Chapter 18 Second Virgin
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
’The Reiwa-era old-man hunt RTA begins now!’
The town was asleep—every living thing but the trees—and I walked its empty streets with hands that would not stop shaking. My name is Reina Alcott, and I am cursed with the ‘Evolution’ blessing, a fact that has led me down a path of isolation and violence. I pressed my palms to my sides, forcing the tremor down, trying to feel like someone who could still control a body. The stress was a slow, choking thing; my breath came in small, ragged pulls though I hadn’t run.
’You’ve raised the base stats through training, but that only makes you strong for a level-one,’ the voice in my head said, clinical and careless. This voice, which I’ve come to know as the ‘RTA’ voice, has been controlling my actions and pushing me towards violence.
Perfect. Just perfect. That voice wants me to do it—wants me to kill. The memory from ten years ago would never leave; the feel of my hands as they ended my parents’ lives sat under my ribs like a stone. I could still see the light leaving their faces—the blind trust in their child’s hands, the way love emptied from their eyes as I moved.
’Normally you get to level up after expedition lessons unlock. But if all you want is levels, you can do that anytime,’ it added.
My hands had snapped their necks—my parents’ defenseless throats crushed under those fingers—and the image hit like a slap. I was only five years old when I gained my blessing and curse, leading to their murder at my hands.
’Again with the hysteria—come on, pull yourself together,’ the voice tutted.
I forced my breath steadier, tracking the calm returning to my chest with the same clinical curiosity I hated in myself. The steadiness felt wrong, like a mask that didn’t fit.
”How many times has this happened?” I muttered to the empty air.
They toy with me like a marionette. The voice kept explaining things at length, as if to an audience, but understanding its motives—what it truly wanted—would make things simpler. If only I had the cunning to bend its plan so I didn’t have to do what it demanded. To achieve the other’s ends while keeping my hands clean—that would have been something.
’—So the goal is to reach level twenty before the academy’s tournament,’ the voice ended. The tournament is a crucial event where students showcase their abilities, and the voice seems intent on using it as a platform for my ‘leveling up’.
At the same instant a man came down the road: lantern bobbing, armor clinking with each step. The metal sound told me he was a soldier; the lantern showed his face enough to know he was another living obstacle—and in the voice’s calculus, another target I was supposed to kill.
’Perfect timing, Kureha,’ the voice observed. Its amusement was like a blade.
Every time that lantern drew closer my pulse kicked up. Footsteps, light swinging—this was what the voice had been training me for.
”Is someone there?” the man called.
Calm down, calm down, I told myself. Do as the voice says—it’s not worth angering it. You can’t win by arguing.
”A girl? A student?” he added, as if to explain away an odd sight.
My hood hid me enough that he couldn’t see everything, but the lantern would have shown the softness of my face—still young, still not hardened. That slight surprise delayed him by a breath. It was enough.
’Don’t get careless now. No matter how strong you are, level one is still level one. Against a true knight, surprise attacks won’t do much,’ the voice warned.
I struck, threading a hand wrapped in Darkness Sorcery through the air, a skill I’ve been honing under the voice’s guidance. This sorcery is a debuff that interferes with the mind, making it a powerful tool in combat. The soldier’s reflexes spared him from a killing blow—he only nicked my cheek. The wound was thin, superficial, but it should have been my advantage; he was supposed to be off-balance. Why had he dodged? Because I still couldn’t bring myself to mean it—because, somewhere, I held back.
’—So, Homo-chan, really try this time,’ the voice said, sharper.
I swallowed. Please—wait. I’ll do it. I’ll mean it this time.
’Now—when he reaches for the sword at his hip, close the distance and disrupt him. Aim with the right hand; he draws more easily to the left, for some reason,’ the voice instructed, matter-of-fact as ever.
Before he could get his weapon free I moved in, crushing space until there was no room for him to breathe. I rained narrow, precise strikes into tiny openings, denying him the space to draw. If he couldn’t bring his sword to hand, the panic bred by a failed draw would fester and make him sloppy.
