled into her head, this allowed her to grasp the guards’ position and numbers. After doing this for close to ten seconds, Oboro stood up soundlessly.

 

“…………”

 

“Twelve people? You can really find out just by doing that?”

 

But, she only put her ear on the floor. As I thought, Black Maria’s members are all monsters, Ludmilla thought, speechless.

 

“Hmm… yeah, you’re right. Just standing around here won’t get us anywhere. Let’s hurry.”

 

Spending time idling won’t result in a good outcome. Ludmilla nodded to Oboro who signaled ‘press forward’ with her hand and followed behind her.

 

In the corridor filled with various kinds of decorations lined up, with the carpet laid on the floor acting as a cushion, it wasn’t hard to silence their footsteps. They had also just passed the patrolling guards who had been detected by Oboro. Since most of their targets were important people, there’s a time when the fourth squad asked for intelligence gathering; their convert abilities were top notch.

 

After infiltrating the premise for a while, they progressed without a hitch. However,—as expected—it wouldn’t be that easy all the way.  

 

“Two people, huh.”

 

In front of the stairs to the upper floor. Peeking from the corner at the guards who seated while having a chat, Ludmilla smacked her lips lightly.

 

According to Oboro’s investigation, only the ground floor of this estate had any guards. If they were able to get past here, they could go directly to the target’s bedroom.

 

In other words, it was their last obstacle. If that was the case, though, it was somewhat against the plan, as there was no other way than breaking through.

 

But if it was done poorly, it would cause a commotion and the target would notice. To be frank, even with its sloppy guards, this was still an aristocrat’s estate. It wouldn’t be strange if it had one or two escape routes.

 

If he were to escape, the chances to kill him would decrease and the difficulty would increase. Depending on the situation, the fulfillment of the request itself may not be possible.

 

—What should we do, thought Ludmilla. She racking her brain in turmoil.

 

But, such thoughts were useless. Just needless anxiety that would end soon.

 

“…!”

 

Ludmilla wasn’t able to stop her, or rather she only noticed after Oboro had already begun to move. In a speed which made her muffler flutter in the wind, Oboro had jumped out.

 

“Ah—”

 

“What the—”

 

The two guards were lost; they never thought that there would be an intruder insane enough to reveal themselves. When they noticed Oboro’s existence, it was already too late. With the double dagger that she drew out who knows when—she pierced through their windpipe to their spine, almost simultaneously.

 

“…”

 

Oboro pulled back her dagger while also took a big backstep. It was because she would hate it if her blue muffler got stained by blood.

 

“Wha—…”

 

Still sitting on the chair, without even letting out a deathly scream agony, they slumped as their lives left their body. Seeing their bodies temperature drop in an instant, Ludmilla was dumbfounded.

 

A swiftness that couldn’t be followed by the eyes. In terms of instantaneous power, it may on a par with Casca.

 

—In some island country in the far east, Japone, there was a hidden village of a shinobi clan. Born in such clan, Oboro grew up under harsh training, but her exceptional beauty invited disaster; the village head tried to put his hand on her. She escaped and drifted away to the royal capital as a fugitive ninja. 

 

It was the moment that Ludmilla got a glimpse of the real power of the girl once hailed as a genius. 

 

Escorted by Oboro, Ludmilla arrived safely at the stairs leading to the second floor. And then, they would go separate ways after this.

 

Oboro would deal with the guards’ corpse and keep watch at the stairs. Ludmilla would go to their objective, assassination of Count Garland.

 

“…Really, the crisis management here is really sloppy, isn’t it.”

 

While walking down the dark and quiet corridor, Ludmilla grumbled her innermost thoughts.

 

Count Garland’s estate was not guarded except for the first floor. Reason being, he hated it when people loitered around near his bedroom.

 

This favorable situation was irritating in its own way. Aristocrats were people who managed the country, namely, those who engaged in politics. They were the sorts of creatures from which a single comment could have far-reaching consequences, and often they were eloquent and well-versed in protecting themselves.

 

Count Garland had gone on ‘manhunts’ at the east district repeatedly. Even if they’re people from the slum, it didn’t change the fact that they’re still human. By all rights, it was an act that should have been severely condemned and properly-deserved imprisonment.

 

—Nevertheless, nothing changed in Count Garland’s everyday life, he still spends his days carefreely. Although the concept of self-protection first has been ingrained right down to his bones, it seems he didn’t really have any wariness at all. If one looks at the number and arrangement of the guards, it was clear as day.

 

In other words, Count Garland still didn’t think of the recent human hunting will affect badly in his mind. At most, he only considered it a deed akin to scribbling on one’s neighbor’s fence.

