Dantalion, having shaken off the clinging Asmodeus, quickly returned to his office.
Seated at his desk, he downed five cans of coffee in a row and fell into deep contemplation.
How could he guide Joanna onto the right path?
“I can’t just send a child’s future to hell just because it’s easier for me.”
Of course, not everyone who ended up in hell was punished.
If that were the case, why would judges and high judges even exist?
But that didn’t mean going to hell was a good thing.
After a moment of thought, Dantalion pulled out a red book and searched for Joanna’s name.
“At least she hasn’t been branded a sinner yet.”
That was a relief. Joanna’s karma wasn’t severe enough to mark her as a sinner.
Cases like this weren’t uncommon—if someone killed a truly despicable person, the severity of their crime was often reduced.
Especially in a world like Joanna’s, where morality was… lacking, to say the least.
Many crimes in her era ended with execution as the punishment.
“Still, I can’t just stand by and let her keep killing.”
Killing sinners was still killing people.
Repetition made people accustomed to things.
If she kept killing, her reasons might start to blur.
If she wasn’t careful, she could end up mistaking murder itself as her right, lost in a narcissistic delusion of grandeur.
“Sitri, got any good ideas?”
“Me?”
Sitri, who was lounging on the office sofa scrolling through social media, looked at him in confusion.
Sipping on a honey-syrup latte, she finally opened her mouth.
“How about just leaving her be? If she’s got potential, we can appoint her as a judge after she dies.”
“A judge, huh…”
It was true that some of the judges in hell had been sinners in their past lives.
Of course, not just any sinner could become a judge.
Would it be right to punish a general who defended his country by killing enemy soldiers?
Would it be fair to label someone evil for eliminating a great villain who ruled over the law and justice itself?
Only a select few with such ambiguous crimes were ever given the opportunity to become judges.
No, that wasn’t the point right now.
“We’re not talking about her dying just yet.”
“That’s too much hassle. Then how about just giving her some advice?”
“…That’s actually not a bad idea.”
Dantalion nodded.
If he wasn’t going to interfere directly, giving advice wouldn’t require a major connection.
He stared at Sitri.
Feeling his gaze, Sitri blinked, still sipping her latte.
She blinked once, twice, then pointed at herself and asked,
“You want me to find the connection?”
“You’re the one who’s good at this kind of thing.”
“Ugh…”
As much as she hated it, she was still the secretary assisting a High Judge.
There was no avoiding it.
Showing clear reluctance, Sitri disappeared into the shadows.
Flash!
Before the rooster even had a chance to crow, Joanna’s body instinctively woke to greet the morning.
Dazed and still half-asleep, she stretched her neck and shoulders, shaking off the drowsiness.
Then, as if it were routine, she moved toward the mirror.
Whoosh!
She turned the mirror around, revealing a hand-drawn portrait of a savior.
Kneeling before it, Joanna pressed her hands together in a respectful prayer.
“May the souls of sinners become your daily bread. And may you protect the peaceful days of the good.”
Of course, Dantalion had never taught her such a prayer.
Why would he even eat sinners’ souls?
He wasn’t some kind of glutton for bizarre delicacies.
This was a prayer Joanna had composed herself, based on her own past experiences.
As she prayed, energy flowed through her body.
Fwoosh.
Like a flower unfurling its petals to meet the sun, an orange-red bloom blossomed within her.
The heat from its petals coursed through her, driving away sleep and filling her with vitality.
“Haaaaa~!”
She finished by stretching, loosening her muscles completely.
Now fully awake, Joanna stepped out of her room.
Just in time, a man was exiting the bathroom.
“Joanna, you’re up early again today!”
The man was Clove, Joanna’s stepfather.
A man with no noble background who had somehow become a knight—his diligence was nothing short of remarkable.
No doubt he had been up early training again…
“Father, I’d recommend wearing something that covers your neck today.”
“Huh? What are you—ah!”
Following Joanna’s gaze, Clove ran his fingers over his neck, eyes widening in shock.
The marks left behind from his night with his beloved wife were still clearly visible.
Completely flustered by the embarrassing revelation, he fumbled for words.
“Well, at least he seems to be getting along well with Mesella.”
Joanna wasn’t particularly embarrassed.
She had spent years in dens of depravity—why would something like this make her blush now?
She simply gave a knowing, amused smile.
“J-Joanna, this is, um, well…”
“I’m glad you and Mother have a good relationship. Don’t worry, I understand. You should go on down.”
“Hmph!
