The Heroine I Kill Always Revives Then I'll Shatter the World!

The trial ground of the Hunter Order, in my view, is nothing more than a large-scale performance art venue. A bunch of old geezers sit up high, pretending to be judges, while hundreds of students below crane their necks like they're at some circus act. And I'm the main attraction for today's show.

My partner today is a female vampire. To be fair, her appearance is top-tier—porcelain skin, stunning features, legs for days, and that red dress she's wearing is clearly worth a small fortune.

Just then, the vampire princess decided to speak up, immediately launching into what sounded like an audition for the year's most tragic drama.

"Why?" Her beautiful eyes welled with tears as she scanned the crowd, her voice soft yet somehow reaching every ear in the room. "We didn't choose to become vampires. I used to be human too. I'm just as much a victim as anyone…"

Here we go, the classic lines. Every year at these trials, some poor sap has to deliver this speech. I could recite it in my sleep by now.

But damn if it didn't work like a charm. The "righteous companions" around me immediately split into two camps. One side was all teary-eyed, wailing "Oh, the poor thing"; the other side was practically foaming at the mouth, shouting "Don't fall for it, she's acting!" The two sides went at it like rival fandoms on social media.

I sighed. Christ, it was noisy.

I decided to cut this tedious drama short.

I raised my silver blade and said in my most polite tone: "Hate to interrupt, folks. But I've got a job to do here."

No one even glanced my way.

Well, so much for the diplomatic approach.

I couldn't be bothered with more talk. In a blur of movement, I materialized right in front of the vampire who was still working up her emotional performance. Her perfect features froze in shock—clearly she hadn't expected anyone to skip ahead in the script.

I gave her a polite nod, then with one quick, brutal motion, drove my silver blade straight into her heart.

"Squelch."

The blade went in clean—like cutting through butter.

Before she crumbled to ash, I caught the silent accusation in her widening eyes: "What the fuck, someone's not playing fair!"

The entire arena went dead silent.

All arguments ceased instantly. Everyone stared at me like I'd just turned their mothers to stone.

Then, some self-righteous idiot with a hero complex jumped forward. It was the top-ranked student from the Bounty Hunter Association—a handsome guy with everything going for him except what mattered most between his ears.

"Seraphina! How… how DARE you!" He trembled with rage, jabbing his finger at my face like some avenging angel. "That was cold-blooded murder! You're no better than the monsters we hunt!"

I casually picked my ear with my pinky finger.

"Difference?" I gave him a slow once-over and replied with complete seriousness, "Well… I could drop you with one hand tied behind my back, while you can only flap your gums and spray spit. That answer work for you?"

"You… I challenge you!" Mr. Number One roared, whipping out his sword and charging at me. The way he moved, you'd think he was about to save the entire world with one swing.

I didn't even bother drawing my sword.

With a casual sidestep, I dodged his flashy but useless attack, then raised my elbow and delivered what I like to call a "physical mute button" right to his pretty-boy face.

"CRACK!"

Ah, blessed silence at last.

Watching him crumple to the ground, I dusted off my hands and used my foot to nudge him closer to the vampire girl's ashes. Might as well let them keep each other company.

"Next," I clapped my hands and scanned the crowd, "Anyone else want to step up and deliver their Oscar speech? Don't be shy, I've got all day."

Not a soul dared to move. The old farts at the mentors' table wore expressions that could curdle milk, no doubt tallying up how many points they'd dock from my score. My poor mentor was already clutching his chest like he was having a heart attack—there went his year-end bonus.

"Come on, don't be shy," I waved my weapon casually. "How about you all rush me at once? Save us some time. Don't worry—with this baby, I promise I won't kill you. Might hurt like hell, though."

The room somehow managed to get even quieter.

The trial concluded in this wonderfully harmonious atmosphere. The results were announced, surprising absolutely no one.

My mentor, in a tone better suited for a funeral, announced that I had "gloriously" achieved dead last due to "misconduct and unprovoked assault on a fellow student."

I caught up with my mentor who was clearly trying to sneak out early.

"So, that first-place hotshot I just decked—whose nephew is he?" I asked, genuinely curious.

My mentor looked up at me with the eyes of a man who'd seen too much and sighed deeply: "The Chief Steward's nephew."

"Oh?" Now I was really interested. "Where is he now?"

"He ran away."

"What?"

"Fled last night. Word is he was sobbing as he ran, swearing he couldn't spend another day in this 'hellhole.'" My mentor paused, looking at me like I was some exotic specimen, then complained, "Seriously, how many people are you planning to kill? You're systematically eliminating every top student in Hunter Association history. Why do you always have to start shit with people?"

Me: "…"

Maybe I just have anger management issues.