Volume 6 Chapter 45 The Unavoidable Collision
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Slomvanilla was not the capital, yet it was the nation’s beating heart.
Wealth, treasure, feasts, pleasures, spirit—every form of bounty was gathered here, not for the people but for one ruler alone. The castle was not built for common use. It was raised as the sole Cat Castle in the world, a monument for a single sovereign.
No hand could defile it. Among the fortresses of the Beast Country, none stood stronger. A hundred years of peace were promised within its walls—until that peace shattered without warning.
A sound like the earth itself breaking apart thundered across Slomvanilla.
The impact spread through the city, sending the lounging attendant-cats leaping skyward.
Perhaps lightning had struck nearby?
On her throne, the Empress of Cats furrowed her brow, recalling the scent of war. It was as though the gates and walls had been blasted in a single wave of hostile magic. Against her chest, the boy she cradled looked up with a frightened face. She pulled him close, soothing him—
”Reporting! Th-the Hero has arrived at the castle!”
The male voice rang from beyond the heavy doors.
The words themselves admitted few interpretations, their urgency leaving no room for doubt. The Empress raised her hand in silent command. As the half-dazed boy was led away, she straightened her posture and fixed her gaze upon the entrance.
”――――!”
The sound came like a shout, as if someone begged restraint. Then, with a shriek of rending metal, the throne room doors warped and flew open.
”…What is the meaning of this?” she asked.
”Ah, forgive me. I can be so clumsy. I only tapped it.”
Gray hair fluttered. At her hip, the jeweled grandeur of her sword reflected the light, dazzling the attendant cats.
The woman who entered—Hero, swordswoman—stepped on the ruined doors as if they were mere planks. She walked as though the throne room were nothing but a street, her crystalline blue eyes piercing the ruler of beasts.
The doors were solid metal, impossible to break with a casual push. Yet her words implied she could, and had, with only a “tap.” The unspoken threat was unmistakable.
Blasphemy. Insolence beyond measure.
Before the Emperor of the Hundred Beasts, such intimidation should mean immediate death. To threaten the sovereign was to invite execution.
Yet silence spread instead.
The Empress remained seated, expression unbroken. No guards appeared. The martial elite who should have seized the intruder did not so much as show their faces.
”Empress Marina. I have questions for you,” Hero said.
She stepped forward. The attendants shrank back, retreating as if pushed by her advance. The intruder drew closer with a naked sword at her hip, yet no one moved to stop her.
The air grew heavy with shared fear. Her expression bore no mark of emotion, yet beneath it swirled a fire so fierce it paralyzed the room.
”――”
A sharp intake of breath.
Perhaps humans could not perceive it, but beastkin could: the godlike heat of wrath that promised to burn everything away. Even without flame, all present felt the sear of that divine fire.
Not one voice dared break the silence.
The attendants curled their tails tight, forcing trembling feet to hold ground. They could not muster courage, not even to pray.
”To show such rage—what has happened? Have we wronged you somehow?” asked the Empress.
She spoke with the calm of one who had led armies, who once stood herself on the front lines. Rosemarina, Emperor of the Hundred Beasts, betrayed no weakness.
”The Beast Country has aided the Hero before, never opposed you. If something has happened, we will help. After all, your comrade—the princess—has been mentor to my daughters—”
”Where have you taken my husband?”
The Empress’s words froze, cut off. Her brow creased, faint with unease. The Hero’s tone was an accusation, not a question.
”…I know nothing of this. I did not even hear of your marriage,” Marina said.
”Then why did the Nyan Law Corps abduct him?”
”…What?”
The Empress’s eyes widened. The throne room chilled at once.
”No such order was given. There must be some mistake—”
”They used the spell Charm of the Scented Step, targeting him with precision. In this land of women, they chose the one man—my husband. They wiped his tracks clean. Abduction is the only explanation. And to use pheromone sorcery? It can only be an act of war. Confess now, and I’ll tear you apart limb by limb.”
Her voice trembled with restraint, yet every syllable dripped lethal promise.
The floor beneath her feet cracked with a sharp report. From her still body radiated destruction, spiderweb fissures spreading across the marble of Slomvanilla’s great hall. Attendants screamed, some collapsing with foam at their lips. Even the Empress unfolded her legs from their calm cross. The Hero had not moved, yet her killing intent alone brought death near.
Charm of the Scented Step.
A spell of pheromones, a woman’s scent weaving into the air, bending male desire.
It did not drive men to madness, but it tilted hearts toward the caster—subtle, insidious, potent.
Harmless in measure, perhaps no more treacherous than a sleeping charm. Yet still, it was sorcery—an intrusion upon trust. Enough to sway the odds of coupling, and never to be used upon a man already bound to another.
Terror spread like contagion.
If her words rang true, her fury was justified. Someone had touched the Hero’s husband—not only with chains, but with a honeyed snare. She had been robbed of him—body and soul.
Anyone could imagine the tempest raging in her chest, a storm strong enough to drive her to slaughter every soul involved on the spot. Even those untouched by the matter knew one misstep could see them caught and killed in the crossfire.
