“…”
Just before her prey was within reach, the endless hunger churning in Gistholly’s chest suddenly paused for a brief moment—then transformed into a primal hunting instinct.
…Quiet now.
Don’t wake the sleeping girl before you.
She held her breath, moving slowly, carefully, approaching from the side.
Then, she gently sank her teeth toward that defenseless neck, exuding a tempting fragrance.
From the thin veins of Emil, she would drink deeply, savoring the sweetness flowing through her body.
The pale moonlight spilled silently over the desolate wilderness, illuminating this absurd yet strangely beautiful scene.
The silver-haired girl with crimson eyes clung to the black-haired girl like a silver serpent, wrapping her legs around the latter’s waist.
Her messy silver hair draped loosely over the hero’s shoulders.
Then she lowered her body slightly, parting her red lips as her fangs reached toward the deliberately exposed, tender neck.
“…”
…However, the warmth she had expected, and the sweet burst of blood, never reached her tongue.
In fact, her fangs didn’t even touch the soft skin she imagined—instead, they closed around a slender finger, painted with glossy pink nail polish.
“…Yawn.”
The black-haired girl, who had seemed fast asleep, had somehow already sat up on the wooden stump.
With her free hand, she leisurely covered a yawn, then slowly placed her palm against Gistholly’s bare, rounded shoulder.
An inch. Then another.
Cool fingertips traced along the line of the silver-haired girl’s collarbone until her grip reached Gistholly’s slender neck.
Emil tilted her head slightly, glancing at the silver-haired girl still frozen with her finger in her mouth.
A faint smile curled at her lips, her gaze returning to that same cold, violent expression from their first meeting—
“…Got you, Gistholly.”
——————————————
To be honest, Emil wasn’t very good at dealing with opponents who begged for mercy.
No matter their height, build, or even whether they were human or something else entirely, as long as they showed a desire to live beneath her blade, her greatsword would inevitably dull by a fraction.
Of course, this small trace of mercy rarely affected her decisions—because before they could fall to their knees, her blade had usually already cut across their throats.
…However, this time, Emil found it difficult to strike.
The demon woman before her, who called herself “Gistholly,” had radiated a strange will to survive from the very first moment they met.
She seemed weak, helpless, and remarkably good at putting on a harmless, even somewhat pleading expression.
Aside from the brief flicker of hostility at the beginning, she had shown nothing but a desire to live.
To delay Emil’s attack, she made all sorts of strange requests—nail polish, helping with washing up, even drawing on her face.
…But why?
Emil could clearly sense that Gistholly’s strength far exceeded what she appeared to be—perhaps even surpassing the Four Demon Generals she had faced before.
And yet, there wasn’t a single trace of fighting intent in her.
Was she simply afraid of making a mistake?
Or plotting something deeper?
To test this, Emil deliberately exposed countless openings—giving Gistholly every chance to strike when she was vulnerable.
Yet all the tactics that had worked countless times against formidable opponents failed completely here.
Closed eyes couldn’t lure her out?
An exposed neck couldn’t tempt her?
An unarmored back?
Even a fully exposed heart?
Not once. Not a single time.
Gistholly played the role of an innocent human girl perfectly.
No matter how Emil provoked her with words or actions, she endured it all.
…What an irritating person.
If she could do it over again, Emil would have ignored that rambling minotaur and pointed her blade at this petite demon first.
Even tearing off her own horns—symbols of demon pride—just to claim she was human, all to make Emil stop.
Such overwhelming desperation to live…
Emil had never seen anything like it.
…Fine.
Listening to the faint footsteps of the girl quietly escaping from her side, Emil gazed up at the moonlight, admiring the faint glow of pink polish on her fingertips.
If you want to live that badly, then live.
Killing someone who doesn’t even dare resist isn’t interesting.
And yet…
Whether it was the small kindness Emil showed at the end that lowered Gistholly’s guard, or whether she had always been lurking in the darkness, waiting for the perfect moment—
In the end, this seemingly tamed beast still couldn’t suppress her instincts, and bared her fangs at Emil.
Feeling the damp sensation on her fingertip, Emil curved her lips slightly at the sight of the terrified girl, forming a cold smile.
“…Got you, Gistholly.”
And versions number four and five . . .
thnx for spotting out my mistake..
I have fix the issue