Gus jolted like a startled hare, legs shaking. He glimpsed two green-haired shapes lit red, sweeping in at shocking speed, kicking up sand and shattered stone.

Haywood’s mountain bulk trembled. Medith’s raging, mournful aura rode the wind, dropping him into an ice cellar—like millennia of winter.

Gill’s brows jumped like grass in a squall. That familiar, fear-soaked specter shot in like a red snake, reaching the front doors in under three minutes.

"All members below B-grade, clear out. Run as far as you can." Gill steadied his voice, Bloodsword in hand.

Kuso members swallowed hard. They traded a look, set their resolve, and bolted from the castle like leaves in a gale.

"Gus, you run too. If I die, you’re the next guildmaster. Tell my father how I went. Etch Medith and the Elf Clan into your memory." Gill’s blood-red coat rippled, carrying quiet loneliness and reluctant farewell.

Gus said nothing. He nodded, pressed his empty right sleeve, and led the crew in a swift retreat.

...

Boom— a Cyclone tore in. Medith slid and chopped, one stroke cleaving an eight-centimeter Impado steel plate of the Kuso Guild clean in half.

Her eyes blazed a terrifying red. The Bloodsword hummed, bathed by the blood moon, like ambered glass, both art and ancient sorrow.

Medith descended like a deity, storming solo into the Kuso Guild’s grand hall.

The hall was vast and opulent. Trinkets glittered everywhere, rare curios gleamed, and nameless beast skulls grinned from gilded shelves.

At the front, a red-carpeted stairway branched like arteries, leading to every office in Kuso’s headquarters.

The bustling crowd had vanished. In their place stood burly men in black-and-red cloth, like storm clouds massing.

Their outfits matched, the Kuso crest stamped on their chests. Only their right-arm tattoos differed, a patchwork of tempers.

Black lotuses, lions and tigers, demon masks, Egyptian warriors, horned black beasts.

They bared their teeth at Medith, faces burning. "Damn Sprites! You killed our steward, paid barely a price, and you dare strike back?!"

"Kill her. Let her learn what blood-for-blood means!"

Medith’s phoenix eyes swept fast. "Eighty... two hundred... five hundred...

Five hundred. Three minutes."

With that, Medith exploded upward. The marble beneath her popped into a spider-web pit.

The Blood Drinking Sword thrummed, a blade-song that rattled the soul, then lanced through the crowd in one cut.

Thud, thud... Many never even reacted before they were split in two.

"Scatter!" Gus had just reached the stairs. He didn’t think; against Medith, clustering only made you die faster.

His words steadied them. Shock unraveled into motion, and they fanned out like birds flushed from brush.

Medith kept a blank face, body low, both hands tight on the Blood Drinking Sword, coiling for the strike.

Several Kuso men grabbed weapons, trying to flank her from behind like jackals.

Medith moved like she had eyes in her back. She sprang, traced a clean arc through the air, then tapped down, long legs pinning their weapons.

"Yaaah—" A burly titan swung a spiked warhammer, driving a crushing blow down at Medith.

He was fast, and he’d planned it. The strike was unavoidable as Medith landed.

Thunk— the hammer fell. Its spiked head punched Medith’s planted legs three centimeters into the floor.

Medith held a half-crouch, the bloody greatsword lifted, unmoving. Blood burbled down her brow—she looked dead on her feet.

The brute’s mouth curled. He drew breath to roar—then pain bloomed. A scarlet greatsword punched through his chest.

He stared at Medith’s impassive face, at eyes glowing hell-red, and crumpled to his knees.

Medith turned coldly, drew the blade from his chest, then kicked his body away like trash in the wind.

She blurred, weaving through the battlefield like a lithe white snake, Bloodsword dancing, reaping lives like lightning.

"Regido—" One member saw Medith at arm’s length and snapped into Magic Breaker. A mighty Breaker Light Pillar wrapped him. During absolute defense, no one could breach it.

Medith had expected it. She leapt back a few steps. Others followed suit; in a flash, dozens of pillars speared upward, blasting bottles, tables, and boards into shrapnel.

"Your Lawbreaking Ability makes you proud, doesn’t it?" Medith finished. A bad feeling coiled in their guts.

Medith’s bright eyes widened. Her emerald irises flipped to white, and when they fully blanched—thoom—an airburst rolled out. From her center, a circular white line raced outward.

It swept through the remaining dozens in the hall in an instant.

It all took three seconds. Before thought could catch, they saw the worst thing in their lives.

Crack— the Breaker Light Pillars shattered like mirrors and blew away as dust.

Their familiar power didn’t surge back when the pillars faded.

Worse, they couldn’t sense it inside themselves at all—like it had never existed.

Panic blew through the Kuso ranks. They skittered like ants on a hot pan, wailing, collapsing under Medith’s relentless assault.

Minutes later, as the last head flew, five hundred B-grade members lay slaughtered. The hall was a blood-sea purgatory, and even calm Gus turned ashen, stomach roiling.

Medith held the Bloodsword, crimson from head to toe. She snatched a towel off the stairs and wiped the blood from her delicate face.

Then she looked at Gus, cold as winter. "You understand. You’re not wrong. I’m not wrong. Gill’s not wrong.

We only failed in small choices, missteps that led to this beyond-remedy end.

Things didn’t have to become this, if we’d each stepped back—even a little.

But right now, I’ll let hate steer me, just this once.

Will you stand in my way?" The fire in Medith’s eyes looked hot enough to burn a soul.

Looking into those world-ending eyes, Gus knew he couldn’t fix anything.

"No..." Gus forced the word out. He bowed his head, unable to meet her gaze.

Medith nodded. Then her slender hand moved, the greatsword bloomed two flowers of death across his chest.