The Beheaded Men were a anomaly-class of monsters, categorized by their ranks. At the bottom were the ordinary Beheaded Men, still dangerous but manageable for skilled adventurers. Above them stood the Beheaded Kings, far more powerful and relentless. But at the very top of the hierarchy were the Beheaded Emperors.
Esdeath had calculated that the likelihood of encountering a Beheaded King or Emperor was close to zero. She had considered it a risk, but not an immediate threat. However, fate seemed to have other plans. The figure standing before them was no ordinary Beheaded Man, nor a King. It was an Emperor—a high-level anomaly-class monster.
Despite his fearsome rank, the Beheaded Emperor didn't immediately charge at them. He stood eerily still, his body a grotesque testament to centuries of experience. His head, clutched tightly in his right hand, bore open, lifeless eyes that still seemed to perceive everything around him.
But something about him was different. His body was riddled with deep scars, the flesh cracked and torn as if he had barely survived countless battles. His tattered and decayed garments told a story of a long life spent on the battlefield. Despite his rank, he didn't exude the overwhelming presence expected of a Beheaded Emperor.
He was worn, his aura faint and unsteady. Age and time had taken their toll on him, a reminder that no creature—no matter how powerful—was truly immortal. This Beheaded Emperor was in the final stages of his existence, his strength diminished to a fraction of what it once was.
His injuries told another story—a recent one. Deep gashes and burns marred his body, signs of a violent encounter with a foe strong enough to force even an Emperor into retreat. It was clear he had barely escaped, retreating to this cave to recover and hide.
Even with his diminished state, his presence was unsettling. The low intelligence typical of anomaly-class creatures was still present, but there was a glimmer of understanding in his empty gaze. He didn't attack, not because of hesitation or fear, but because he lacked the capability. He was aware of his weakness, of the futility of engaging in a battle he was certain to lose.
"Umm... Fable?" Maruti called out, squinting at the figure before her. "I see a zombie-like man holding his head like he's about to lick his own stomach. What kind of monster is this?" she asked, her tone half-confused and half-amused.
She waited for a response. None came.
"Fable?" she tried again, her voice louder this time as she turned to look over her shoulder.
But her heart nearly jumped out of her chest when she saw Esdeath slumped unconscious on her back.
"Wha—?! Are you kidding me right now?!" Maruti blurted out, panic flashing across her face.
Esdeath had already been pale from blood loss, her breathing shallow. She must have been holding on with sheer willpower. Even unconscious, her grip on Maruti was surprisingly strong, as if her body refused to let go, even in this state.
Her gaze snapped back to the monster ahead of them—the Beheaded Emperor. It stood motionless, still clutching its severed head. Its glowing eyes stared unblinkingly at her, which only made the situation weirder. "Why isn't he attacking?"
Maruti's mind raced. She remembered Esdeath's earlier words about anomaly monsters and how unpredictable they could be. "Could it be... he doesn't want to fight?"
She took a slow, cautious step forward, her heart pounding. The Beheaded Emperor didn't move.
She took another step, half-expecting him to lunge at her. Instead, he took a step back. Then another. Finally, he shifted to the side, almost like he was... making way for her?
For a moment, she just stared at him, unsure if she should laugh or cry. "I thought you were some big scary villain," she muttered under her breath. "Turns out, you're just a misunderstood softie, huh?"
Her voice softened, her earlier panic now giving way to something that felt almost... respectful?
Maruti walked closer, her steps hesitant but steady. The Beheaded Emperor stayed still, his imposing figure no longer feeling as threatening as it did a moment ago.
When she was just a few feet away, Maruti stopped. She straightened her back and gave the monster a clumsy but heartfelt salute. "Such a noble guy, even with no head. Truly, you're a gentleman among monsters."
Then, with a wave of her hand and a bittersweet smile, Maruti added, "You're a real example of how not everyone is bad. But too bad, this is goodbye."
Just as she turned to leave, a hollow, ghost-like voice echoed through the air.
"Not... beheaded guy... Penetrator... Penetrator…"
Maruti froze mid-step, her eyes widening in shock. Slowly, she turned back to face the Beheaded Emperor. His severed head, still held firmly in his decayed hand, was staring at her with dull but conscious eyes.
"You can speak?" she blurted out, blinking rapidly. "Wait... is your name Penetrator?"
The head's jaw moved stiffly as it rasped again, "Penetrator..."
Maruti stood there in silence for a second, processing the absurdity of the situation. Then, as the realization hit her, a wide grin spread across her face. With a playful thumbs up, she replied, "Nice to meet you, Penetrator! I'm predictor, but you can call me Maruti, and this here is Esdeath!" She gestured toward the unconscious girl on her back with a little shrug.
For a fleeting moment, She just unexpectedly made a friend but she couldn't stop here now.
As she turned and continued forward, carrying Esdeath on her back, she couldn't help but glance over her shoulder one last time. The Beheaded Emperor remained where he stood, watching them disappear into the dim light of the cave, his severed head tilted slightly—as if to say farewell.
Maruti shook her head in disbelief. "What the heck just happened? First, Fable passes out, and now the big bad monster just lets me walk past? This is definitely going in the 'weirdest days of my life' list."
After Maruti and Esdeath left the cave, the Beheaded Emperor watched their silhouettes disappear into the darkness before turning around and heading deeper into the right side of the cavern. It turned out, He actually digged a big hole in the cave and made a small hideout for living.
