The Childhood Friend of the Villainess in a Romance Fantasy

Translator: Elisia

Editor/Proofreader: TempWane

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“Magic…!”

Someone exclaimed, but what unfolded before our eyes was far too alien to be considered “magic” as it was known in this world.

If such a method of tearing through space to move things existed, it would have already been utilized. Even though the people of Delkis couldn’t use magic, the Grand Ducal House had several magicians in its service.

If such magic existed, it would have been employed in past wars to seize strategic advantages. How could it not?

“What on earth is that…?”

I heard Prince Evan muttering under his breath.

The room was still a chaotic mess.

No, it wasn’t just the room. Beyond the tightly shut windows, I could hear someone shouting. Probably beyond the door as well.

The helmet of a barbarian, being wildly shaken in a wolf’s jaws, fell to the ground.

“Eek!”

The maid let out a shriek as she blankly watched the helmet roll to her feet. Then, her gaze shifted toward the barbarian whose helmet had come off.

Hadn’t she once said the Northern Barbarians couldn’t possibly be human?

In a sense, the maid’s earlier words seemed to hold some truth.

What had been hidden beneath the barbarian’s helmet was a growth of fungi.. It looked alive—indeed, it likely was. Thin, hair-like filaments wriggled in the air, faintly glowing and casting an eerie light over the barbarian’s vacant, lifeless eyes.

Snow clamped her jaws around the neck of one such barbarian. A chilling *crack* echoed as the neck snapped.

…Could she even stomach that?

But then again, the wolves of the North lived further north than the people of Delkis.

What else could they have been surviving on?

Snow gnawed at the limp barbarian’s neck several more times. The lifeless body twitched violently as if in a death spasm. Its fingers convulsed, just like the severed ones scattered across the floor earlier.

The sight was grotesque—horrific, even—to my eyes as well.

I turned my head to look at Amelia.

She stood near the hearth, leaning against the wall, her face pale as she watched the scene unfold.

Did Amelia anticipate this when she came here?

…Does this sort of battle even appear in the romantic fantasies?

But I couldn’t afford to keep watching her.

I turned my gaze back and gripped my sword with both hands, bracing myself. Behind me were Amelia and her maid; beside me was Prince Evan.

The knights fought well, except for their initial moment of panic. Naturally, the hunters of Delkis wielded their swords with ease, as though handling something they were well-accustomed to.

Of course, none of them had likely seen such magic before, but aside from the fact that the enemies emerged from thin air, they were still the same barbarians they usually faced.

The problem was—

Yes, the problem was, they were appearing *from thin air.*

“Young Lady!”

A scream came from behind.

Was that directed at me, or Amelia?

…Working as a maid in the Grand Ducal House of Grattanmount meant she was likely the daughter of a noble family herself. Perhaps even of a higher status than me, a mere baron’s daughter.

And yet, despite having no experience with battle and likely never having held a sword, she didn’t flee. That determination was, perhaps, what it meant to be called a woman of the North.

The maid threw herself forward, shielding Amelia with her body. Behind her, a rift opened in the air.

Through that opening, a thick hand slowly emerged, writhing as though swimming through the void—

It was soon splattered with blood.

I had rushed over as fast as I could and brought my sword down on the hand. The sensation of slicing flesh traveled through the blade to my grip—a feeling not entirely unfamiliar to me. I knew how it felt to skin small game.

But everything else was different.

A rabbit’s neck came off cleanly with a single swing. The same with squirrels. With moose, I would just drain the blood, sling it over a wolf’s back, and bring it back to the adults.

But I had never cut through something this large.

Thunk.

The advancing blade struck with a sickening crunch, lodging into bone..

In hindsight, even that was sheer luck. Iron must have been just as scarce among the barbarians as it was for us, as they wore patched-together armor reinforced with small metal plates. Luckily, the one I struck was wearing simple quilted armor.

A metallic shriek resounded, followed by the arm flailing.

I raised my sword again. There was a grinding sound of flesh being torn and a grating noise as the blade scraped against something, but I had no time to care.

