Chapter 16 Look at you, you are shaking with excitement

Avira’s hand grasped Sylvia’s. The cold crossbow was forcibly raised by an irresistible force.

The arrowhead precisely aimed at the prisoner below in the courtyard, who was wailing. Sylvia’s hand trembled.

Trembled uncontrollably. The crossbow’s sight spun wildly in her vision.

Unable to lock onto any target at all. She wasn’t afraid of killing.

What frightened her was the sister beside her. This hopeless lunatic who treated torture as a game.

“You see, you’re trembling with excitement.” Avira’s chin lightly rested on the hollow of Sylvia’s shoulder.

Warm breath blew against her ear. Sending a shiver crawling down her spine.

“Your heart’s pounding so fast.” “Don’t be afraid, it’s like this the first time. I’ll help you.”

Avira’s tone was so considerate. So understanding.

But every word that fell from her mouth perfectly, precisely, and cruelly distorted every fear signal Sylvia’s body sent out.

This wasn’t excitement! It was a convulsion of fear born deep within her soul!

Sylvia screamed madly inside her heart. But not a single word escaped.

“You’re still too weak, you can’t even hold the bow steady.”

Avira let go of her hand. Gently stroked Sylvia’s head.

“Forget it, let big sister handle it.” “You watch from here.”

She curled her lips, revealing a purely twisted, sick smile. “This is the appetizer I’ve specially prepared for you.”

After saying that, Avira turned around.

“Clang—”

She drew the sword “Lament” from her waist. It was a slim sword, pitch-black with blood-red runes etched onto the blade.

The moment the blade was revealed, the surrounding air emitted faint, submissive whimpers.

***

The next second, Avira leapt down from the watchtower.

Without using any flight ability, she fell straight toward the hard stone courtyard below. Her black cavalry uniform sliced through the air in a sharp arc of death.

“Bang!”

Avira landed firmly. The stone slabs beneath her feet shattered like spiderwebs.

She didn’t even bend her knees. The prisoners in the courtyard stared in terror at the killing god descending from the sky.

After a brief dead silence, chaos erupted like an explosion.

“It’s Her Highness the Eldest Princess!”

“Run! Run for your lives!”

“Mercy! Your Highness, have mercy!”

Screams and cries. They scattered and fled.

Avira ignored their wails completely. She extended her crimson tongue.

Licked her lips lightly. “Let the game begin.”

She moved. Her figure turned into a blurred streak of blood-red.

In an instant, she charged into the crowd. A one-sided massacre began.

Sylvia stood atop the tower. Her stomach churned like a stormy sea, bile rising bitterly in her throat.

She saw Avira weaving through the crowd. Moving at the limit of speed.

Every flash of her sword was accompanied by a fading life. No fierce resistance.

No desperate struggles.

The prisoners under Avira’s blade were as fragile as glass. The fleeing figures kept dropping one after another.

The cries and pleas abruptly ceased. A heavy stench of blood rose with the night wind.

Harshly invaded her nostrils. Avira’s movements—

Rather than fighting, they were like a solo dance.

Every step’s landing. Every swing of the sword.

Overflowed with violent grace. This was a bloody ballet dedicated to her little sister.

A death show full of spectacle. Sylvia clamped her mouth tightly shut.

Suppressing herself from vomiting. She wanted to close her eyes, but her body refused to obey.

Stiffened in place, forcing her to witness everything unfolding below. Minutes passed, or maybe just tens of seconds.

The courtyard returned to suffocating silence. Apart from Avira, no living thing remained standing.

Blood dyed the ground red, composing a grim painting. Avira stood in the center of the blood pool.

Shook off the last drop of blood on her blade. She sheathed “Lament,” then leapt lightly.

Gracefully jumped back onto the watchtower. She approached Sylvia and stretched out a finger.

Gently lifted her sister’s chin, forcing her to look toward the courtyard below. Avira pointed at a corpse especially conspicuous in the blood.

It was the prisoner who had looked up at Sylvia before.

“All cleaned up.”

Avira wiped a bit of blood from her cheek that had appeared unnoticed. Her smile was as bright as ever.

“Sis, don’t you feel much calmer now?”

Sylvia’s mind went blank. She followed Avira’s pointed direction.

Looked at that distant yet clear corpse.

Then glanced at her sister’s innocent smile. A kind of fear she’d never experienced before crept icy cold up her skull.

A madwoman!

A thorough and utter madwoman!

Just as Sylvia felt herself about to suffocate, Avira did something even more incomprehensible.

She took out a complete set from her storage ring.

A small round table draped with a pristine white tablecloth.

Two chairs carved with rose patterns on the backs.

A delicate bone china tea set. And a three-tiered stand filled with exquisite pastries.

In this watchtower of the abandoned castle, filled with death and decay.

Amidst the thick, inescapable stench of blood, with a full view of the massacre scene below,

Avira elegantly arranged an afternoon tea. She pulled out a chair for Sylvia.

Pressed her shoulders to seat her. Then picked up the gilded teapot.

Poured a cup of red tea.

The tea was a translucent deep red.

In the dim light, almost indistinguishable from blood.

“Here, have some tea, moisten your throat.” Avira pushed the teacup in front of Sylvia.

Then lifted her own cup and took a gentle sip. A satisfied smile played on her lips.

Tilting her head, she stared at Sylvia. With a tone that seemed to seek praise, she softly asked:

“Sis, do you feel better now?”

Crash—

Sylvia’s sanity completely shattered. She looked at the cup of red tea before her.

Looked at the pastries on the tiered stand, appearing fresh and luscious.

Looked at Avira’s smile, both innocent and cruel.

She felt fear.

A fear far greater than when she had faced thousands charging on the battlefield alone. At least then, the malice was clear.

But now, it was the deepest, most twisted madness wrapped in the sugar-coated words of “love”!

She wanted to say no, she wanted to scream. She wanted to overturn the table.

Then flee this cursed place at all costs.

But she didn’t dare.

She knew clearly.

If she showed even the slightest resistance or disgust, next time, Avira would only prepare a more “interesting,” more “exciting” “game.”

Great terror rendered her speechless.

Her body’s survival instinct made the choice for her. She stiffly nodded at Avira.

The movement was small. But clear in Avira’s eyes.

“Wonderful!”

Seeing her nod, Avira clapped happily.

“I knew you’d like it! This method really works!” She leaned closer.

Rubbed affectionately against Sylvia’s cheek.

“Since you like it so much, then we’ll play every week, alright?”

“Next time, I’ll catch a few knights from the Holy Radiance Church to use as targets!”

“Their screams will definitely be much more beautiful than these trash!”

Sylvia’s pupils constricted sharply. Every week?

Using knights as targets?

She felt her world turn completely black and white.

Her life no longer had the option to lie flat. Only to lie face down.

Avira, seeing her sister’s “excited” speechlessness, became even happier.

She picked up a strawberry tart. Held it to Sylvia’s lips.

“Here, open your mouth.”

“This is your reward.”

“Tha… thank you, sister…”