It stung to admit it, but this voice moved me better than I could move myself.
’Darkness Sorcery mainly interferes with the mind—it’s a debuff. Level differences can resist it, but repeated touches in hand-to-hand combat will increase your chance of breaking through,’ the voice explained, its tone instructional as always.
Still, something was missing. I pressed my favored distance, attacked again and again, and yet a lowly soldier kept fending me off as if I were a child learning to fight. Ten years under my master’s lash, the brutal training that had made my body into a tool—none of it seemed to cleave through this man’s defenses.
’Homo-chan, it looks like you haven’t made up your mind yet… good grief, what a coward,’ the voice sneered.
I didn’t know. I was trying my best, but the voice’s demands were at odds with my own moral compass. I had already killed my parents and attacked my roommate, Riza, under the voice’s influence. The thought of taking another life filled me with dread, but the voice seemed determined to push me further.
I gritted my teeth and, half in desperation, followed the voice’s commands. I kept at it, drove the attack as if the motion could force my will to catch up with my hands.
The Darkness Sorcery began to nibble at the edges of his composure; his brow creased, displeasure and a new, sour fear seeping in. The voice was right—repetition mattered. It wasn’t a complete failure. But that only made the truth sharper: I might succeed in killing an innocent person if I kept on. The thought lodged like a splinter.
”Why must I—again—do this with my own hands?” I whispered.
Reality was closing in, slowly and inevitably, and then the man reached for his sword.
”Ha!” the voice made the sound of a strike.
I hadn’t fully registered what was happening—yet because the voice moved my body, I managed to avoid the worst of it.
”…Huh?” I breathed.
Pain seared the nape of my neck—like it was burning. A warm dampness spread through my clothing. The sensation was vile and immediate; the fabric darkened where the fluid seeped, sticky and hot against skin. It was clear: I’d been cut.
”He barely grazed me…”
All this time, from the very beginning, I had been thinking only one thing: I don’t want to kill anyone.
But look at him now—his eyes have turned on me like I’m a monster. He leveled his blade, its tip wet with my blood, and aimed straight for my heart. I could see it. The anger. The fury. The hatred in his face. Maybe it takes that kind of rage to fight something that moves like I do when the voice takes control.
Still…
”Ah—!”
He was a grown man, taller, stronger, trained to kill. And me? I was a trembling girl, terrified beneath his murderous gaze.
”Eh? Homo-chan, are you scared? Oh… I see,” the voice mocked, feigning realization.
Of course I was. No one wants to die. If survival means killing, then he’ll do it—anyone would. It was so obvious, and yet I hadn’t truly understood until now.
How stupid of me. Somewhere deep down, I had believed I wouldn’t really die.
But that was wrong. I was being forced to fight an opponent I should never have been able to face—a knight in full armor—and even the voice that possessed me had taken damage. I was standing on the edge of a grave.
’No retries here,’ it said flatly.
And if I died now, the voice wouldn’t care. It might rage for a while, then move on, slip into someone else’s body. That was what I was to it—a disposable vessel. I was dying because it thought maybe I “could make it.”
”Hah… hah… hah…”
’You know,’ the voice mused, ‘in my old school we had a punishment game—public mast***ation…’
”Shut up! Aaah!!”
I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die, and I won’t let this thing take my dignity too!
’Now—here!’
I slipped half a step sideways to avoid his downward slash and struck the flat of his blade with the back of my left hand.
’Oh, there’s your opening~!’
I dove in close, punching hard into his chest with my right fist and driving my left elbow into his gut.
”Gah! You little—!”
”Ugh!”
”Hot! Too hot!”
The lantern smashed across my face, shattering. Glass bit into my skin, and burning oil spread over my cheek. The world swam in orange and blood.
’What kind of scum targets a girl’s face…’ the voice hissed.
It hurt. Gods, it burned. I couldn’t open one eye.
