Let's Train Heroine - Chapter 123

Chapter 123: Heroine Gave a Cruel Punishment
“Ugh…”

For now, the punishment for the traitor was complete. Lucan had felt it was necessary to hit this man, so achieving this small goal was satisfactory.

Lucan stood up, his breath steady, eyes cold and calculating as he assessed the remaining ruffians.

“Subdue him!” One of the ruffians, likely their leader, barked out the command. The others surged forward.

Three of them came at him first, knives gleaming menacingly in the low light. Lucan’s body moved on instinct. The first man slashed wildly, aiming for Lucan’s throat, but he easily dodged the strike, his head tilting just out of reach.

The second attacker lunged, his knife aimed at Lucan’s stomach. Lucan’s hand shot out, catching the man’s wrist in a vice-like grip. With a swift motion, Lucan twisted, bones cracking under the pressure as the knife clattered to the floor. The man screamed, but it was cut short as Lucan’s free hand grabbed his head and, with a force that seemed effortless, drove it into the nearby table. The wood splintered under the impact, and the man’s body went limp, blood pooling under his shattered skull.

The third ruffian faltered, seeing his companions so brutally dispatched. But before he could even consider retreating, Lucan’s leg shot out in a powerful kick. The force was so great that it lifted the man off his feet and sent him crashing into the wall, his body crumpling like a ragdoll. The man’s chest caved in from the impact, a sickening crunch echoing through the pub.

Lucan turned back to the others, his expression unchanging. “Anyone else?”

The remaining ruffians, now visibly trembling, exchanged fearful glances. The sight of their comrades being torn apart with such ease had shattered whatever resolve they had. But the leader, stubborn or perhaps simply foolish, snarled and gestured for them to continue the assault.

“Cowards! It’s just one man! Surround him! Take him down!”

Lucan shook his head, almost pitying them. “You really should’ve listened.”

They rushed him in a disorganized mob, desperate to overwhelm him with sheer numbers. Lucan moved with lethal precision. One ruffian tried to grab him from behind, but Lucan spun around, his elbow connecting with the man’s jaw. Teeth shattered and blood sprayed as the man collapsed, clutching his ruined face.

Another attacker lunged at him with a club, but Lucan sidestepped the swing effortlessly. Before the man could react, Lucan drove his fist into his stomach, the blow so powerful it lifted him off the ground. The man gasped for air, eyes wide with pain and shock, before Lucan finished him with a brutal uppercut that snapped his neck.

The floor was now slick with blood, the crimson liquid seeping into the cracks between the wooden planks. Lucan’s boots left red footprints as he moved, his movements fluid and unhurried.

One of the ruffians, panicking, threw a knife at Lucan. The blade spun through the air, but Lucan easily caught it mid-flight. Without even looking at the attacker, he hurled the knife back with twice the force, the blade burying itself deep in the man’s chest. The ruffian staggered back, hands clawing at the hilt protruding from his chest before he collapsed in a lifeless heap.

The remaining men were frozen in place, their eyes wide with terror. They had come here expecting an easy mark, a simple priest they could overpower and hand over for a quick payday. Instead, they had walked into a nightmare.

Lucan’s gaze fell on the leader, the one who had ordered the attack. The man visibly flinched under Lucan’s piercing stare, his bravado crumbling. “W-wait! Please, I didn’t want to do this! It was Kerry, she forced me! I had no choice!”

Lucan’s expression remained cold, “You always have a choice. You chose poorly.”

The leader’s eyes widened as Lucan approached, his steps slow and deliberate. “No, please! I’ll do anything you tell! I’ll—”

Before he could finish his plea, Lucan grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground effortlessly. The man’s hands clawed at Lucan’s arm, but his grip was like iron.

“P-please… I’m sorry…”

Lucan tightened his grip, the man’s breath coming in ragged gasps.

With a final, crushing squeeze, Lucan snapped the man’s neck. The body went limp, and Lucan tossed it aside like a broken toy. It hit the ground with a dull thud, joining the growing pile of corpses.

The last few ruffians, who had been too paralyzed with fear to attack, finally broke. They turned and fled, tripping over each other in their desperation to escape. But Lucan wasn’t done. He moved with lightning speed, cutting off their escape route.

One man, seeing no other option, swung a chair at Lucan. But the priest caught it mid-swing, ripping it out of the man’s hands and smashing it across his face. The wood splintered, and the man went down in a spray of blood and teeth.

Another ruffian tried to scramble under a table, but Lucan grabbed him by the ankle, dragging him out. The man screamed, kicking wildly, but Lucan’s grip was unyielding. He swung the man around like a ragdoll, slamming him into the wall with bone-shattering force.

The last ruffian, a young man barely out of his teens, backed away, hands raised in a futile gesture of surrender. “Please… I didn’t want this… I just needed the money…”

With a swift motion, Lucan struck, his hand driving into the boy’s chest with enough force to stop his heart. The young man’s eyes went wide, a look of disbelief on his face as he slumped to the ground, lifeless.

Lucan stood amidst the bloody place. He wiped the blood from his hands on a nearby cloth, his expression calm.

He walked toward the exit. Outside, the cool night air greeted him. As for his friend Terra, when he wake up and see the bloody mess, he would ran away and never going to show himself in front of him again.

“Kerry… Well she is troublesome woman,” Lucan muttered to himself. He need to find her and end her life. However, Maris might do this before him.

—

Kerry, a woman of immense girth with a face marred by old scars and a misshapen nose, sat in a dimly lit tavern, greedily shoveling food into her mouth. The table before her was laden with half-eaten dishes, greasy remnants of her feast. She chewed noisily, her focus solely on the next bite, completely oblivious to the world around her.

As she reached for another chunk of roasted meat, a shadow fell across the table. Kerry paused, her greasy fingers hovering over the food. She looked up, her beady eyes narrowing as they met the serene, yet unnervingly cold gaze of Maris. The Saint stood there, her presence almost ethereal in the dingy surroundings of the tavern.

Kerry scowled, her lips curling in contempt. “What do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy here?”

Maris didn’t respond with words. Instead, she stepped closer, her delicate fingers reaching out with an eerie grace. Before Kerry could react, Maris’s hand clamped down on her head, her fingers digging into the matted strands of Kerry’s hair.

Kerry tried to struggle, but it was futile. The moment Maris’s touch made contact, a wave of overwhelming power surged through Kerry’s mind. Her scowl faded, her eyes glazing over as she felt something intangible being ripped from her consciousness.

Maris’s grip tightened as she whispered softly, a strange light emanating from her fingertips. The words were indecipherable, but their effect was immediate. Kerry’s thoughts began to unravel, her memories dissolving like mist in the morning sun. Every detail, every recollection of her life, vanished into a void.

When Maris finally released her, Kerry slumped forward, her eyes vacant. She was no longer the cruel, greedy woman she had been moments before. Now, she was nothing more than an empty shell, devoid of any memory, any thought, any sense of self. She stared blankly at the table, her hands limply resting in her lap, unaware of the world around her, forever lost in a mindless abyss.

Maris turned and walked away, leaving Kerry as a hollow doll, a pitiful creature who would never again understand what it meant to think, to feel, to remember.