What do you mean, ‘you understand’!
That’s not—”
“Yes, yes, I get it.”
Joanna gave him a little shove.
Clove, being too kind-hearted to push back against his stepdaughter, let himself be moved along.
To be fair, he was also just plain embarrassed.
Once he was gone, Joanna stepped into the bathroom.
After washing up thoroughly, she carried out the next part of her routine—admiring the flower Dantalion had planted within her.
“Joanna~! Time for breakfast~!”
“Yes!”
Hearing Mesella’s voice, she quickly dried off and left the bathroom.
Breakfast was simple: bacon and eggs with bread…
“Well, I tried a new recipe and deep-fried an entire chicken.”
“Oooh!!”
…as an appetizer.
Joanna grabbed a drumstick.
A delicious, slightly reddish glow radiated from it, filling the air with an irresistible aroma.
Chomp!
“Mmm!!”
“Whoa, this is amazing!”
For two people who loved food, the reaction was an absolute success.
Meanwhile, Mesella…
“Honey, say ‘ahhh~’”
She lovingly held out a perfectly deboned piece of chicken to Clove, the husband who had sent her to heaven last night.
Without knowledge of their pasts, they could have been mistaken for the perfect model couple.
“Hahaha! I appreciate it, but… the kid’s watching…”
Clove glanced at Joanna, a bit embarrassed.
But there was nothing to worry about—Joanna was far too focused on dismantling her own chicken to care.
Thanks to that, the couple continued their affectionate moment undisturbed.
After a hearty meal, Joanna and Clove headed to the backyard.
A pristine training ground, not a single loose pebble in sight.
Practice dummies and wooden weapons stood off to one side, but they had no use for them.
“Let’s use real swords today.”
“Haha, thanks to my daughter, I never have to worry about exercising after meals!”
The two of them distanced themselves and drew their swords.
Normally, a father would stop his daughter from sparring with live blades, but…
“She needs that level of ambition!”
Clove, a commoner who had risen to knighthood, was no ordinary man.
If anything, he supported Joanna’s hunger for improvement.
Not to mention, he had a bit of that rural mindset that getting knocked around as a kid built character.
Most importantly, Clove recognized Joanna’s talent.
“Here I come!”
Boom!
Joanna kicked off the ground, closing the distance in an instant.
Her sword shot straight for Clove’s heart.
The fluidity of her movements made it seem like a single, seamless action.
But knights were warriors honed for battle.
“You’ve improved again!”
Anticipating her attack from the initial motion, Clove twisted his body effortlessly.
Joanna’s blade pierced empty air.
Adding strength to his waist, Clove swung his greatsword in a precise arc.
Clang!
“Ugh!?”
Joanna barely managed to retract her sword in time to block.
Her stepfather was a master of strong and heavy swordsmanship, emphasizing raw power and endurance.
Dantalion’s waist-driven horizontal slash sent shockwaves through Joanna’s body.
Ordinarily, a father would hesitate the moment his daughter let out a pained grunt…
“Don’t give up!”
But Clove was far more of a battle maniac than he seemed.
His greatsword came at Joanna from all directions in a relentless assault.
Each strike was as powerful as a charging boar.
Yet, Joanna refused to surrender.
When Clove’s arm overextended just a little too much—
“Now!”
She dropped into a seemingly collapsing stance, using the momentum to propel herself forward with terrifying speed.
Had her sword connected at that moment, it would have been a dangerous strike.
However—
Thud!
“You need to learn to tell if a weakness is real or a trap.”
“Guh!?”
From Joanna’s blind spot, Clove’s knee slammed into her stomach.
The sudden shock caused her grip to falter, and his sword easily knocked hers away.
Joanna struggled to maintain her composure and retreat, but—
Whoosh!
“How about it? Want to keep going?”
“…No. I lost again.”
A chilling wind brushed past her neck.
She sighed, staring at her reflection in the blade of her father’s sword.
Clove smiled as he looked at her.
“I was always told I was talented… but my daughter is a true monster.”
An eleven-year-old girl holding her own against a knight—it was unrealistic.
Especially considering she hadn’t even been wielding a sword since childhood.
However, something nagged at him…
“For some reason, there’s a bloodlust in Joanna’s sword.”
It was odd.
Bloodlust wasn’t something one could manifest at will.
It was something only those who had experienced real killing—and had a natural talent for it—could exude.
So where did Joanna’s bloodlust come from?
“Could it be… she’s a genius who learned it on her own?”
