Chapter 157: Dear Little Sister

Another fan of Anya, clutching a notebook to her chest, timidly stepped forward. Her cheeks burned red as she stammered.

"M-Miss Anya...could I please...have your autograph?"

Anya’s smile softened. She reached out, brushing her fingers over the cover of the notebook, but instead of signing, she gently pushed it back toward the girl.

"Later." She said warmly. "I promise I’ll sign it after I finish here...And you know me, I never break a promise to my dear juniors."

There was such confidence in her tone, such unshakable sincerity in her eyes, that the student instantly believed her. With a quick nod and a relieved smile, the girl stepped back into the crowd, hugging her notebook close as though it had already been blessed.

But then, Anya’s attention shifted. Her eyes swept the room with calm precision until they landed on the bloodied sea of students sprawled across the floor, groaning and twitching with broken knees.

And beyond them, Charlotte.

Charlotte froze under her sister’s gaze, her heart leaping into her throat. She jerked upright instinctively, like a child caught sneaking cookies before dinner.

Seeing this, Anya’s lips curled in that ever-present smile.

"It seems..." She said, her voice gliding through the silence like a bell. "...that before anything else, I must deal with this problem here. And it does seem...rather urgent. Especially since my own little sister is involved."

The room fell silent, the mob’s chatter evaporating as though they’d all been commanded to hush.

Anticipation thickened the air.

Every student knew this was the moment, the confrontation between two of the Battle Angels daughters. It felt less like school discipline and more like the opening act of a play no one dared to interrupt.

Anya also didn’t shout or rush. Instead, she walked with elegant steps into the sea of broken bodies.

Her eyes moved from one mangled figure to another, her expression unreadable beneath that calm smile. She then crouched slightly to examine them, then tilted her head.

"My, my." She said softly, her voice carrying just enough to be heard. "What on earth has happened here? Your legs...they’re all over the place. Pointing in directions they were never designed to point."

She gestured with one hand toward a pool of blood glistening on the tiles, bone shards protruding through the flesh.

"And look, blood. It belongs inside you, not outside...So why is it there?"

Her tone hovered somewhere between teasing amusement and genuine concern, leaving the injured students trembling even harder.

One girl, eyes wide with fear but fueled by hatred, pointed a shaking finger at Charlotte. "It was her! It was all because of her! She did this!"

Charlotte didn’t move. She stood rooted to the spot, glaring back with narrowed eyes, but she didn’t deny it either. She expected Anya to turn on her, to scold her, to punish her immediately.

But Anya only smiled down at the girl on the floor.

"Oh, I see. I did hear a report that my sister was causing problems here. And looking around..." She gestured lightly at the ruin of shattered limbs. "It certainly looks like a problem. Knees broken everywhere. A messy sight."

The crowd leaned forward, waiting for the hammer of judgment.

Then Anya’s eyes gleamed, and her tone shifted, still amused but layered with steel. "But here’s the thing, my little sister may be cheeky, impulsive, even reckless at times...but she does not go around breaking bones for no reason. There must be context. Two sides to every story."

She leaned closer to the girl, her black-rimmed glasses catching the light.

"So tell me. What exactly did you do? What provoked this reaction?"

The girl froze, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. How could she possibly admit that she had demanded Charlotte kneel on the ground in humiliation? To confess that to Anya would be suicide.

Anya’s voice softened, coaxing. "It’s all right. Truly. Don’t hold back just because she’s my sister. I want honesty. Pure honesty."

But still the girl said nothing, her eyes darting away. And when Anya looked around, not a single student, neither the boys writhing on the floor nor the crowd pressed back against the walls, dared to speak.

Heads turned, gazes dropped. Not one voice admitted the truth.

Anya’s smile widened a fraction. Exactly as she suspected.

Straightening, she brushed her hands together lightly. "Very well. For now, I’ll speak to my sister directly. After all, I’ve raised her since she was small. I know her better than anyone. And there is no way she would ever lie to me. I will uncover the full truth."

Her words made the wounded students shiver, as though she had promised not justice but execution. Even Charlotte, listening from the side, swallowed hard, her nerves coiling tighter.

But then Anya’s tone brightened again.

"But before that...let me help you all."

She crouched beside one girl, pressing her palm gently over the ruined knee and immediately a soft rainbow light blossomed from her hand, flooding the wound.

Gasps echoed as the impossible happened—the blood seeped back into the flesh, bones shifted and knit together, torn skin closed, and in seconds the leg was whole again, flawless, as though nothing had ever happened.

The girl sobbed in disbelief, but Anya had already moved on.

One by one on the others, she repeated the act, knees mending, screams dissolving into stunned silence. The rainbow light shimmered, undoing agony, restoring limbs, erasing scars.

The students looked on in stunned silence, admiration and fear warring in their eyes. They all knew the name of her gift, had heard the stories whispered through the halls, but witnessing it firsthand left their stomachs tight.

This was Anya’s SSS-class blessing—Corpus Law of Flesh, Blood, and Bones.

It was not merely healing. It was absolute dominion over life’s structure.

Her blessing gave her mastery over the anatomy of any living being—human, beast, insect, even aberrations from the other world.

A severed arm could be reborn in seconds, every tendon and vein woven back into place.

Shattered bones could be knit together stronger than steel.

She could even reshape the body in ways nature never intended: an arm in place of a leg, lungs reinforced until they could breathe poison, a heart modified to beat without end.

To some, she was the closest thing to a miracle worker.

But the same hands that mended could unmake. That was what made her terrifying.

