Under the twilight sky, a corpse lay deep in a narrow alley. Far from the streets, high walls enclosed the area, leaving only a sliver of sky connecting it to the world. This was Seralni’s dark underbelly—murder, rape, robbery played out here daily. Soldiers rarely ventured this deep; the place had long become a haven for the worst crimes. Two girls stood before the body. The silver-haired one crouched to examine it.

Mio turned the corpse over. Cold flesh left a clammy, sticky feel in her hands. The dead man’s cloudy eyes stared blankly at the sliver of sky. His abdomen had been slit open in a precise cross-shaped wound, spilling guts across the ground. He’d suffered terribly before death, trying to stuff his innards back in. But the gash wouldn’t close. He’d died alone, in agony, deep in this alley.

“Same method,” Mio said, standing up. “The abdomen was cut open exactly into a cross. Major arteries and veins were avoided skillfully. The wound couldn’t be sealed—not even with first aid. He just bled out slowly, in pain.”

“This is the sixth one,” Aimee looked away. “Only followers of the Fallen God would do this. They prolong suffering to please their deity. Only they’d commit such acts.”

Mio glanced at the empty space beside her. Reaper Deus stood there, his expression grim. Aimee couldn’t see him.

“Let’s move to the next site,” Mio told Aimee. The order was also for the Reaper. “I don’t get it. Why are the Fallen God’s followers killing so openly? Seralni’s under emergency lockdown—we can’t even leave the city. Soldiers patrol day and night, yet things only worsen.”

“Exactly,” Aimee sighed. “If they’re Fallen God cultists, throwing more soldiers at them is just sending lambs to slaughter.”

“Aren’t they afraid of karma?”

“Karma? To them, this is a ‘ritual’.”

“Ritual?” Mio was slightly startled. “You said ‘ritual’?”

“If I’m right,” Aimee said, “this killer is undergoing a Fallen God trial. He needs ninety-nine sacrifices to earn the deity’s favor.”

“That’s… insane.”

“Yeah. Those cultists are all madmen,” Aimee said. “Just like their god.”

She shifted her gaze deeper into the alley. In the gloomy darkness, over a dozen men lurked. Rusty swords and knives gleamed in their hands. Their greedy eyes devoured the two young girls—especially Mio. Their stares crawled over her body, making her skin crawl. These alley thugs had spotted prey. A beauty like Mio was rare treasure—worth a fortune on the slave market. But they’d made one fatal mistake: overconfidence.

“Seven ahead,” Mio sighed. “Five behind. Twelve total.”

“Troublesome pests,” Aimee sneered, drawing her sword. “Time for this Sword Saint to do a little law enforcement. Don’t worry—I won’t kill them. Heh heh.”

The fight ended in minutes. Every thug lost his right hand and right foot. Aimee swung her blade coldly, flicking blood off the edge. Around her, men groaned in pain.

“Let’s go,” she told Mio. “Next location.”

“I think killing them would’ve been mercy,” Mio said, eyeing the maimed men. “They’ll spend their lives as beggars—or die from infected wounds.”

“Not my problem,” Aimee grinned cruelly. “Justice is for judges to deliver.”

Mio sighed deeply. Her companion burned with fierce justice—but that very intensity made her ruthless against evil. It unsettled Mio. Back in her world, laws were strict. Vigilantism was forbidden.

An unmanned scout drone quickly confirmed the next site.

When Mio and Aimee arrived, a robed man was already there. He looked late forties, draped in an ornate black robe. His thin frame seemed frail. A long staff rested in one hand; a dagger hung at his waist.

“A mage?” Aimee blinked.

The man turned. His face was gaunt, pale skin hinting at recent illness. But he wasn’t weak—anyone underestimating a mage ended up dead.

“Hamodia Swordsmen?” the mage sounded surprised. “I didn’t expect to meet a Sword Saint here.” He bowed politely. “I serve Governor Ludendorff of Seralni. My name is Rasputin.”

