Your Excellency Is Strong, but My Art Style Is Above Yours! Chapter 12

After changing into the high-collared shirt and trench coat he had prepared long ago, putting on a full-face mask with flame patterns on a white background, a cowboy hat, black gloves, deerskin boots, a tactical belt, and a finely forged steel longsword, he finally stuck a "Kurotsuchi Mayuri-brand microphone" to his neck that could convert a spirit body's words into actual vibrations in the air...

Once everything was ready, a bounty hunter entirely shrouded beneath a trench coat, revealing not the slightest trace of his true face, known to people of this world as the "Faceless One," was born!

In an underground tavern in the red-light district, all sorts of shady characters gathered. Some occupied tables in twos and threes, whispering in private; some watched their surroundings like lone wolves; others sang and drank without restraint, pulling heavily made-up prostitutes close as they joked and caroused.

Among them were local Yakuza, adventurers and merchants from elsewhere, even soldiers and military police. Quite a few were either notorious or widely renowned figures.

Their attire was equally strange. Some dressed like wealthy Arab merchants, some wore fantasy-style warrior outfits, the bartender wore a fashionable suit, while the military police looked as though they had stepped out of a modern army.

...This chaotic mix of clothing created a bizarre vitality, as though it also demonstrated just how crooked this world's technology tree was.

Yet no matter what kind of hardened criminal they were, everyone deliberately or unconsciously avoided a certain corner, leaving a small area empty.

The one monopolizing that table was a strange man who wore a hat and trench coat even indoors. Though this was a tavern, he had no intention of removing his mask to eat. He had merely ordered a drink and left it untouched on the table.

Normally, a tavern lacked no busybodies. Someone so conspicuous should have attracted all manner of unsavory people long ago. Yet he had been sitting there for quite some time, and no one dared cause trouble for him.

The reasons varied from person to person, of course, but the greatest common factor was probably that they simply "didn't dare"!

His appearance was far too distinctive!

Over the past three years, this man had risen to prominence in the underground world. Though he had appeared only intermittently, with a total active time of merely half a year, he had not struck often—but every time, he had accurately killed his prey. Even many influential figures in the underground world had failed to escape him.

The most frightening part was not even that. Though he called himself a "bounty hunter," his actions followed no pattern at all. Many Yakuza bosses who were not even on bounty lists had been killed by him, as if he chose his targets solely according to personal preference!

In this chaotic world, villains were everywhere and murderers were hardly rare. But someone like the "Faceless One," whose motives and true identity were unknown and whose every strike was fatal, naturally inspired exceptional fear and respect.

Anyone with even a little sense would not stupidly go up and strike up a conversation with him.

This subtle atmosphere was slightly disrupted only when an information broker in a gray cloak arrived, walked straight over, and sat opposite the "Faceless One."

"This time, I took a huge risk. These are absolutely classified docu—"

Clang!

A bag was tossed onto the table. Its obvious weight made the information broker shut his mouth.

"Where are the things I wanted?"

"Here they are."

The information broker took a long, narrow packet from his robes and handed it to Iori, then picked up the bag and began counting its contents intently.

Iori opened the packet to find leather wanted posters. Unlike those circulating on the market, each had relevant information written in small characters on the back, such as where the person had last been seen.

The boy skimmed through them, nodded in satisfaction, and was about to pack them up and head back to examine them at leisure when a familiar face suddenly entered his sight.

Smack!

Iori slapped the wanted poster onto the table and asked the startled information broker in a low voice, "Do you have more detailed information on this person?"

The information broker steadied himself and looked at the poster. It depicted a long-haired young girl with a cool, aloof appearance.

Below the portrait were her identifying features:

Black hair, red eyes, sixteen years old, skilled with a katana, excellent assassin, Teigu user.

Escaped from her unit half a month ago. Imperial traitor. Wanted dead or alive!

"Aka...me... Akame?"

Chapter 15: Ah! Akame, What Are You Doing?!

Iori had long since gathered information and verified it through multiple sources, confirming that he was in Akame ga Kill!, a world with a rather simple setting that could be summed up by a famous saying from the Prime Minister:

Above the court, rotten wood serves as officials; within the halls, beasts feed on salaries.

