In this land where good and bad intermingle, if you can get connected with the mob, then you've essentially got a line to the police too. And once you're tied in with the police, getting a fake ID is as easy as snapping your fingers, isn't it?
Especially…
Durandal glanced meaningfully at Elysia. "The ID you used back then was probably acquired the same way, right? And the money you used to pay off your credit card bill…"
The two exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them about the situation.
Durandal didn't press the issue further. She simply watched as a group of thugs, leering with sleazy grins, closed in on them.
Without even waiting for them to spout their typical villainous lines, she summoned her weapon—Midnight Ataegina, a lance, and an overpowered one at that.
When the thugs saw Durandal suddenly materialize a weapon out of thin air—a weapon that looked like it probably weighed more than they did—their grins froze on their faces.
They all halted in their tracks, too scared to take another step.
Watching their reaction, a faint smile touched Durandal's lips. She drove the lance hard into the ground, and with a heavy thud, the asphalt pavement split open into a large crater. Cracks snaked forward until they reached the thugs' feet before finally stopping.
That little display completely cowed the gangsters.
They realized this wasn't some foam prop—and Durandal was no stage magician. She was the real deal, a genuine superhuman!
Under normal circumstances, faced with such a tough opponent, they would've already scattered to the winds without a trace.
But now, after witnessing the casual power behind that single strike, none of them dared to bet that if they turned and ran, that massive lance wouldn't pierce straight through their backs.
Given the size of that thing, it'd be a miracle if their corpses stayed in one piece.
And so, the very thugs who'd rushed over eagerly upon a tip-off, hoping to have their way with the two new beauties in town, were now trembling so badly their legs gave out.
They dropped to their knees, unable to even muster a plea for mercy.
A few of the more timid ones even lost control of their bladders. The pungent smell of urine, carried by the evening breeze, wafted into Durandal and Elysia's noses, making them both frown slightly.
Elysia complained, "Durandal, that was way too rough. I was much more elegant back in my day, you know~?"
As she spoke, Elysia fluttered a small hand in front of her nose, as if trying to wave the stench away.
When that didn't work, she had no choice but to take a few steps back, putting some distance between herself and the source. Only then could she breathe easily again.
Durandal could only sigh helplessly.
Wasn't she just trying to avoid laying hands on humans?
Who knew they'd be so easily frightened…
Steeling herself against the foul odor hanging in the air, Durandal approached the group of thugs.
She looked down at one who seemed relatively composed and said, "Take me to your boss."
Hearing this, the thug, who had been trembling in fear, suddenly seemed to come back to life.
After all, he knew perfectly well—as long as he was useful, this superhuman woman wouldn't kill him just yet.
So, mustering his courage, he dusted himself off, bowed obsequiously, and asked for Durandal and Elysia's names before promptly turning informant and leading the way.
It was quite a sight, really…
A hulking, nearly two-meter-tall bald man, built like a bear and covered in fierce, intimidating tattoos, now scared out of his wits by a young woman who stood barely over 1.7 meters. The contrast was almost comical.
Seeing Durandal follow one of the thugs, Elysia quickly caught up and joined them.
After walking through seven or eight streets, they reached the outskirts, far from the town center. The thug pointed toward a manor up ahead.
"Lady Durandal, the boss of this area lives in that manor."
Rubbing his hands nervously, he added hesitantly, "Um, can I just leave you here? After all…"
Durandal nodded, not inclined to make things harder for him.
She knew perfectly well this thug was no saint—he'd probably ruined countless innocent girls, and might even have blood on his hands.
But what could she do?
Hand him over to the local police?
The police here were nothing like the precincts from the world she came from. If she turned him in, chances were he'd be released the moment she walked away.
In fact, he'd probably be out sharing a smoke and making plans for a night out with the local cops.
The law held little power in a backwater like this.
So, should she take the law into her own hands and decide his fate herself?
Whether as the traveler from a peaceful era or as Durandal, who had slain countless Honkai beasts, she could never do such a thing.
So, it was better to just let him go.
Once she'd saved this world from the Honkai, there would still be time to cleanse these tumors from human society.
Watching the thug scurry away after being dismissed, Elysia remarked with a sigh, "I thought you'd at least punish him a bit—give him a good beating or something."
Durandal glanced at Elysia, whose face was hidden in shadow, making it hard to discern her expression.
But no matter what tone Elysia had used, Durandal's answer would remain the same.
She replied calmly, "Until the Honkai is destroyed, I will not lightly turn my weapons against humans."
Not that she would never turn them against humans—but she wouldn't do so lightly.
It meant Durandal had her own bottom line; she wasn't unconditionally forgiving of her own kind.
Elysia didn't respond, and Durandal tightened her grip on the lance, striding toward the manor ahead.
A quarter of an hour later, the manor's armed forces had been neutralized, either voluntarily or… otherwise. Durandal now stood before the owner of the estate—the local mafia captain.
She stared at the woman in front of her, who looked as if she'd seen a ghost, and felt a flicker of surprise herself.
"I never expected the local mob boss to be a woman."
Durandal remarked with some feeling.
The woman in question seemed to snap back to her senses. Trembling, she pulled a pack of slim cigarettes from the pocket of her silk pajamas and lit one with slightly unsteady hands.
After taking a long drag and exhaling a cloud of nicotine, she finally spoke. "So… s-speak. What… what do you want from me?"
It was clear she was barely holding onto her composure.
Durandal saw no need to make things harder for her and stated her demands plainly: "I need a legal ID, and some money. Oh, and earlier, I damaged a section of the road in the town center with my weapon. You'll need to send someone to repair it."
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