Reborn as the Psycho Villainess Who Ate Her Slave Beasts' Contracts

The monitoring crystals around the bed flared bright red. Alarm enchantments activated, magical sensors detecting the sudden cessation of life signs and beginning to shriek—

Elara flicked her wrist. A pulse of her own magic—controlled, precise—shorted out every crystal simultaneously. The alarms cut off mid-wail, leaving sudden, heavy silence.

The System materialized beside her, tiny face absolutely stricken with horror.

"You—" Its voice came out strangled. "You actually—"

Then it seemed to process what it was seeing more carefully. Its eyes went to the sword, still embedded in the Emperor’s chest. To the angle of entry.

"You thrust into his ribcage," it said, voice shifting from horror to something almost mocking. "You were supposed to aim ’lower’, where the heart actually ’is’. The ribs are higher up, they protect—you just stabbed him in the ’lung’—"

Elara’s head tilted slightly. She looked at the sword’s position with clinical assessment.

"Ah," she said. "First time. Noted for future reference."

"FUTURE REFERENCE?!" The System’s voice went shrill. "Host, you just—this isn’t a PRACTICE RUN—you can’t just—"

"The angle was suboptimal but the outcome is the same," Elara said calmly. "Punctured lung, massive blood loss, cessation of brain function within minutes. The method was imperfect but the result is acceptable."

"Acceptable?! HOST, YOU JUST MURDERED THE EMPEROR!"

"Yes. That was the plan."