Those with wolves' hearts and dogs' deeds flood the corridors of power, while bootlickers and flatterers govern in droves.

Thus the state lies in ruins, and the common people suffer unspeakably.

Darkness and cruelty were the tone of Akame ga Kill!, while the protagonist group was an Assassination Unit under the Revolutionary Army. The entire main plot was about resisting the corrupt Thousand-Year Empire and its lackeys.

Iori had lived in China in his previous life. History books had recorded countless dark eras like this, so after arriving here, he felt no psychological burden in seeking out tyrants, corrupt officials, and decadent nobles to test his blade on.

As a result, his practical combat experience and swordsmanship rapidly improved. Along the way, he made a name for himself as the "Faceless One" and gained a few CGs, so it was not a bad haul.

Naturally, his blade-testing drew the Empire's displeasure. After all, many of those who had died by his hand were "superiors with status and standing," so he quickly ended up on the wanted list. At one point, his bounty rose to the same level as Revolutionary Army officers.

But no matter how ruthless the Empire became, and no matter how much manpower and resources it mobilized, it could never catch Iori. It could not even find so much as a shadow of him. Meanwhile, people continued to lose their heads to the "Faceless One."

This matter made the Imperial Military Police lose enormous face. The Prime Minister, the Empire's leading authority, even publicly reprimanded them over it. The result was that the name "Faceless One" only grew louder...

To be frank, the military police were somewhat innocent. Their failure to catch Iori was not because they were incompetent. After all, even if they invited the Shinigami kid detective, he still could not catch a genuine "invisible man"!

With the traits of a spirit body, as long as Iori took off his clothes, who could see him?

Moreover, if Iori had just ten seconds, he could return to Bleach and vanish completely from this world!

How were they supposed to catch him?!

Besides, Iori was not someone who could only run away.

Though his spiritual pressure was only around the level of a seated officer, under the boost of the Perfect Shinigami talent, his true combat strength was a tier higher. He was only lacking Shikai and some further refinement before reaching Vice-Captain level.

There were not many powerful people in Akame ga Kill! who could threaten him, and such people were not the sort one could casually encounter on the road.

Thus, Iori came to this world more than ten times over the course of three years, tormenting the Imperial Military Police who knew how many times, until they finally "admitted defeat"!

That was, they kept his wanted poster up publicly, but in reality no longer organized large-scale purges or manhunts. They even pinned the Faceless One's crimes on other wanted criminals to reduce Iori's influence.

Forcing the entire Imperial Military Police into tacit surrender through his own power—even if the military police were merely the Empire's police force, ranking below the frontier army and Imperial Guard—was still an achievement that shocked the entire underground world!

Whether Imperial officials, Yakuza organizations, or even the Revolutionary Army, all agreed on one thing:

The Faceless One might not be the strongest assassin, but he was definitely the most troublesome. Unless necessary, do not provoke him!

—This string of events had brought Iori roughly four Art Style Value.

The reason it was only four points seemed to be that his assassination targets were not important enough, and his "method of escape" was wrong.

If he had revealed his true face like Aizen did, making all the powerful figures watch helplessly, then tossed out one or two cocky lines... his Art Style Value would have shot up on the spot!

Iori's first meeting with Akame had taken place during one of the Empire's attempts to capture him.

At the time, not only had the Military Police Unit been deployed, but Imperial high officials, determined to get serious, had also summoned a highly professional Assassination Unit. They wanted Iori's "colleagues" to meet him needle for needle.

They had even guessed that Iori possessed some means of concealing himself, so they had scientists specially develop detectors capable of detecting heat... but unfortunately, they still could do nothing to him.

The search ended in another Imperial failure. Both military police and members of the Assassination Unit died at Iori's hands. If not for his concern over spiritual pressure consumption, he would certainly have taught every one of them an unforgettable lesson!

It was during that incident that Iori encountered the black-haired assassin Akame... He recognized her at first glance as the protagonist of Akame ga Kill!, one of the Revolutionary Army's future sharpest blades.

At the time, Akame had not yet awakened her free will and still served in the Empire's Assassination Unit.

As an elite killer trained by the Empire since childhood, she relied on killing-intent perception that surpassed the five senses to catch a trace of Iori's presence.