Oh well.
It wasn’t impossible, so Clove dismissed the thought.
It wasn’t like his sweet, kind-hearted daughter could have actually killed someone, right?
If that was the case, Dantalion owed Clove an apology.
Late at night, after Clove had left the house, Joanna made her way to the red-light district.
Wrapped in an old hood, she perched atop a rooftop, scanning the streets with a bored expression.
Drunken men stumbling through the roads.
Prostitutes exhaled smoke as they flirted with passersby.
People laughing raucously, as if the world would end tomorrow.
Watching them, Joanna pondered.
“Is that really fun?”
At its core, indulgence was about breaking free from constraints.
The thrill of doing what one normally wouldn’t dare was intoxicating.
But Joanna, who had seen the filth of depravity up close, didn’t understand it.
After all, when indulgence became the norm, the only thing left at the end was ruin.
Losing interest, she turned her gaze toward a back alley.
“Fugitives don’t walk in broad daylight.”
Of course, the poor had little interest in bounty posters.
The red-light district, full of society’s cast-offs, had far bigger problems to worry about than criminals.
It wasn’t uncommon for someone to be shackled instead of rewarded for reporting a fugitive.
Still, human nature was hard to suppress.
“Found him!”
The guilty always gave themselves away.
Joanna spotted a man with a similar face to her target disappearing into an alley.
She pulled out a bounty poster from her coat.
A man over two meters tall, muscular, brown-haired, with a scar on his cheek.
It was definitely Joachim.
Schlick.
Joanna drew her sword and smeared the prepared mud onto the blade.
The shine disappeared.
Quietly, she descended to the ground and began tailing Joachim.
“Wait, really?
You’ll give me silver just for letting you stay the night?”
“Of course!
And if your service is good, maybe I’ll give you something even better.”
Joachim chuckled crudely, running his fingers over a prostitute’s shoulder.
Two silver coins twirled between his fingers, and greed flickered in the woman’s eyes.
She leaned in closer, pressing against him, and led him further into the alley toward her home.
Joanna watched them enter a run-down house and waited.
“Three to five minutes… That should be enough time.”
She knew when people were most vulnerable.
Counting the seconds with her heartbeat, she approached the house.
Just as she was about to quietly push the door open—
Boom!
The wall exploded.
Joachim burst out from within and swung his sword at Joanna’s shoulder.
“What the hell, you little rat?!”
“Ugh!?”
Clang!
Joanna deflected his blade and leapt back.
Clicking his tongue, Joachim tapped his sword against his shoulder.
“What the hell?
You some noble brat?
You move like you’ve been trained.”
Joanna didn’t answer.
It was a shame her ambush had failed, but she had no intention of backing down.
Her hair turned a sunset hue, and the mud on her blade burned red-hot.
Seeing this, Joachim’s eyes widened in shock.
“W-Wait… Is that aura?!”
For the first time, he hesitated.
Joanna seized the moment, launching forward at full speed.
Her sword cut through the darkness, leaving a crimson afterimage.
However, she had miscalculated something.
Clang!
“Ugh!?”
“Hate to break it to you, but that’s not real aura yet.”
Unlike the petty criminals she had fought before, Joachim wasn’t an easy target.
His sword, wrapped in a dark energy, effortlessly deflected her thrust.
Boom!
Joanna’s blade embedded itself into the wall.
Quickly pulling it free, she turned to face Joachim—
“Here, catch!”
A bloodied object flew toward her.
The severed head of the prostitute.
Her lifeless eyes stared directly at Joanna.
She froze.
Her mind screamed to ignore it and swing her sword, but her body refused.
Then—
The head burst apart, splattering her face with blood and brain matter.
In that instant, she lost her vision.
The red of flesh and the remnants of the woman’s life engulfed her sight.
She hesitated, and—
“I’ll make good use of that corpse!”
For a swordsman, even a moment’s hesitation meant death.
Joachim, confident in his victory, swung for Joanna’s neck.
Stabbing her heart would have been quicker, but he wanted to see the despair twist her face.
As his sword descended toward her throat—
[Duck.]
A voice, heard only by Joanna, whispered into her ear.
She lowered her head.
Joachim’s sword whistled over her scalp.
His brow twitched.
“She reacted to that?
Impossible.”
From what he had seen so far, she was just a novice with good instincts.
No rookie could stay calm after losing their sight.
And yet—
“You’re smiling?!”
Joachim’s voice cracked with disbelief.
Joanna was grinning.