NOVEL SIMPLE 056 – She, Who Rose From Death Again
The Gillette siblings, now a nostalgic memory, were known as "Gillette of Unparalleled Talent."
During the approximately one hundred days I spent with those twins, me, Euphemia Grimwood, was killed more than five hundred times. Truly, to kill such a lovely girl with magic more than five times a day is nothing short of extraordinary madness.
Slashing, crushing, blasting, burning, chopped into pieces, running over, thrown inside a ball of fire... I was killed in every possible way. Those twins, with great delight, day after day, continued to kill Euphemia Grimwood with every kind of magic imaginable.
What was somewhat intriguing was that suffocation, for instance, didn't work. Even when thrown into a giant water bubble created by magic and left there for a while, I didn't feel particularly distressed, nor did I suffer from lack of oxygen. I didn't even lose consciousness.
Poisoning, stabbing, strangulation... none of these seemed very effective either. Well, to be fair, nothing seemed effective since I couldn't die anyway, but poison truly had no effect, a little stabbing couldn't even hinder my activities, and even when strangled, I didn't lose consciousness, so it was less effective than, say, cutting off all of my limbs at once.
Ah, what nostalgic memories.
When leaving the Escard territory, almost as an afterthought, I made the twins' heads explode, but honestly, I didn't hold that much grudge against them since their experiments gave me valuable information regarding my absolute immortality. Of course, they weren't desirable companions, but... those twins couldn't simply be left alone.
At least, that's what I thought.
For many nobles and knights, magic is a means to an end. With stronger magic, more options arise. Strength brings about more possibilities and reduces the things one cannot do. It allows one to avoid injustices.
However, the Gillette siblings were different.
Those twins merely wanted to study and refine magic and sorcery.
Anyway.
As Lex Asuka signaled the start, I began to walk leisurely, and Randall Kruger moved only after confirming that I was really just walking.
Without taking a strong step, just by bounding lightly, the lion beastman could instantly erase several steps of distance.
Of course, I couldn't tell what had happened.
Not to mention the demon beings like Junos, but even the 'Anti-Lion Alliance' werewolf tribe, supposedly inferior to Junos in many ways, their movements were too fast for me to follow with my eyes.
I couldn't see or feel the Lion King's movements.
Then, there was a dull sound.
Before I knew it, my back was roughly kicked, and I was sent flying straight into the palace door in my path, smashing through it and being thrown outside.
"What a bore. Despite all that confidence, she had no plan. Her strength is exactly as it appears. Just a mere human girl."
Randall, holding my severed head in his right hand, muttered as he looked outside the door. His tone was truly dissatisfied, and it could be inferred that he had some expectations for me.
"...What a waste of time."
Muttering to himself, the Lion King glanced at my severed head—he probably did it casually, without any meaning—and immediately widened his eyes.
If my severed head were to smile, it would surely surprise him.
I was killed by the Gillette siblings five hundred times.
There's no way I wouldn't have experienced being decapitated.
I know what will happen.
Even if a human is decapitated, they still live a little.
...Well, what constitutes "living" is up for debate.
Soon after that "little bit" of time passed, my severed head disappeared from Randall's hand. Literally vanished.
And then—my lovely head appeared on Euphemia Grimwood's body.
I have no idea what principle or phenomenon this is.
But even if I'm blown to smithereens or crushed into minced meat, I regain myself like this. There's no pain, and... well, not much fear.
Recognizing myself lying face down, I stood up, confirmed that Euphemia Grimwood was outside the palace, and ignored the shocked soldiers standing on either side of the door.
I stood up, looked back leisurely, and showed the Lion King, who was wide-eyed inside, the same smile once again.
"What's wrong, Randall? I'm alive and outside the palace. If it was boring, I apologize, but the game is my victory."
If I'm alive and outside the door, it's my victory.
No matter what, I'm bound to win. After all, Euphemia Grimwood doesn't die.
...Well, it depends on the definition of "alive."
And then.
For some reason, I was invited to Randall's dinner—or rather, I ended up having a meal in the palace—where I had the opportunity to talk with the Lion King.
If I were to express my impression, Randall is truly not suitable as a "king". This man is the boss of a "pack," not a king of a "country."
Well, if this is supposed to be the kingdom of beastmen, then there's nothing I should specifically mention, but there are dissenting voices among the beastmen, and the issue lies elsewhere. That's irrelevant to my opinion.
If left unchecked, things will go bad for them.
And the Beast King won't let that happen.
So Lex and Brandon won't choose to leave things as they are.
There is no compromise, only each individual's way of being.
I once told the Yunofeliza tribe to "just run away," but I couldn't bring myself to say the same lines to Lex, Brandon, or the other beastmen.
"You truly are a ridiculous little girl."
Randall said that while cheerfully drinking wine and pouring the same wine for me. As long as he behaves like this, he doesn't seem like a bad guy, and in reality, Randall probably isn't truly evil.
If this man weren't so strong, this wouldn't have become such a troublesome matter.
Well, who knows. Maybe it would've been the same.
Usually, the boss of a pack is eventually ousted by the next generation.
"I've lost in game. This might be the first time I've laughed so much losing to someone. I, Randall, permit your stay, Euphemia Grimwood. Play around here for a while. If there's something you want to see or someone you want to talk to, just do it. If anything happens, tell Asuka."
He gulped down his drink, laughed heartily, patted his silent son Garland on the back, and the snake-man Oren watched it all with a serious expression.
If this were an event in some tribe or small settlement, I might have laughed and poured Randall some more wine.
It's a bit regrettable.
Just a bit.