Iori had admired this female assassin since his previous life. Now that he was also a swordsman, he could not help feeling eager to test himself. He immediately revealed himself and had an exhilarating sword duel with her!

Honestly, Iori's swordsmanship should have been stronger than Akame's. Yet during the battle, he deeply experienced how differences in training methods, combat objectives, offensive and defensive awareness, and other factors could affect the final outcome...

The "slash" of a Bleach was meant to purify fallen Hollows, but it also emphasized protecting oneself. Especially when facing a Hollow group, one had to avoid injury as much as possible, so tactics that left both sides grievously wounded were rarely chosen.

But Akame's swordsmanship was almost entirely offense without defense. It was a Way of the Sword centered utterly on "killing," one that could sacrifice everything to complete its objective!

At first, Iori was even forced onto the defensive!

However, when Iori disregarded the cost to his spiritual pressure and unleashed Strike White Flash Ghost at full power, he suddenly turned defeat into victory.

Iori did not kill her. He left before Imperial reinforcements arrived, then hurriedly returned to the Soul Society—though he still had more than half his spiritual pressure left, he needed to go back and refill his mana first.

After that, Iori and Akame seemed to share some kind of fate. They would occasionally run into each other in various places and exchange blows from time to time, though they only fought to the death that first time.

The two had become acquainted through combat. Though they had not spoken much, Iori could vaguely sense that her mental state was slowly changing.

After witnessing how cruel the world under Imperial rule was and realizing how corrupt and dark the Empire's upper ranks were, she was no longer a "blade" controlled in someone else's hand. She had become a true "assassin," one with free will.

Their last meeting had been a month ago. At the time, Iori had guessed that Akame had likely awakened and would betray the Empire to join the Revolutionary Army, just as in the original story.

He simply had not expected that perhaps due to the butterfly effect he had caused, Akame's path of rebellion had not gone smoothly this time. Rather than immediately making contact with the Revolutionary Army, something had gone wrong, and she was currently being pursued intensely!

It would have been one thing if he had not known about it. But now that Iori did, how could he not join the excitement, farm some Bond CG, and incidentally make things harder for the Empire's upper ranks?

He eagerly took out the gold coins he had stored away, bribed relevant personnel within the military, obtained the latest intelligence, and rushed without pause toward the target area.

Making full use of his advantages as a spirit body, Iori specifically targeted the Empire's Assassination Unit and military. He eavesdropped—no, he practically attended their combat meetings openly—and obtained firsthand information.

Acting alone, he was faster than the Assassination Unit and reached the town where Akame was hiding ahead of them.

He was lucky enough to quickly spot Akame dealing with an opponent in an alley.

What surprised Iori, however, was that even though she had already been exposed, Akame did not leave town to hide. Instead, she remained in the town, disguised herself as a traveler, and entered an inn to rest.

Curious, Iori did not immediately jump out to greet her. Instead, he slipped outside her window, intending to see what she was up to.

Could this be the meeting place she had arranged with the Revolutionary Army? Was she planning to ambush the Imperial forces here and catch them off guard?

Countless possibilities flashed through Iori's mind, but when he peered through the window and saw the girl lying on her side on the bed with her back to him, a sword sheath clamped between her legs, seemingly in great discomfort, his pupils still contracted.

Ah, Akame! With a great enemy at hand, what are you doing, Akame?!

Chapter 16: Watch Closely—This Is What a Gentleman Is!

Akame had recently run into a bit of trouble.

Raised by the Empire since childhood, she had survived brutal hellish training and become an outstanding assassin. She had originally possessed an absolutely calm mind, one that would not allow anything to affect her judgment or ability to act. Yet she had unexpectedly fallen into such an awkward predicament...

This was what had happened. During one assassination mission after another, she had encountered all kinds of people. Through her interactions and conversations with them, she gradually realized that the Empire's bureaucrats and nobles were the root cause of every tragedy.

By chance, she encountered Nadjeta, a former Imperial general, during one mission. This heroic woman managed to talk away Akame's last trace of hesitation, convincing her to join the Revolutionary Army and devote herself to breaking the Empire's decayed rule.

