Silence fell for a moment, the absurdity of her request hanging in the air.
Then, one of the mercenaries burst into laughter.
"Haha! Did you hear that, leader? She wants us dead!"
The entire group broke into fits of laughter. Slapping the tables, hooting, pointing at the girl like it was the best joke they'd heard all week.
But amid the mocking chaos, none of them noticed the expression of the man sitting to the leader's right—the deputy, Riku. His eyes were unfocused, his face suddenly slack, like something inside him had snapped… or shifted.
Riku reached slowly for the sword resting at his side.
The man beside him, noticing the movement, grinned and said mockingly,
"Oi, Vice-Captain! You gonna make the girl's wish come true?"
He chuckled, not taking it seriously in the slightest.
But Riku didn't reply. His hand gripped the hilt tightly, and with a swift motion, he unsheathed his blade—and before anyone could react—
Swish—
The mocking man's head dropped to the ground with a dull thud, a horrified expression still etched on his face.
The laughter died instantly.
Every eye turned toward Riku, who stood there motionless, blood dripping from his sword, eyes empty.
The group's leader shot up from his seat, knocking his chair back.
"What the hell are you doing, Riku?!"
But Riku—the vice-captain—showed no sign of hearing his leader's shout. His eyes were glazed over, devoid of recognition or reason. Instead of stopping, he turned toward the next mercenary with the same eerie, mechanical precision.
The second man was quicker, raising his kunai just in time to block Riku's first strike.
Clang!
The sound of steel against steel rang through the tavern—but it was clear that Riku was stronger. With a swift step forward and a downward slash, he broke through the defense.
Shhhk!
A fountain of blood sprayed across the table, and the mercenary collapsed, lifeless.
Panic surged among the remaining members. Chairs scraped back, weapons were drawn, and confusion turned to fear. Two men were already dead—and both at the hands of their own vice-captain.
The group's leader clenched his fists and cursed under his breath. He could tell now—Riku wasn't acting of his own will.
His eyes darted toward the girl, who was still smiling, standing perfectly still.
"You… What did you do to him?!" the leader shouted, fury in his voice. "Release my brother from whatever damn illusion you've cast!"
The girl tilted her head innocently, as if confused by his outrage.
"I didn't do anything," she said in a voice as sweet as syrup. "I just asked him nicely to kill all of you. He's such a kind man to fulfill a little girl's request, isn't he?"
Her eyes sparkled, and the smile on her lips never faltered. It was a terrifying kind of cheerfulness.
The leader's face twisted with rage.
"You bitch!"
He charged, sword drawn, aiming directly for her neck, intent on cleaving her in two.
The girl didn't flinch—but took a small step back, almost lazily, as if giving him a chance to think about his actions.
Before the blade could reach her, a blur of black and red passed in front of her.
The boy, who had been standing silently in the background until now, moved.
The leader's instincts screamed too late. All he saw was a fist—growing larger and larger—right in front of his face.
BOOM!
The punch landed square on his jaw with a thunderous impact.
His eyes went wide as his feet left the ground, his body flying backward like a ragdoll.
The leader's body smashed violently into the tavern counter, splintering it into pieces with a thunderous crash. Glass bottles of liquor shattered upon impact, their contents spilling over his unconscious body. Some bottles struck him directly, rolling off his limbs and head as he slumped amid the wreckage like a broken doll.
Antares turned toward the red-haired girl and spoke in a calm, steady voice, "Makima, end it. Don't play around with these weaklings. Just kill them all."
Makima turned her head slightly, her crimson hair swaying, and smiled with a playful light in her eyes.
"Sorry, Antares-oniichan. I'll be quick."
She faced the remaining members of the Red Wolf Mercenary Group and clapped her hands once, almost as if she were about to start a game.
"All of you… kill each other."
Her voice was light and airy—far too casual for the command she had just issued.
A second later, the chaos began.
The mercenaries looked around in confusion for only a moment—then their faces went blank, eyes hollow. Their movements turned jerky, unnatural, as though invisible strings were pulling at their limbs.
Without hesitation, one man drove his blade straight into the stomach of the mercenary next to him. The wounded man gasped, blood pouring from his mouth—but even as he fell, he twisted his own weapon upward, plunging it into the chest of his attacker.
Both collapsed, twitching in a widening pool of blood.
All across the tavern, steel clashed with steel—not in defense, but in blind, mindless slaughter. Controlled by Makima's will, the mercenaries butchered each other like puppets tangled in a deadly dance. Some screamed for a brief second before slitting their own throats or impaling themselves on their comrades' weapons.
Among them, three managed to hold their ground.
Their eyes twitched, their faces strained with effort, and their hands trembled as they resisted the command. Blood vessels pulsed in their temples as they gritted their teeth, refusing to give in.
They were stronger—mentally at least. Whether through raw willpower, arrogance, or sheer force of ego, they saw Makima not as a superior, but as someone beneath them.
Makima's expression didn't change. She blinked once, then turned her head slightly, as though mildly impressed.
"Aa… I see. Some of you are actually resisting. That's rare."
Before any of the resisting mercenaries could take advantage of their clarity, something stirred behind Makima—around her waist. With a swift, whiplike motion, three golden chains shot out from beneath her coat.
Adamantine Chains.
They gleamed in the dim tavern light, whistling through the air with deadly precision.
Shhk!
In less than a second, the chains pierced straight through the chests and skulls of the three resisting mercenaries. No time to scream, no time to fight back. One dropped with eyes wide in shock, another gurgled as the light left his eyes, and the last collapsed without a sound.
Their bodies hit the ground with dull thuds, blood spreading out in thick puddles beneath them.
Makima exhaled softly, her golden chains retracting and vanishing beneath her coat once again.
She turned back to Antares, smiling brightly.
"All done."
----
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