”Wait. I understand. I swear I knew nothing of this,” said the Empress, her voice taut. “Perhaps some blunder or zealotry among my underlings. Grant me time. I will aid you. I vow we will find your husband and deliver him back to you.”
The Empress offered concession without guile. She, too, was a woman. Were her favorite consort stolen, she would burn with wrath like wildfire. The Hero’s anger, even in its extremes, she could comprehend.
There was nothing more terrifying than a woman’s grudge.
And in this case, the woman was the Hero. She was the last foe one could ever afford to provoke. If her accusations proved true, then the nation itself now stood at the precipice.
”…You’d better be. If any harm has touched my husband, I’ll rip you apart—along with this entire kingdom. Don’t think of fleeing. I’m a tenacious woman. However far you run, I’ll find you, and grind you to ash.”
It was no veiled warning, but a naked threat.
Her breath came ragged, each word fueling the blaze of her wrath. This was no longer the calm, even-tempered savior the world adored—only a wife maddened by violation.
”I’ll be in Boorinel. Hurry, and bring me good news.”
”—Wait. One question. What is your husband’s name?”
The Empress reached for her, desperate to halt her departure. To search, one needed a name at the very least. Few humans dwelled long in the Beast Country’s brutal wilds and harsher culture. A rare man would not be impossible to find, but with his name, the search could be swift.
”…Klock Livorno.”
That was all she gave.
Then she turned on her heel—and vanished.
Teleportation. She had intended to leave the moment her demand was made. She had likely already guessed how the Empress would respond.
So great was her fury, it should have been impossible to think so coolly. It must have been her companions in the hero’s party who counseled her and steered her words.
”…Klock Livorno. That foolish girl… what trouble she’s wrought.”
When her presence faded, Marina pressed her brow and exhaled. Around her, her attendants sighed in unison.
”…Bring Elna and Lona at once.”
”Your Majesty… the princesses departed a few hours ago.”
”…Where?”
”To Bastili, I believe.”
Bastili. Far south of Slomvanilla, eastward of Boorinel where the Hero now lingered. It was the place once called the Bastili Hundred Pits—the battlefield where Marina’s own valor had been carved into history.
”Why would they go there? To play?”
”I cannot say… only that they left in haste.”
Marina felt the crawl of dread along her spine.
The Bastili Hundred Pits had long since been remade into a prison, and under court magicians’ counsel, into a sacrificial altar. It was a tool of purging hostile races. No human was ever meant to be placed there.
If Elna had indeed seized Klock Livorno, Marina had received no report of it. Elna handled matters on her own, and information only ever surfaced after the fact.
”Surely she hasn’t sent the man to Bastili? If so, he will not survive. Even if returned alive, he’d be a husk. And should he die, vengeance will be merciless.”
The Abyss devoured all it touched—sapping the living, melting the soul, swallowing what remained. If the Hero’s husband perished within, the consequences would be catastrophic. Marina’s beloved daughter could not hope to escape blame.
”…Parl has returned from his travels, yes?”
”Yes, Majesty. The court magician reported his return only days ago.”
”Summon him. This is an emergency. If we must cross blades with the Hero, the nation itself will perish. She is no mere woman—she is calamity incarnate. And contact Iri-Iri at once. Find out what has become of the man. If he’s in Bastili, pull him out. But do not hand him back too quickly—he may yet be needed as a hostage.”
The attendants scattered at her command.
”And another thing…”
She pointed to yet another.
”Elna and Lona must be hidden. Send them beyond the city, and keep them there until the storm passes. Do not tell them why. If they know, they’ll betray themselves.”
Trusting her daughters’ discretion now was folly. Marina leaned into her hand, her expression grave.
”Your Highness, the princesses are students of Lady Hermine of the Dusselhelm Empire. If Hero Anna were—”
”No. Hide them. The Nyan Law Corps is already guilty in the Hero’s eyes. Whether the man lives or not, association alone condemns them. If word traces back to the Empire, Elna herself will be held to account. And fetch me Sebasnyan, the Siamese steward. He attended them—he’ll know what they’ve done.”
This was worse than treading a tiger’s tail.
Any soul would rage at seeing their beloved stolen. Any heart would seethe if their mate were taken. And if slain? Rage would become a demon’s vengeance.
Another woman might yield to despair. But not the Hero. She was a legend, her pride as mighty as her strength. To earn her wrath was to invite the ruin of kingdoms. She alone possessed the might to make it reality.
”…It was folly to grant Elna such freedom. Had I known her conquest was the Hero’s husband, I could have turned it to our gain. I might even have bound the Hero to us, made her kin instead of foe.”
The Empress of the Hundred Beasts sank into a sigh.
The continent lay beneath her paw, peace was within reach. She had let her daughters roam, for cats were meant to be free. And this—this was the fruit of her indulgence.
Her daughters’ private vendetta now threatened to ignite a war that might demand their lives—or her own—as sacrifice.