 

Humans were beings that became colder the more status and power they gained. Not colder as in their temperature that could be seen by Ludmilla magic eyes, but in reference to feelings that only intelligent beings can have, such as kindness and mercy.

 

The more power they held, the higher positions they occupied, the more they might lose sight of what made them human; how ironic and foolish. If that was the truth of the society, Ludmilla didn’t want that power.

 

Until the day her father and mother were killed, that was what she thought.

 

“Scum…,” cursed Ludmilla as she clenched her teeth in the dim corridor.

 

She hated aristocrats that had lost their human warmth. She loathed them. She even detested them. She strongly believed that they needed to be eradicated.

 

That’s why now, she desired power. She craved power which would let her exact revenge on the aristocracy who snatched away her beloved father and mother from her.

 

“I’m not, I’m not powerless anymore!”

 

She was filled with nothing but pure hatred and resentment. With her heart filled entirely with the desire for vengeance, she became a hitman to acquire power.  

 

Because now, that was Ludmilla’s sole reason to live.

 

After walking along the corridor which was devoid of people, she finally reached a single door. It was visibly made to be more luxurious than others; the door which led to the master of the estate, Count Garland’s bedroom. 

 

“…Haah,”

 

Ludmilla took a deep breath to calm her heart. She was so tense, her hand trembled, and dark emotions boiled in her stomach, stirring her heart with furry.

 

After she calmed down, she took out a decorated key from her pocket. This also something that Oboro had ‘borrowed’ during the day. 

 

She put it into the keyhole and twisted it. With a slight response to her finger, it opened with a click. She turned the doorknob, and as expected from a high-class door, it opened without a creak.

 

“…Haaah,” Ludmilla let out a deep breath. She put her hand on her chest as a sudden wave of anxiety quickened her heartbeat. She tightly gripped her weapon she had taken out of its case and took three deep breaths.

 

After that, Ludmilla slipped through the partially ajar door. Then, she quietly shut the door and locked it for a second time. 

 

—With this, no one would interrupt them. 

 

“Fu…Fu, fufufu…” she felt laughter inside her stomach every time she cut off an avenue of escape. She held it back as she slowly going to the center of the vast bedroom, step by step.

 

There was one body heat reaction from the bed. She approached it until she was able to confirm its face.

 

The moment she took a look at the man’s face as he slept with tranquility, Ludmilla’s eyes opened wide. Her eyes opened so wide it seemed they would pop out of their sockets.

 

The corners of her mouth crept upwards by themselves. At last, the time had finally come; sound began to escape from her throat as her vocal cords grew taut.   

 

Count Garland’s right here.

 

“——Haaa.” For a moment, she had stopped breathing, before letting out a long, pleasured breath. Resentment, hatred, exaltation, delight, euphoria. The feelings she should have had suppressed came back and overflowed, leaving her unable to get them back under control on her own.

 

Her heartbeat was loud enough that other sounds barely reached her. Though she had a body that was constantly languid and weary because her body temperature could never rise, she felt a burning passion. Tears streamed from her eyes.

 

“…Fu…Ha, ahaha,” her fingertip moved to wipe her tears. She turned on the lamp on top of the bedside table. And then—with the water jug beside the lamp—she magnificently splashed the contents to Count Garland’s head. 

 

“Guah!? W-wha!?” the fat middle-aged man sprung up after being drenched with water while asleep. Still, he didn’t know what had suddenly woken him from his slumber, the foolish prey looked around at his surroundings with unfocused eyes.

 

Around that time, he also discovered Ludmilla’s figure. He saw the sharp arrowhead of a loaded crossbow being aimed directly at him. 

 

“W-wha—”

“I recommend you to not make any sound. You still want to live a little bit longer, right?”

 

Announced Ludmilla, beating him to the punch before he could reflexively let out a loud cry. She said it in a courteous, polite, yet coldhearted voice.

 

She would fire if he displayed any unnecessary behavior. Garland instinctively and frantically shut his mouth, understanding what was being implied from what he was told. The last vestiges of his sleepiness had been completely blown away.

 

“Ufufu…”

 

For this indoor assassination, Ludmilla had swapped our her specialized rifle with a crossbow. In her mind, she smiled at the thought of him seeming like a pig just before being slaughtered.

 

Then, timidly, Garland’s eyes met with Ludmilla, and before long, towards her lamp-illuminated face; he felt an indescribable sense of deja-vu.

 

“You… you are… !?

“Oh my, to think you would remember me.”

An elegant smile made its way onto Ludmilla’s lips.

 Even if her appearance and atmosphere were far different from how she was, her mannerisms and gestures were the same.

 

“If so, let me greet you properly—it has been quite a while since we last talked, Count Garland.”

 

With that, the count was convinced. He muttered the intruder’s identity, her name.

 

“…Princess, Natasha…!?”