Nestled against the stone walls, he had carved out a surprisingly well-organized living area. There was a crude but sturdy wooden table with matching chairs, along with makeshift shelves holding piles of weathered books and wooden armor pieces. The faint smell of damp wood and dust hung in the air. For an anomaly-class monster, known for their lack of intelligence, this setup was unexpectedly impressive. It hinted at a mind that had overcome its limits—a genius, perhaps, among his kind.
The Beheaded Emperor trudged to his table, the sound of his uneven, shuffling steps echoing softly. He carefully placed his head on the table's surface, angling it to face forward, while his body sat down heavily in the chair. The movements were slow and deliberate, as though even this routine took great effort.
Once seated, his head began to mutter softly. "Mar... u... ti... Es-death... Maruti... Esdeath..."
His voice was low and raspy, almost like the faint rustling of dry leaves. Over and over, he repeated their names, his lifeless eyes staring blankly at the wooden grains of the table. For creatures like him, remembering something as specific as a name required immense effort. His fractured mind worked tirelessly to imprint these two names into his memory.
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It was close to 3 a.m.,The capital city of the Anastasia Kingdom, Celsius, stood surrounded by its mighty walls, their imposing height a testament to the kingdom's strength. At the main gate, two guards sat lazily slouched in their chairs, snoring softly.
Dreams of peaceful days and warm meals danced in their heads, but the tranquility shattered as a piercing scream cut through the stillness.
"Emergency! Emergency! We're in danger!" a frantic, yet elegant voice cried out, jolting the guards awake.
Their eyes fluttered open, panic gripping them as they jumped to their feet. "Wha—Who's there?" one guard stammered, his heart racing.
Blinking through his daze, he saw a young teenage girl sprinting toward them. Her short hair was messy, her muscular build suggesting a life of physical hardship. On her back, she carried another girl, limp and unconscious.
"Stop right there!" the second guard shouted, stepping forward to block her path. "You're not allowed to enter without an identification card!"
The running girl, none other than Maruti, came to an abrupt halt, panting heavily. Sweat dripped from her forehead as she struggled to catch her breath.
"We... we were attacked by a large group of beasts!" she gasped, forcing the words out. "Our party... we didn't stand a chance... Everyone else was killed. We barely escaped with our lives!"
Her voice trembled, and made up a fake story, though her story was entirely fabricated, the raw exhaustion on her face made it believable. Maruti wasn't a natural liar like esdeath but she still had acting skills.
One of the guards stepped closer, his sharp eyes scanning both girls. Maruti's injuries were evident—scratches, bruises, and torn clothing—but it was the unconscious girl on her back who caught his attention.
The guard's breath hitched at the sight of Esdeath. Her pale skin was sickly, her body covered in blood and dirt. The sheer amount of injuries made his stomach churn.
"Holy hell!" he muttered, his face paling. "Her condition is awful!"
He turned away for a moment, fighting the urge to throw up.
"Damn it," the other guard muttered, shaking his head. "This is why we need stricter rules for adventurers. Sixteen may be the age of adulthood, but they're still kids! They shouldn't be facing those kinds of monsters!"
The first guard sighed deeply, his gaze softening as he looked at the battered girls. "Poor things. They must've just turned adults recently. Go ahead—you're free to enter. But hurry. Find a healer. There's a skilled one named Scarce in the market district, though her services cost money. If you're broke, take her to the government healing facility."
He stepped aside, gesturing toward the open gate. "Be quick. Every second counts for her."
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Scarce was a Rank C healer, a decent position in the healing community. Healers were always in high demand, which often made them wealthy. Scarce was no exception. She owned a small shop where she sold healing potions and provided treatment.
The shop wasn't anything extravagant—just a modest wooden house tucked away in a quiet corner of Celsius. It was small, but it served her needs. Customers rarely arrived in droves, but when they did come, they often paid well, which kept her pockets full and her life comfortable.
At the moment, Scarce, a woman in her mid-twenties, was sound asleep. Her soft snores filled the room as she lay bundled under a blanket, enjoying the peaceful silence of the early hours.
Then came the knocking.
**Knock… knock… knock…**
The sound startled her awake. She groaned, rubbing her eyes as she sat up in bed. Her eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, and she let out a long yawn.
"Who in the world is knocking at this hour?" she grumbled, her voice groggy.
Dragging herself out of bed, she shuffled toward the door, her steps slow and heavy. When she opened it, her tired eyes were met with the sight of a disheveled teenage girl standing outside.
It was Maruti, her short hair matted with dirt, her clothes torn and stained with mud. On her back was an unconscious Esdeath, pale and battered, her injuries looking worse in the dim glow of the night.
"It's urgent! We need healing!" Maruti shouted, her voice loud and desperate.
Scarce frowned, her irritation flaring. Her gaze swept over Maruti's ragged appearance, and with her years of experience, she immediately pegged her as a barbarian.
Healers like Scarce were known for their pride, and she was no exception. Her skills were in high demand, and she wasn't one to waste her time on anyone who couldn't pay.
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" she snapped, her tone dripping with disdain. "The shop is closed. Come back tomorrow with money. I don't do charity, and I certainly don't do credit. If you're broke, head to the government healing facility!"
Scarce's voice was sharp and arrogant, and she reached for the door, ready to slam it shut.
But before she could, Maruti raised her hand and stopped the door in its tracks. In her hand was a small pouch, the faint clinking of coins echoing in the quiet night. When she opened it slightly, the soft glow of silver coins spilled out, gleaming under the moonlight.
Scarce's sharp eyes caught the shine, and her demeanor changed instantly. Her mouth curved into a wide, eager smile as she rubbed her palms together.
"Hehehe… well, although the shop is technically closed, I can make an exception for kind customers like you!"