’Speed type, seriously? Of all the enemies to draw with a level gap, this is the worst. Not a brute or a tank—nooo, it had to be speed. Thanks for nothing,’ it droned.
Even so, my body still moved. It ignored the pain, ignored the fear. It simply obeyed.
”What—?!”
He hadn’t expected me to charge again—half-blind, face burned, shards still buried in my skin. His shock was almost audible. Yet he recovered fast; he thrust his sword horizontally this time, wary of another counter.
He was good. A real knight. And I was still just a level-one novice, an untrained killer pretending at strength.
’Go on, hit me, hit me,’ the voice jeered.
And somehow, the killing match continued.
”Guh!”
I caught the blade between my forearms just before it reached my chest—but the strength difference was absurd. He wrenched me around like a ragdoll, slammed me into a wall so hard my lungs emptied, then drove a knee into my stomach. The plaster exploded outward as I crashed through.
”Shit!”
I rolled just in time to dodge the next swing that aimed for my neck.
’Haha—Homo-chan, I can’t even see through the tears, lol,’ the voice laughed.
It was true—I was crying. Not just from pain, or the fire in my skin. It was the fear. The raw, suffocating fear of a real fight, of someone trying to end me.
”Yield already!” the knight shouted.
’Yeah, sure…’ the voice muttered, disinterested.
”I can’t!” I screamed.
The knight’s offer was mercy, and I couldn’t take it. I wasn’t allowed.
”Then die here!”
”‘I don’t want to die! Not unloved, not forgotten!”
”You attacked first! How selfish can you be?!”
I didn’t want to die like this—after killing my parents, after ruining so many lives, without ever understanding why I was born. I still wanted something better. I still hadn’t let go of that stupid hope.
’You couldn’t even kill a bug with that attitude!’ the voice barked.
”Shut up!”
”What—?!”
I didn’t even know who I was shouting at anymore.
My heart was a tangle of grief and rage, self-pity and despair. I hated myself, hated everything about this. The tears wouldn’t stop; the fury burned bright enough to drown them.
’First enemy’s a speed type, one eye down, mental breakdown mid-fight—wow, what a run of luck,’ the voice gagged theatrically.
It wouldn’t stop talking, spitting nonsense while I bled and screamed. I wanted to rip it out of my head.
’Total mud fight, here we gooooo~’
If I didn’t kill him, I would die. If I made too many mistakes, the voice would abandon me—leave me in this nightmare.
’All right,’ it said suddenly, the tone shifting. ‘Time to get serious. Watch closely now.’
I grabbed a piece of rubble, poured Darkness Sorcery into it, and hurled it. The knight deflected the projectile—and that was my cue. I charged low, driving in for his legs.
He countered with a brutal kick that snapped my jaw sideways.
’Well, you tried,’ the voice said dryly.
Blood spilled down my chin, but I didn’t stop. I grabbed his leg, locked both arms tight, and spun with every bit of strength left in me—throwing him through the wall and out into the street beyond.
I staggered to follow—but something hard struck the side of my head. A rock, flung back by his desperate counter. The impact rang through my skull.
’Doesn’t work on me, trash,’ the voice said coldly. ‘I’m untouchable.’
Even after taking the hit, I didn’t slow down. The knight was still trying to rise when I rammed my knee into his face with all the momentum I had left.
’And one more!’
I kicked again, pouring more mana into it. The impact rang out like shattering metal—his armor cracked.
”Gah—?!”
’That’s what the right hand is for.’
I shoved my hand into his open mouth, conjuring paralyzing venom with Darkness Sorcery as I yanked his head back and slammed it into the wall behind him.
’Suck it,’ the voice said.
”Ghh—!!”
’Easy on the teeth,’ it added, mocking even now.
Pinned against the wall, the knight had no room to swing his sword. I could feel him trying to bite down—trying to crush my hand—as he pressed his blade toward me, inch by inch.
