Heroine

"Astarion, I promise to give you a slow and painful death," Lurion vowed silently to himself.

Some hours later

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"Achoo! Is someone talking about me?" Astarion sneezed, his body drenched in the blood of zombies. The corpses of the undead lay scattered around him.

"It was really a good choice to buy this," Astarion mused, admiring the crystal sword in his hand, its blade smeared with the blood of the zombies.

[Ding, a heroine from the protagonist faction is detected.]

"Huh! What the fuck," Astarion exclaimed in surprise.

"Which heroine is stupid enough to roam around this early in the apocalypse? No, wait, all of them are stupid enough to do this," Astarion thought.

"Master, according to my detection, it is the first heroine from the 'Spear Lord' plot of the 'Eternal Apocalypse,'" Sol informed.

"From the Spear Lord plot? Is it Fleya, that stupid bitch?"

"Bingo, master."

"Where is that bitch right now then?" Astarion asked Sol.

"Behind you, motherfuc-*cough*cough* I mean master."

"What?"

"Put your hands up, Astarion Van Vastaril," a voice demanded, its feminine tones laced with annoyance and authority. Astarion felt the cold press of a gun against his back, signaling the seriousness of the threat behind him.

"Look who is here," Astarion turned, his voice dripping with mockery, a mocking smile playing on his lips.

"I said put your hands up!" Fleya yelled at Astarion. She had long purple hair that fell to her back, shining purple eyes, and a pretty face, all framed by the official attire of police clothes.

"Bitch, don't you value your life anymore, since you're yelling at me like that?" Astarion's smile vanished, replaced by a cold, hard expression as he gripped his sword even tighter.

"What did you say?" Fleya yelled back at him, her voice filled with anger and disbelief. Just as Astarion was on the verge of adding her to his kill count, another voice intervened.

"Fleya! What the heck are you doing? Put your gun down," a male police officer appeared, scolding Fleya for her actions.

"Young Lord Astarion, please forgive her for her rudeness just now," Astram, the police chief, interjected, offering an apology to Astarion.

"Chief, why are you apologizing to this bastard? He is the one who made cousin Lurion suffer and humiliated me," Fleya protested, her voice rising in volume and filled with frustration.

"Hey! Did you kill all of these?" Suddenly, Fleya's attention was drawn to the corpses of zombies scattered all around the road, with Astarion standing amidst them, covered in blood.

Her question cut through the tension, redirecting the focus to the aftermath of Astarion's recent battle.

"No, I didn't kill them. Your fat ass came to kill them. Oh, sorry, you don't have a fat ass, but a plain flat board-like ass," Astarion retorted in a cold and mocking tone.

The absurdity of the situation was not lost on anyone present. Here they were, standing amidst the corpses of zombies strewn all over the road, with Astarion, the only living soul in sight, his sword and clothes drenched in blood.

It was blatantly obvious who had dispatched these creatures, yet Fleya's hostility seemed to cloud her judgment.

"This bastard, I will kill you," Fleya yelled, attempting to shoot Astarion, but Astram intervened, stopping her in her tracks.

"Stop, Fleya, you bitch, stop. Stop getting me into trouble," Astram thought desperately. Fleya hailed from a very powerful family, and as much as her actions frustrated him, his hands were tied.

She constantly landed him in hot water with her arrogance and tendency to attack others without forethought.

It was as if she lacked the basic sense to gauge the power dynamics at play, like now, provoking Astarion, a young lord from the esteemed Vastaril family.

Even in the apocalypse, offending someone of his stature could prove fatal, akin to squashing an ant underfoot.

"Chief, let's arrest him. I found him suspicious," Fleya insisted, her gaze fixed on Astarion.

"Sigh! Fleya, we can't arrest people based merely on your suspicions," Astram tried to reason with her.

"But chief, look at him. He's alone in the apocalypse, covered in blood. He's very suspicious," Fleya argued.

"Is this bitch stupid or what?" Astarion couldn't help but wonder at Fleya's inability to grasp the situation.

"Chief, please don't forget our duty is to protect the people and arrest criminals. And if you have any problem with me, just complain to my grandfather," Fleya said, her tone laced with a threat that left no room for argument.

Her reliance on her grandfather's influence was a card she played often.

"This bitch always uses her grandfather, fuck," Astram cursed inwardly, his frustration mounting. Yet, the threat held weight, and he knew better than to challenge it openly.

"Do whatever you want then," Astram finally conceded, washing his hands of the situation.

"Now, now, Astarion, it seems like you will have to come with us," Fleya announced, a smug smile on her face. However, she felt a twinge of irritation upon seeing that Astarion still maintained a cold and indifferent facade.

"If you want to arrest me, just do it. But make sure you won't regret it in the future," Astarion replied, his voice as cold as ice.

"Humph, I won't regret it, you fucker. Now, follow us to the police department. We still have many interrogations to conduct," Fleya retorted.

"Annoying bitch," Astarion thought to himself. Though he disliked being treated in such a manner and was confident he could easily overpower Fleya with his sword if necessary, he had a plan.

This plan required him to be inside the police department, making the current inconvenience a necessary step towards a greater goal.

To be honest, his plan is all about burning the city down.