Then, what appeared in the blood-soaked village was an extremely fierce clash of offense and defense.
A dense rain of blood-red arrows poured down from the bow in Bavanzi's hands, falling upon Tristan like a torrential storm. Yet Tristan, just like when he had previously fought Bavanzi, stood unmoving in place, plucking the bowstring without even shifting a step. From his bow shot out countless blades of sound, easily dispersing every single attack Bavanzi unleashed.
"It seems you haven't learned your lesson. Attacks of this level can't harm me in the slightest."
Tristan smiled as his fingers moved faster and faster across the strings. The frequency of the sound blades he released rapidly increased. The flood of blood-red arrows from Bavanzi was shattered at visible speed, and the boundary of destruction pressed closer and closer toward her.
Though Bavanzi fought with all her might, the gap in skill between them was insurmountable. A sharp sound cut through the air—"puff"—and blood blossomed from her hand. Though she quickly regenerated, her arm was now noticeably slimmer than before.
…Only that much of her body destroyed? To turn one's flesh into blood like this—what a cheat.
Taking in the scene, Tristan mused to himself.
Though she was also an Archer, and her skill fell short of his, meaning he could suppress her, the vast difference in endurance made killing her extremely troublesome.
It seemed, if he wanted to finish this quickly, he would need to apply a little strategy.
"You're still using the blood-shaping trick from before?"
Tristan suddenly spoke:
"Foolish. I've already shown you—this move may prevent me from killing you instantly, but all I need to do is keep slicing your flesh with sound blades infused with mana. Your blood will be drained until you're completely destroyed."
Even as he suppressed Bavanzi, Tristan continued talking endlessly:
"Yet I can't help but wonder—why aren't you dodging this time? It wouldn't change your fate, but at least you could last a little longer, couldn't you? Or is it—"
His eyes suddenly widened:
"Is it because you're worried about the children behind you, so you dare not move? How strange. You don't strike me as someone who'd care about such trash."
At his words, Bavanzi's heart skipped a beat.
"But in that case, perhaps I don't need to stand here exchanging fire with you after all. Unlike last time, I'm not bound by any contract to remain still."
Seeing the sudden cruel smile on Tristan's face, chills spread through Bavanzi's body.
The next moment, Tristan dashed sideways, evading her arrow rain. His right hand flew across the bowstring twice, releasing three sound blades toward the children behind Bavanzi.
Unlike before, these blades carried far more mana. Normally invisible, now their trajectories shone clearly with condensed power.
This method of attack made them easier to dodge, which was why Tristan had never used it before. Servants could evade—but those children never could.
Realizing his intent instantly, Bavanzi cut off her barrage, hurling several concentrated arrows of mana to intercept the blades. But her speed was far slower than Tristan's. She barely stopped two; for the last, she had no choice but to throw herself in front of a child, taking the strike with her own body.
And because the large sound blade had such piercing force, it would cut through her to kill the child behind. So Bavanzi gritted her teeth, burning even more of her blood to resist, while reaching back to drag the child aside, flinging him out of the blade's path.
"Look. The blood you spent to block this one attack equals dozens of cuts from me. And now, while you're forced onto full defense, you've no strength left to strike back, have you?"
Tristan reappeared atop a low roof, smiling at the gasping Bavanzi.
"Well, since you've shown such a glaring weakness, it won't take me much effort to finish you. Hmph, how foolish you are—foolish as that drunken Hassan. Once you're dead, the children behind you will die anyway. I've already told you your ending—will you still insist on dancing in chains with me?"
"—You… damn you!"
Bavanzi could not help but roar at his vile words.
"What a soft and powerless rebuke. No bite at all."
Tristan shook his head with a sigh:
"Besides, perhaps you should look behind you. Did you really protect those children? Didn't you notice? When I plucked just now, it was twice up and twice down—a total of four strikes."
At his words, Bavanzi froze. She turned, only to see one child staring blankly at the fresh wound across his waist.
"Big Sister Bavanzi… my lower body hurts so much…"
He barely finished before his upper half slid forward, collapsing to the ground with a thud.
"Ahhhhhhh—!"
The sight drove the other children into terrified chaos. Screaming, they scrambled in all directions, fleeing wildly.
"No! Stop! Don't scatter! If you scatter, I can't protect you—"
Bavanzi shouted, but the terrified children could not be stopped. Except for a few frozen by sheer fear, the rest fled blindly.
This was exactly what Tristan wanted. He plucked his bow again, sending sound blades after them.
Now that they fled in all directions, Bavanzi could no longer shield them all. Soon, a second child, then a third, were torn apart.
When the last fell, Bavanzi turned, screaming hysterically:
"—Tristan! Why target them?! Come at me if you have the guts!"
"Oh? Why so angry?" Tristan said coolly.
"Don't you think you were too restrained before, fighting me? I'm simply helping you shed those burdens. Besides… with hands as stained as yours, what right have you to scold me?"
Bavanzi faltered.
"I can smell it, you know," Tristan said with a smile. "The stench of blood in your mana. It takes a great deal of killing to reek like that. Just by sensing it roughly, I'd wager your kill count far exceeds mine."
Bavanzi opened her mouth to protest—but no words came.
Tristan went on:
"So that's what puzzles me. You, an executioner through and through—what are you pretending for? Protecting others to look noble? How laughable. I'm so sad. Truly, so very sad…"
Feigning grief, he plucked his strings melodramatically.
"But if you insist, I don't mind helping rid you of the rest of these burdens. Look—there are still a few children behind you."
His gaze shifted again toward the survivors. He raised his hand—
But before he could release the strings, a blood-red blade suddenly burst from the rooftop beneath him, thrusting straight for his throat.
"?!"
Tristan reacted instantly, flipping off the roof to avoid it. He slipped into the alleys, but another blood blade pierced out, grazing his arm despite his evasion.
"Tch. Using a corpse's blood as your tool?" Tristan clicked his tongue. "That's far nastier than me, don't you think?"
Bavanzi clenched her teeth and said nothing, manipulating the blood strewn throughout the village to hound him relentlessly.
So that was why the fairies and humans had hated her so deeply. Only after bonding with the children, and now facing Tristan, did she realize just how revolting an executioner she had been.
"Found your opening."
Tristan suddenly sprang from between the ruined houses, unleashing a torrent of sound blades that instantly engulfed Bavanzi.
"Ungh—!"
Caught off guard in her self-reproach, she was shredded before she could react. Even transforming into blood could not save her, for the relentless blades kept slicing away at her reserves. Worse still, she stubbornly tried to shield the children behind her with her blood, hastening her depletion.
When the blades finally faded, Bavanzi's body had shrunk further, reduced to the frame of a child barely seven or eight years old.
"Looks like you've no fight left."
Satisfied, Tristan nodded. He raised his hand, ready to finish her.
At this point, he ignored the surviving children entirely. His true goal had always been to slay Bavanzi; all else had been mere manipulation to break her spirit and hasten her defeat.
Yet just then, something in his peripheral vision caught his attention. He lowered his hand abruptly, abandoning the finishing blow, and turned toward the village exit.
"All right! Mordred! Their reinforcements have arrived! We're retreating!"
From afar came Mordred's curse:
"Hah? Are you kidding? I was just about to finish off their Servant!"
"Stay if you want to die!" Tristan snapped back, fleeing without hesitation. Mordred, though reluctant, followed after having already severed Arash's arm and nearly cornered him.
Moments later, Guinevere and the others rushed back into the village. What they found was a scene of hell on earth—and Bavanzi collapsed unconscious on the ground.