With all my strength, I swung the sword back down.

And again.

And again.

The arm that had been reaching toward Amelia twisted at an unnatural angle and then sagged, dangling limply in the void. Following that, a shoulder appeared, then a helmet, and then a short, stocky neck.

I raised my sword and swung it with all my might toward the back of its neck.

“Gah—krek.”

This time, it made a sound that could be put into words. It wasn’t pleasant by any means.

When I pulled the sword out of what was probably lodged between its vertebrae, blood sprayed out with a*swoosh, splattering onto me. Around the neck that now dangled limply like the arm, luminous fungi swayed, reaching out toward the air.

The sight was utterly revolting.

“Hah…”

Only then did I realize I had been holding my breath, exhaling sharply.

Perhaps the portal judged the attempt a failure because it began to close, the void sealing shut like a zipper being drawn upward. Slowly but surely, the dimensional rift disappeared as if it had never been there to begin with.

However, it left behind a corpse.

The part of the body that had been caught in the rift was neatly severed.

…I don’t think I’ll ever use a dimensional portal in this world.

The remaining third of the body was still twitching, so I set my blade upright and stabbed repeatedly where I thought the lungs might be.

The tip of the blade pierced thin flesh, struck firm ribs, then slipped between bones, sinking into the soft tissues beyond. The sensation was… indescribable. I had experienced something similar before, but this was somehow different. Something about it was.

Blood splattered with each mechanical motion of my arm. I only stopped when I realized the thing I was stabbing had gone completely still.

My breath was ragged. If it had felt like I wasn’t breathing at all before, now I was breathing so fast it felt overwhelming.

As I tried to steady my breaths, I remembered the person I’d momentarily forgotten.

Amelia.

Amelia was staring at me, her hands clasped over her mouth, her wide eyes unblinking. Though cradled in her maid’s arms, she peeked out from behind the maid’s shoulder, her gaze fixed directly on me.

Had I… gone too far? Did I show her something too horrifying?

When Amelia mentioned there might be a battle, I had taken it too lightly. There had been battles before, but back then, the adults had handled all the barbarians. I never imagined I would have to swing a sword myself.

I looked down at my hands.

Even in the dim light, the crimson was vivid. From my hands to almost my entire arm, I was drenched in blood. The blood that dripped from my soaked hand ran down the blade, forming droplets that fell to the ground one by one.

My skin was already pale, even among the fair-skinned people of Alwen, but now it looked like someone had splattered red paint haphazardly across a white canvas.

And my hair—surely, I must have looked as if someone had spilled red dye over snow.

“Amel—”

I opened my mouth, wanting to say something—anything—to explain myself.

“Elsie!”

My words were drowned out by Amelia’s scream.

For a moment, I thought she was yelling to blame me.

But then I realized her wide eyes weren’t focused on my face. They were looking past me, just beside it.

When I turned quickly, my gaze locked with that of a barbarian.

I swung my sword, but the strike was too hurried, lacking strength.

The blade embedded itself in the barbarian’s collarbone.

As if to pin it in place, the barbarian immediately grabbed the sword with its right hand and held it tightly. Blood flowed from its left shoulder and right hand, but its firm grip on the blade kept it from moving easily.

There was no time to hesitate.

I let go with my left hand and reached for my waist. I drew the dagger I had prepared in advance and swung it immediately, but my left hand was caught by the barbarian’s free hand.

By then, nearly the barbarian’s entire upper body had emerged from the dimensional gate. Its weight was far beyond what I had imagined, and I ended up falling backward.

A disgusting stench assaulted my nose. It wasn’t the smell of blood—no, it was something else. Like the humid, musty odor that lingered during the rainy season in the middle of summer. A smell almost unheard of in the perpetually dry lands of Delkis.

Amelia wasn’t the only one who realized I was in danger. Across the room, Grey, who had been chewing on another barbarian’s head, turned toward me.

Just as Gray crouched as if preparing to leap toward me—

Something golden appeared in the corner of my right eye.