Oko sent Fente's head flying from her torso with one sword.
The other six swords cleaved Fente's head from top to bottom, splitting it, brain and all, into seven pieces on the spot.
And so, Fente met an instant death.
Her stiff torso, spraying blood, fell toward one side of the earth.
Her shattered head, spilling brain matter, fell toward the other.
Hovering in the air, Oko looked down at it all. There was no joy of victory in her eyes—only a tumult of mixed emotions.
It was despicable.
Oko had made the most rational judgment.
Oko had exploited her enemy's weakness to the utmost.
Oko had upheld the professional creed a hunter ought to employ against prey: use every means at one's disposal.
Yet at this moment, watching the corpse of her former adoptive mother fall to the ground, the Pink-Haired Hunter still felt that what she had done was despicable. She even felt a faint sense of guilt.
After all, no matter how unforgivable Fente's past crimes had been, she had once been the adoptive mother who raised Oko with her own hands.
Fente had indeed brought Oko countless torments, fears, sorrows, and pressures.
Yet at the same time, Fente had also provided Oko with ample food, a stable home, and thorough physical training and combat instruction.
Those were all indisputable facts.
Thus, to Oko, Fente's existence had not been entirely without benefit.
She had indeed bestowed countless "favors" upon Oko.
Oko had understood that from beginning to end.
Therefore, although every movement of her body was filled with reason and decisiveness, Oko's heart still could not completely cast off the burden called "the past."
After all, she was not cold-blooded and heartless.
So, as she watched her former adoptive mother's corpse fall helplessly toward the earth, Oko's