* * *
”Yeah, that’s right. We were wiped out. Our rule was stolen by cats, hunted down, crushed because we never bowed. The remnants of our bloodline scattered, hiding wherever we could. That kingdom is gone. We’re the princess of a dead nation,” the Fox Princess said.
Barefoot, she walked over the sand as if it were nothing. Wrapped only in a slightly soiled sheet, the black-haired fox girl strode ahead, and Klock followed. The second princess was gone from sight.
”…I see,” he muttered.
”What, are you pitying me? You’re softer than you let on… or maybe just weak,” she teased.
”Hell no. Feels good, honestly,” he said.
”And yet you hate letting people die. You don’t like it, do you? You can admit it. That’s a virtue, not a flaw.”
She glanced back at him, eyes glinting. He turned away, irritated. Truthfully, part of him wanted the Wolf Princess released. If she had already suffered enough watching her country collapse, then maybe she deserved a chance outside. But if the Fox Princess wouldn’t allow it, there was no point in saying it aloud.
All Klock could expect from her was combat strength—and the occasional accidental glimpse of her body under that sheet. More merciless than the Wolf Princess ever was, she allowed nothing else.
”Anyone who accepts death easily always hides a blade in their sleeve. But you told me not to kill her… not to kill me either. Even though both of us once tried to end you.”
”…It just happened that way. What’s your damn point?” he asked.
”Actions not done for gain, but simply out of preference—those I can trust. Because no one can change what they like or hate. I’ll trust you, at least. I know you won’t strike me from the shadows. That’s enough for me,” she said.
I sure as hell don’t trust you, he thought.
They turned a corner along a sandstone wall, Klock scanning their surroundings. She stopped, her fox ears twitching, probing for sounds. Then she moved forward again.
”Even if you don’t kill, attacking is still on the table, isn’t it?” he asked.
”No need to worry. If you try, I’ll just kill you first,” she said.
If she were ambushed, she might die. But otherwise, she believed she could handle anything. That much was clear. And with Klock stripped of his gear, unable to use magic, she wasn’t wrong—he was almost powerless.
”…Annoying,” he muttered.
She laughed softly. “It’s good that my partner understands people. Don’t mistake me—I’m not mocking you. I actually prefer people like you. Easier to get along with. Better than my own kin, maybe.”
”Whatever. Just hurry up and find a place to rest,” he said.
”…Wait. Quiet,” she whispered.
She pressed a finger to her lips, ears swiveling, catching every faint sound.
Hidden against the sandstone wall, they peered around. Faint voices, footsteps. The crunching was not boots but claws—beastkin soldiers, mole-kin by the sound. Just like the guards they had knocked out in the Abyss. Klock risked a glance.
”…They’re carrying something,” he murmured.
”They’re treating it carefully. What could it be?” she asked.
Four guards in sight, one cradling something in his arms. The way he held it—too careful for anything ordinary.
”…Wait. That’s my gear,” Klock said.
”Huh?”
Folded in the soldier’s grip was his clothing. And atop it, gleaming under the glow of a magic stone, metal caught his eye. He couldn’t mistake it: the weapon he had carried for nearly ten years. Cheap, common, yet the only one that mattered.
No way.
Everyone here was stripped bare. That was the norm in confinement. There was only one reason to bring someone their clothes: because they were going outside.
Shit.
Was he supposed to be released? No… no way.
More likely—he was being moved.
…To the execution grounds.
Notes:
• Slomvanilla – The white fortress, also known as the empress’s residence; a gigantic bedroom on the scale of a fortress.
• Marina – The Empress of the Hundred Beasts; a mature, beautiful woman with bright brown hair, piercing gaze, and enormous breasts. Commands the respect and desire of many males.
• Rosemarina – The formal title of the Empress; refers to her authority and influence over the Beast Continent.
• Boorinel – A town east of Ryzan, where Lord Cattleya’s manor is located; said to be a long journey from Ryzan.
• Elna – Female. A young apprentice mage. Her appearance is that of a child with white hair reaching her shoulders. She wears a black hooded mantle with strange patterns. Her relationship is as an apprentice to Hermine, the Great Mage. Her power involves advanced magic, including spatial teleportation. Her combat style is magical, and she is described as childish and easily provoked.
• Lona – Female. A young apprentice mage. Her appearance is that of a child with black hair reaching her shoulders. She wears a black hooded mantle with strange patterns. Her relationship is as an apprentice to Hermine, the Great Mage. Her power involves advanced magic, including spatial teleportation. Her combat style is magical, and she is described as childish and easily provoked. Elna’s sister; a black cat Beastkin who’s relatively normally developed physically compared to Elna.
• Hermine – Daughter of the Emperor of the Second Empire of Dusselhelm. A companion and friend of Anna. The mage. She is pragmatic and encourages Anna to focus on her duties as a hero rather than her personal revenge.
• Anna – The legendary Hero, chosen to defeat the Demon Lord. Her past life is Sylvia Croce. She is described as a heavenly being with overwhelming skill and a merciless attitude.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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