’Mm… it’s about time,’ the voice murmured.
The struggle didn’t last long.
’Looks like the iced tea’s kicking in,’ it said casually, as if talking about the weather.
His body slackened. The blade slipped from his grip, and he crumpled to the ground, drooling.
’The sorcery from your opening attack was a debuff—stat reduction. It’s obvious and easy to notice, so he focused on resisting it. That’s what most do with dark magic.’
He was still breathing, shallow and ragged, his eyes locked on mine.
’He probably thought that was his weak point and fought to resist it,’ the voice continued. ‘But that was the trap. After the first exchange, you switched to a debuff against status resistance itself.’
I picked up his fallen sword. My chest heaved, my breath uneven.
’Resistance debuffs are subtle, hard to feel. He protected the wrong hole, poor straight fool—his guard wide open where it mattered most. That’s why the final toxin worked so fast, so deep.’
My head swam. The sword trembled in my grip.
I climbed on top of him. His body lay limp beneath me, but his eyes—his terrified, human eyes—still stared back, pleading.
’All right, time for the finishing blow.’
”Hah… hah…”
’Well, we fumbled a bit in the middle, but thanks to a solid route plan, it all worked out,’ the voice said lightly.
I’d won. I was alive. I wasn’t going to die here.
But the victory brought no relief—just emptiness. I was safe, yet my heart was still trapped in the moment before death.
There was no one there to ask if I was hurt or what was wrong. The voice was the only presence, cold and unyielding, as I grappled with the aftermath of my actions.
My parents’ final moments flashed through my mind again and again—their warmth, their smiles, their trust. And now, this knight’s face, pale and still beneath me, began to blur into theirs.
”Ah… ngh…”
I knew I had no other choice. I knew. But even so—
”I don’t… want to kill!”
The words burst out of me, choked and broken. I sobbed, ugly and desperate.
”Why?! Why do I have to be a murderer? Father, Mother—no! Why did you have to die?!”
Who would ever *want* this? Who would *choose* it? Why do I have to do something this horrible?
”I can’t… I can’t do this…”
My hands shook. My body refused to move. Tears streamed down my burned face, my breath hitching in useless gasps.
”Please… please, I can’t…”
I held the blade over the knight’s body, my whole face twisted with tears and snot, unable to form words, unable to stop crying.
”I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… You don’t understand what’s happening, do you? You must be so afraid…”
”Please… I can’t do this, please…”
I begged the voice again and again, though it had never once shown mercy.
’Just kill him already.’
The words hit like ice.
”Aah—!”
My arm moved on its own. The sword plunged down. The knight’s eyes went wide, still filled with terror, until they didn’t see anymore. I twisted the blade, and the sound of breaking life filled the alley.
Blood fountained up, painting my face red.
’Experience gained: 2018.
Level up: 3.
SP acquired.
Several skills have improved.’
I just stared. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t feel.
’Now then, let’s peel off the face! If we leave a clear signature at the crime scene, knights from other regions will gather to hunt the culprit. More prey for us!’
I didn’t know how to skin a human face—but my hands did. They moved smoothly, efficiently, guided by something not me.
’The vengeance-driven experience… *cough*—I mean, the knights will come seeking revenge. Stronger ones each time, so it’s efficient farming. No need to travel.’
The knife traced under the ear, down along the jawline. I slid the blade beneath the skin and began to peel.
’We don’t actually *need* the skin. It’s just more impactful that way. More buzz, more fear—marketing, you know?’
The voice droned on, as always, while my hands finished the work. When it ended, all that remained was a corpse with a slick, pink face.
’Good job. On to the next one!’
I staggered to my feet, stumbling backward from the body.
”Ugh—!”
That night, even after there was nothing left in my stomach, the vomiting wouldn’t stop.
Notes:
• –
• Riza – A female student and Reina’s assigned roommate, initially confident and outgoing, but brutally assaulted and mentally broken by Reina under the voice’s control.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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