Chapter 89: You Reap What You Sow
Mira walked ahead with a metal rod in her hands, taking cautious steps.
She was ready for anything. The moment she saw an enemy, she would stab them with the rod without hesitation.
Halven was just two steps behind her, while Fen and Rusk supported each other as they walked.
As the leader of the mercenary group, Halven should have been taking the lead, but he was still dizzy and unsteady on his feet.
He knew he could handle one enemy, but more than that—he wasn’t sure if he could even protect himself.
The only one with any fighting capabilities at the moment was Mira.
That was why she had taken the lead.
Along the way, she even told the others that it was thanks to Eren that they were out of their cells now.
When Halven asked where Eren was, Mira told him that he had gone to kill the Bjron.
Halven’s blood went cold the moment he heard that name—Bjron.
His already pale face lost what little color remained.
"That idiot... he went alone?" Halven muttered, stopping in his tracks.
Mira turned slightly, her expression grim but resolute. "He said he didn’t have time to wait. That thing... it was too dangerous to leave alive."
Halven gritted his teeth. "He shouldn’t have—dammit, Eren..."
The hallway they moved through was dimly lit, the flickering torches barely keeping the oppressive darkness at bay. The cold stone beneath their boots echoed with every step—a grim reminder that they were still inside enemy territory.
Fen groaned behind them. "I—I don’t know Eren very well since we just met, but if he’s fighting that thing... he’s as good as dead."
"No," Mira replied sharply, her grip tightening on the blood-stained metal rod. "He’s not dead. He can’t be."
Her voice carried such certainty that even Rusk, limping and leaning on Fen, glanced at her in surprise.
Halven pushed forward again, forcing his legs to move despite the dizziness. "If Eren really went to face the Bjron, then we have to find him. We can’t leave someone behind."
"Even if he told us not to," Mira added, her tone softer this time.
The group picked up their pace, moving through the corridors with renewed urgency.
Every now and then, they passed mangled corpses of guards—some scorched, others torn apart. Mira would glance down at them, lips pressed in a thin line.
"He’s been here," she muttered. "This is his work."
Halven nodded. "No question. It’s surgical... violent, but focused."
"What the hell? How did you get outside of your cell?"
A sharp voice rang out behind them.
Everyone froze.
The voice sliced through the hallway like a blade. Instinctively, Mira raised her metal rod and turned toward the sound, positioning herself between the voice and the others.
From the shadows of the passage behind them emerged a tall man in rusted armor, his face half-hidden beneath a grimy helmet. He held a curved sword in one hand, the blade dripping with fresh blood.
A second man stepped into view beside him—leaner, quicker-looking. He was already twirling a knife between his fingers, a cruel smirk plastered across his face.
He was the Rook—the bandit who had lusted after Mira when she was captured by Bjron, only backing off when Eren stepped in.
Mira’s eyes narrowed the moment she saw the second man.
"You!" she hissed, her voice venomous.
He grinned wider, showing yellowed teeth. "Oh, so you remember me? I’m flattered. I was real upset when that brat interrupted us last time. What was his name again? Eran? Ern?"
"Eren," Mira growled, stepping forward without hesitation. "And if you lay a single finger on anyone here, I’ll shove this rod down your throat."
Rook chuckled and flicked the knife in his hand. "You think you’re scary with a stick? Cute."
Behind her, Halven pulled Fen and Rusk closer, shielding them with his body as best he could. His vision still swam, but he knew Mira couldn’t handle both men alone.
The armored man raised his bloodstained sword. "You’re not supposed to be out of your cells. Guess we’ll have to fix that."
"Fan out," Halven ordered quietly. "Don’t clump together."
Mira didn’t wait.
With a sudden lunge, she surged forward at Rook, aiming straight for his gut with the rod. He dodged, just barely, but the metal still grazed his ribs, and he hissed in pain.
"She’s quicker than she looks," he muttered, staggering back, a new edge of seriousness in his voice.
The armored man moved in toward Halven, blade swinging in a wide arc. Halven barely ducked in time, stumbling. But then Mira was there again—she twisted the rod in her grip and slammed it into the man’s wrist, knocking the sword from his hand.