But the process of turning against the Empire did not go smoothly. Their whereabouts were exposed, drawing pursuit. Nadjeta was not particularly strong and was injured, so in order to cover the female general's escape, Akame lured the pursuers away alone. She fought and retreated along the way, shaking off the enemy several times only to be caught again several times, before finally stopping here.

She had only intended to rest briefly, replenish supplies, and leave immediately. Yet, as luck would have it, she encountered a hunter hired by the Empire. They fought a brief but fierce battle. Akame emerged victorious, but she was accidentally caught by one of his tricks.

Bounty hunters were essentially a pack of wild dogs. Many came from the Yakuza, and their fighting methods were full of uncertainty. No matter how experienced a swordsman was, they could not guess what a bounty hunter might be hiding on his person.

The hunter Akame encountered earned money through bounties, but also took on private work from time to time. He carried plenty of medicinal powders, everything from deadly poison that killed at the sight of blood to hallucinogens that made people dizzy and dazed.

He had even coated his clothing with powder. What appeared to be an ordinary fur collar could scatter a hazy cloud of "dust" with a casual shake, making it impossible to guard against.

As a result, though she killed him and was careful to avoid the poisonous mist, she still accidentally came into contact with some.

Fortunately, as an assassin, Akame was fairly knowledgeable about all kinds of poisons. She identified it as something other than a lethal toxin, which eased her mind considerably.

But the awkward part was that, from another perspective, this poison was also rather deadly:

It was a drug that made one's emotions more uninhibited and accelerated blood flow, commonly used to heighten the mood in certain situations—a so-called aphrodisiac!

It was not strange for a scoundrel to carry something like that. He had surely used it to commit plenty of wicked acts. Presumably, in his panicked final moments, he had scattered all his powders, including this one... Akame had simply been unlucky.

Though the girl felt embarrassed after being affected, she was not about to become desperate like in some third-rate novels and insist on finding someone for yin-yang dual cultivation.

First, Akame had inhaled only a small dose, and she had undergone poison-resistance training since childhood. Her resistance was greater than an ordinary person's and could weaken the drug's effects.

Second, so-called aphrodisiacs were mostly hallucinogens that left people dazed and created feelings of pleasure. After all, the main groups developing such things were brothels, whose purpose was merely to heighten their customers' enjoyment, not to get people killed.

Drugs with effects as absurd as the Yin Yang Hehuan Powder or I Love a Firewood from martial arts settings... might exist in this world, but this was definitely not one of them.

In fact, she merely felt somewhat overheated, sweaty beneath her arms, and unusually thirsty.

If she encountered pursuers in the wilderness in this state, she would likely find it difficult to escape their net again. To fight the Empire's elites, she had to ensure she remained in good condition.

Considering that the pursuers could arrive at any moment and time was pressing, Akame found an inn and planned to deal with it herself.

However, assassins like Akame had been raised as tools of slaughter since childhood. Living in a cruel world where only the strong survived, they had to cast aside their weak selves in order to live—not as girls, but as "blades." Thus, she had become incomparably pure and sharp.

But because of that, let alone matters between men and women, even her awareness of gender was somewhat faint. To her, romance was less appealing than a hearty meal.

At such a critical moment, she possessed only theoretical knowledge and no practical experience, making her quite clumsy. She did not even possess the refinement expected of a lady—she did not know how to better please herself.

She merely kneaded her chest at random, relying on her own guesses and bodily instincts. But that was obviously like trying to quench thirst by looking at plums. When she tried moving her hand lower, the sensation made her whole body tremble as if shocked by electricity. Though she did not know the proper method, even the simple rubbing gradually threw her breathing into disorder and slowly raised her body temperature.

All that could be said was that her spirit of exploration and ability to learn were quite strong. At first, she had no idea what she was doing, but later she at least developed a bit of technique. Especially after she accidentally brushed against her sword sheath, it was as if a new world had opened before her.

She was fully dressed and faced away from the window, so her hands could not be seen. Without looking closely, one might think she was taking a nap. But on closer inspection, one would discover that the girl's springy, powerful thighs were tightly clamped around the black sword sheath edged in red, rubbing back and forth. Her pale, delicate feet were overlapped, her toes curled as though enduring something, while breaths that seemed both distressed and pleased echoed through the room in a suppressed drift...