Blessed By A Yandere Goddess

Sarael entered the inn, and no one even looked at her. People seeking shelter from the Frostland’s winter night were common. She was far from suspicious.

Especially not in an inn where everyone was paid to stay silent and act normal.

Still, there were a few exceptions, those openly glaring at Sarael’s unnatural beauty and the seemingly perfect fit of her dress.

"Is a pageant being held or something?"

"As far as I know, no..."

"Think she’s a hunter?"

Some of the inn’s guests were already whispering. Each of them was on the Second Prince’s payroll, along with the establishment’s owners.

He had thought gathering them all in one place would make an ambush nearly impossible. He had not accounted for what would happen if the one attacking them was overwhelmingly powerful.

"Are you lost?"

A hunter approached Sarael near the entrance, hoping to flirt while also determining whether she posed a threat to their operation.

"Lost?"

The hunter raised a brow.

"I mean, are you a hunter looking for a place to stay, or a tourist? If it’s the latter, I can help you find somewhere better."

Sarael tilted her head, studying the man’s expression. Her shadows were already scanning through the entire building without anyone noticing.

"Well, what about you? Are you a hunter?"

"Well, of course. Isn’t it obvious?"

The hunter smirked proudly, showing off his sword, the one he claimed could cut a boulder and had cost him a fortune.

"Are you doing a job for the Second Prince?"

Sarael asked outright, and the hunter’s expression froze for only a moment before he recovered. Still, his alertness had shot through the roof.

"The Second Prince? I wish. But why ask about him and not the First or Third? You a fan or something?"

The hunter tried to play it cool. But Sarael’s question had pushed the tension in the room to its peak.

The First was the heir, the most popular of the three. The Third was the prince of the people. The Second, however, was more like the forgotten middle child.

For such a beautiful woman to ask specifically about him was completely unexpected.

But it was pointless. Sarael had already uncovered the truth, and with it came a soft giggle, sweet as music to every hunter on the inn’s first floor.

"I see. Then... please suffer."

Sarael smiled, locking eyes with the hunter. She was about to begin her own massacre, without needing the Third Prince’s instructions.

The hunter’s hand moved toward his sword. Sarael’s shadow caught his wrist, lifted him off the floor by that single arm, and tore it from its socket.

He hit the ground screaming, clutching the gushing wound. Before he could bleed out, the shadows dragged him across the floor by his ankles and shoved him headfirst into the hearth.

The stench of burning flesh filled the room. And the other patrons scrambled the moment the first one had died.

A second hunter lunged with his blade only for the shadows to catch him mid-swing, and slam him against the ceiling until his spine cracked.

Then Sarael used her shadows to smash bottles of alcohol over him before throwing him into the hearth, just like the first one.

A woman tried to flee. The shadows caught her ankles, flipped her upside down, and pulled in opposite directions until she came apart into two halves with a wet tear.

A man charged Sarael with a dagger. Shadows coiled around his chest and crushed his ribcage inward with a chorus of sharp cracks.

Before his body could collapse, another tendril seized him and hurled him into a another hunter with enough force to reduce both of them to a spray of gore.

"Please, we didn’t—"

"Everyone in this building is on his payroll. Everyone in this building knew what was being planned."

She stepped into the center of the room, the tendrils parting for her.

Her soft and unbothered voice echoed throughout the room. Her hands clasped in front of her, the picture of demure elegance.

"And even if you didn’t know, even if you were just following orders, even if you regret everything—"

She stopped, surrounded by the dead and dying.

"—it doesn’t matter. You’re a threat. And I don’t allow threats to my husband to exist."

Another hunter crawled toward the window with shattered legs. The shadows pinned him down, pulled out his eyes one at a time, set them on the table beside him, then fed him to the fire with the others.

And finally, a man hiding behind an overturned table was found last.

Sarael had decided to give him a little special treatment for that.

"Oh, you poor, unlucky thing."

She caressed her own cheek. Her body remained completely untouched despite the ruin of the room, and she laughed maniacally at the scene.

"Please..."

The last hunter’s voice came out strangled, barely a whisper.

"Please, I have a family. I only took this job because we needed the money. It wasn’t personal, I swear!"

Sarael crouched down, her violet eyes level with his after swiping the table between them and sending it flying towards the other side of the room.

Her expression was almost gentle. Almost pitying.

"A family?"

She repeated, her voice soft.

"That must be nice. Having a family to go home to. Having someone waiting for you."

She reached out and cupped his cheek. Her touch was cold, and he flinched but didn’t dare pull away.

"I have a husband. Do you know what your employers tried to do to him?"

The man shook his head frantically.

"I didn’t! I wasn’t part of that—!"

"I know. You were just following orders. Ordered to kill another target for the Second Prince."

She wiped a tear from his cheek with her thumb. The gesture was tender.

Motherly.

"But here’s the thing, just a slight change in circumstance. And you could have been the one to pull the trigger on my husband."

Her fingers tightened on his jaw.

"Just because you were hired to kill a different hunter doesn’t mean you couldn’t have also killed my husband. My family."

She pulled her hand back and let him sit there.

Then the shadows moved.

They didn’t kill him quickly. Sarael had been efficient with the others, broken spines, crushed ribs, torn bodies. Quick deaths, even if painful.

Not this one.

The shadows entered through his mouth. They pushed past his lips and down his throat, and Sarael made sure he stayed conscious for every second of it.

She wanted him to feel them filling his lungs from the inside, expanding, pressing against his ribs until they creaked.

His eyes bulged. His hands clawed at his own chest, nails tearing through fabric and skin alike. He couldn’t scream. The shadows wouldn’t let him.

"A family."

Sarael murmured, watching him writhe.

"They’ll mourn you. They’ll cry for you. They’ll wonder what happened to their husband and father."

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.

The shadows pulsed inside him. His ribs gave way with a wet, grinding sound. His eyes, still wide with terror, went glassy and still.

"That is what you could have almost done to me. That half-second where the bullet almost hit him? That fear? That waiting? That’s what your family gets now. Forever."

She let the body drop. The shadows retreated, and she stood, smoothing the front of her dress. Not a single drop of blood had touched her.

"Consider it... a lesson in empathy."

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