Halven took the opening, ramming his shoulder into the man’s chest and slamming him into the wall with a grunt.
"Rusk!" Halven shouted. "Grab that sword!"
Rusk, limping, dragged himself toward the fallen weapon and snatched it up with trembling hands.
Rook snarled and lunged for Mira again. "You bitch—!"
Mira spun low, ducking under the swipe of his knife and ramming the rod upward. It struck him square in the stomach. He doubled over with a gasp but recovered faster than she expected and swept his leg out.
Still, Mira dodged in time.
"Dammit—he’s stronger than he looks!" she barked, backing away.
The Rook lunged again, and this time, it was Fen who acted. Despite his injuries, he hurled one of Rusk’s crutches like a spear. The wooden stick smacked into the Rook’s side, staggering him just long enough for Mira to whip her rod across his face.
Blood spattered.
"Ughaaaa!"
The Rook screamed, clutching his broken nose.
Mira didn’t stop—she raised the rod and swung again. And again. By the third strike, he was on the ground, whimpering and dazed.
"You bitch!"
The armored man roared and charged again—
But this time, Halven tackled him.
It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t strong. But it was enough. Both men crashed into the wall, Halven wheezing from the pain in his ribs. Still, he clung to the bastard’s arm, trying to stop the sword.
Mira rushed in, bloodied rod raised.
With a final yell, she brought it down on the man’s temple. Once. Twice. Three times.
He slumped against the wall with a groan and didn’t move again.
Panting, Mira stumbled back, clutching her bleeding arm.
Fen sank to the ground, pale but alive. Rusk leaned heavily against the wall, breathing hard.
Halven coughed and pushed off the unconscious body. "We’re still alive..."
Mira looked at the bodies and muttered, "Barely."
Then, slowly, Mira moved her already exhausted body toward where the Rook lay.
When she reached him, she smirked a little before planting her foot firmly on his chest.
The Rook groaned beneath her, blood dribbling from his smashed nose and split lips. One of his eyes was already swelling shut. He tried to mutter something—some slurred insult or plea—but Mira leaned down before he could finish.
"You said something earlier," she murmured, her voice low. "Something about what you were going to do... back when I was captured."
Her grip tightened on the rod.
"You think I forgot?"
He wheezed, choking on blood. "P-Please..."
Mira’s smirk vanished. What remained was cold.
"You should also remember what Eren said to you."
At that moment, Rook’s eyes shook like crazy.
—I’ll make sure you never use what’s between your legs again.
—I’ll cut it off. Slowly. And feed it to you.
"Since Eren’s not here," Mira said coldly, her foot pressing down harder on Rook’s chest, making him wheeze, "I’ll just do it for him."
Rook’s hands scrambled weakly at her boot, his broken face twisted in panic.
"No—wait—please, I—I was just talking! I didn’t mean—!"
Mira didn’t blink.
"Funny," she said flatly. "Neither did he."
With a slow, deliberate motion, she flipped the rod in her hand, gripping it like a blade.
She wasn’t going to show mercy—not to scum like this.
She aimed low.
The rod gleamed faintly in the dim corridor light, speckled with dried blood and fresh from the fight. Mira’s expression was unreadable—cold, focused, like someone who had long since crossed the threshold of fear.
Rook whimpered beneath her, his trembling hands now clasped together in a desperate plea.
"Please—don’t—!"
Mira didn’t listen.
This wasn’t about mercy.
It wasn’t about justice.
It was about closure .
About ensuring that monsters like him never again had the chance to prey on anyone—especially not people like her.
Her grip tightened.
Then, with a single breath—
She brought the rod down.
"AHHHHHHHAAAAHHHAAA!"
The scream that followed was not human.
It was shrill. Guttural. A pitiful, broken noise that echoed down the corridor and lingered like smoke in the cold air.
Mira didn’t flinch.
She stood over him, her breathing heavy, her face unreadable as Rook writhed on the ground beneath her, clutching what remained of his pride.
He wouldn’t be getting back up.
Not now.
Not ever.
---
Author Note:
Thank you for reading the Chapter. I hope you continue to do read more in future.
It’s my second novel so if there’s any kind of mistakes you find in the novel related to grammar please tell me and I’ll edit it as soon as possible.