Rasputin? Mio recalled a certain Tsarist-era figure.

“I’m Aimee. This is Mio,” Aimee said. “We’re tracking Fallen God cultists.”

“I’m also investigating, under Governor Ludendorff’s orders,” Rasputin replied. “But this might be worse than mere cultists. A ‘Death Servant’ could be emerging.”

“A Death Servant?” Aimee frowned. “That’s the worst-case scenario.”

Death Servant. Mio’s brow furrowed. She’d read about them in Seralni’s Great Library archives. Favored followers of the Fallen God received divine fragments—becoming Death Servants. Rare, but every one who walked the earth brought ruin.

“Governor Ludendorff has declared martial law,” Rasputin said. “I advised against it, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“If it were me,” Aimee sighed, “I’d evacuate the city immediately. A Death Servant can wipe out entire towns. History’s full of massacres.”

“But as governor, Ludendorff has his position to consider.”

“Right. A noble and lord can’t abandon his wealth and status,” Aimee said bitterly. “Ordering an evacuation might cost him his seat. Human selfishness kills more people—including himself.”

Rasputin nodded in agreement. Mio felt uneasy—criticizing one’s master seemed wrong.

“Mages don’t believe in loyalty,” Rasputin seemed to read her thoughts. “We worship Arcane God Megaden, seeking truth and secrets. Working for nobles is just a job. We do what we’re paid for.”

“I see,” Mio nodded. “Like civil servants.”

Rasputin didn’t understand the term but replied, “Close enough.”

“I need to scan the corpse,” Mio pulled out a scanner. “May I?”

Rasputin stared at the device. Mages were scholars—but this was alien tech. Mio crouched. Laser beams swept over the body, capturing organ damage, residue, and lingering energy traces. The Fallen God’s signature wavelength stood out clearly. Another victim.

She flipped the corpse. Guts sloshed wetly. Aimee grimaced and stepped back. But Rasputin admired Mio’s steady composure. Most fled from corpses—especially brutalized ones. Death had numbed her. Having watched comrades perish and cities fall, she’d lost all feeling.

“Results are in,” Mio said. “Trace magic residue matches previous samples. Definitely a Fallen God cultist’s work.” She stood, powering off the scanner. “But the wound technique is sharper now. The killer’s improving. Soon, he won’t settle for alley drifters. He’ll target civilians… even patrolling soldiers.”

“That’s grim news,” Rasputin sighed. His eyes stayed fixed on Mio’s scanner. She frowned and pocketed it quickly.

“Is that a magitek device?” Rasputin couldn’t resist asking.

“…You could say that.”

“What does it do?”

Mio glanced at him but stayed silent. Not refusal—just too much hassle to explain. Her mysterious aura only deepened Rasputin’s curiosity.

*Clap!* Aimee clapped her hands, breaking the tension.

“Since we share a goal,” she said, “let’s cooperate. Reinforcements from the Hamodia Swordsmen arrive tonight. Grandmaster Gilles de Rais leads the elite First Company. Our strength will grow—we might even stand against a Death Servant.”

“Thank the gods,” Rasputin breathed. “With Sword Saint elites, Seralni’s weak guards won’t die pointlessly. I’ll arrange your meeting with Governor Ludendorff.”

“No need,” Aimee shook her head. “Mio and I work alone. It’s most efficient.”

“True…” Rasputin forced a smile. “But please—”

“I’m an illiterate brute,” Aimee waved him off. “I’d embarrass myself among nobles. Let my skilled seniors handle formal talks. Just tell the governor the Hamodia Sword Saint is already moving. I’ll meet him with Grandmaster Gilles later—I can’t do this alone.”

“Understood.”

Aimee turned and strode into the alley behind her. Mio gave Rasputin a polite bow and followed. Watching the girls vanish into darkness, Rasputin sighed softly.

“A headstrong Sword Saint… and a girl touched by death. An intriguing pair.”