Another Route ( Akame Ga Kill Fanfic )

Volume 3 Chapter 1: The Dust Settles I

"Speech"

'Thoughts/Voices'

[Names/Titles]

Flashback/Dreams

...

Proofread by: An Exile

Volume 3 Chapter 1: The Dust Settles I

Jeanne's blade swung down into empty air. She hissed in frustration as her opponent's body twisted abruptly and unnaturally, narrowly evading the incoming strikes for the umpteenth time. Jeanne's movements flowed with seamless grace, and the precision of her strikes was unmistakable, each carefully directed to debilitate her opponent. She wasn't aiming to take a life but rather to defeat her opponent in a show of force to assert herself as a formidable presence and, by extension, make it clear that the knights she represented were not to be trifled with. However, her expectations fell short when every attack she attempted failed to land on the brat before her. The brat's bare hands easily deflected the latest flurry of swings Jeanne aimed at the torso. Jeanne tried once again, her blade slicing through the air in a position that would allow the artificial light within the room to reflect off the blade into the other person's eyes. However, Jeanne's desperate maneuvers failed to find openings in her opponent.

In a brief pause in the action, Jeanne slowly circled the brat, her gaze turning predatory. Her mind became hyper-focused on any minute actions that might reveal a weakness. Despite her battle instincts telling her to shut out distractions, she could not ignore the annoying smirk on her opponent's face. It aggravated Jeanne with each passing moment, a persistent reminder of her pitiful performance.

The offending party was a group of four people. Since their arrival, Jeanne had noticed how they were actively provoking the knights stationed there, displaying a clear lack of respect toward the duties and merits they had accomplished.

She had willingly involved herself once their words went beyond the usual jabs and became personal remarks. Some of the senior knights present had been on the verge of drawing blades. Jeanne had never seen any of them lose patience, but given the circumstances, she was more surprised they had not already drawn blades. She had initially assumed them to be rowdy refugees or opportunistic mercenaries who thought themselves clever enough to push demands onto the knights. Jeanne had no impression of ever meeting any of them, but a simple assessment of their attires, she deduced them to be seasoned practitioners within the Temple of Imperial Fist.

Having returned from her patrols, Jeanne mentally cursed as she stepped in to support her fellow knights in their duties. Her aim was clear—to defend their honor as someone of noble standing and dissuade those individuals from advancing further with their unwanted ambitions. However, to her dismay, her intervention only further emboldened their provocations. Had she been of clearer mind, she would have easily discerned their plans, and the ensuing fight would never have occurred.

Belittlement was no stranger in her life. Her standing as a daughter of nobility subjected her to constant peer scrutiny. Decorum, etiquette, affiliations, and even her own opinions; every aspect of her social life was under perpetual watch. For someone lesser, any mistakes would have easily spelled their downfall. However, the life Jeanne survived imparted enough self-discipline not to succumb to every taunt or teasing remark that entered her ears. The combat training she secretly undertook also served to temper any rash decisions she might make.

Her eyes roamed across the figures of the small group before her. Anyone else would have been unnerved by the dozens of knights within the room directing death stares toward them, but their posture suggested that they were relaxed, even enjoying such an atmosphere. They were confident, as if able to handle anything and everything the menacing band of knights might throw at them.