With a flick of her wrist, she could sprout writhing limbs from a soldier’s back until his own body strangled him.

She could accelerate cell growth so violently that flesh boiled, organs swelled, and the victim dissolved into a heaving, mindless mass of tissue.

She could soften bones until they bent like wax, or harden them until they pierced through muscle and skin. She could swap a person’s eyes for ears, or fuse ribs into a cage so tight that a victim suffocated within their own body.

To heal or to ruin, to give life or to strip it away—just like her mother Fauna, the Plague Maiden could.

That was the duality of her gift.

And unlike a surgeon, she needed no scalpel, no table, no anesthesia. Her will alone was the instrument, and the human body was her canvas.

She was a miracle-worker and a butcher, a saint and a monster, depending only on what she chose in that moment.

And the most unsettling truth of all? What the students had just witnessed, the effortless reversal of shattered bones was only the surface of what she could do.

The depth of her power was an ocean no one had yet plumbed, a blessing dazzling enough to inspire worship, and a curse dreadful enough to freeze even the bravest in place.

But just as she finishing up healing everyone, the boy with glasses, feeling his pain vanish, staggered up with frantic relief.

"M-Miss Anya! I’ll tell you everything! I’ll explain what really—"

But before he could finish, Anya turned her head, fixing him with that serene smile. "No need."

The boy’s words died in his throat.

"I gave you all a chance to speak. None of you took it. That moment has passed." She adjusted her glasses. "Now I will speak to my sister."

"But...But—!" The boy stammered, desperation creeping in. "I can still—"

This time, Anya didn’t raise her voice, didn’t frown, didn’t even blink. She simply looked at him, her smile unchanged.

That was enough. His courage drained away at once. He faltered, stepped back, and shut his mouth.

Anya gave a satisfied nod. Then, turning with unshakable composure, she began walking toward Charlotte.

And the entire crowd held its breath, waiting for the clash of sisters to begin. Charlotte’s fists were also clenched, her stance firm, almost like she was bracing for what she thought would be the inevitable—Anya’s fury.

But to everyone’s shock, Anya didn’t scold, didn’t glare, didn’t unleash the iron weight of the disciplinary council.

Instead, her lips curved into that confident, ever-present smile, and she stepped forward swiftly, then wrapped Charlotte into a sudden embrace.

"Charlotte!" Anya’s voice rang out bright and joyful, echoing off the walls. "It’s been so long since we’ve met! I missed you so much!"

She pulled her little sister tightly into her arms, rocking her back and forth as if she were greeting a child after years apart.

"I’ve been buried in work, committee meetings, endless reports, rule enforcement. I hardly had a moment to breathe, let alone see you...But now, now I finally have you in front of me!"

The entire crowd blinked in disbelief. Some students rubbed their eyes, half-convinced they were hallucinating.

This was not the fearsome Anya they had expected, but a doting older sister showering affection on the girl she was supposed to punish.

Charlotte, however, turned beet red, squirming desperately in her sister’s iron embrace.

"L-Let me go, Anya! Let me go at once!" She pushed against her sister’s arms, but Anya’s grip was unyielding. "Stop treating me like a child! I’m grown up already! You can’t hug me like this, in front of everyone!"

Anya only laughed softly, shaking her head as she nuzzled Charlotte’s hair.

"Oh my, oh my...my little sister has grown rebellious. How sad for me! In the past, you used to run into my arms on your own. You used to cling to me every day, so adorable and sweet...Now look at you, grown-up, pushing me away. Ah, my poor heart."

"Of course, I’m going to change, Anya! I’ve grown up after all!" Charlotte shoved harder, her face twisted in irritation.

"And I only saw you last week! It hasn’t even been that long. So, let me go, or else—"

The moment she said those words, Anya’s smile sharpened. Her bright eyes locked onto Charlotte’s with an intensity that made the younger girl freeze.

"Or else what, Charlotte?"

She asked in that same cheerful tone, but now it carried a strange weight, almost like a hiss hidden under honey.

"Tell me...What will you do if your big sister doesn’t let you go?"

Charlotte faltered instantly. The room seemed colder, heavier. She felt like she was being coiled around by a serpent, while she herself was nothing more than a trembling rabbit, and just like that her bravado crumbled.

"N-Nothing." She stammered softly, shaking her head. "I’ll do nothing."

"That’s my good girl." Anya said, her hand sliding up to pat Charlotte’s head with patronizing affection. "Yes, yes, such a good girl. Aren’t you?"

Charlotte grit her teeth, hating every second of it, but she didn’t dare protest again. Not against Anya.

Anya finally loosened her embrace, stepping back to study her. Her gaze swept Charlotte from head to toe, pride gleaming in her eyes.

"Only a week, and somehow you’ve grown even more beautiful than before." She said warmly. "I know your blessing enhances how others see you, but still...it’s quite dramatic, isn’t it?"

Before Charlotte could respond, Anya’s hands darted forward to pinch her cheeks. She tugged and stretched them playfully, ignoring Charlotte’s glare.

"And these cheeks..." She teased. "Still as pink and soft as ever. Ever since you were a baby, I adored these cheeks. Chubby, irresistible...and even now, they’re just as lovely."

"Stop it!" Charlotte snapped, her face burning red as she swatted weakly at Anya’s wrists.

But Anya wasn’t finished. Her gaze drifted lower, to Charlotte’s chest. Her smile curved into something sly.

"Ah...but that’s not all that’s grown, has it?"

Charlotte’s eyes widened. "D-Don’t you dare—"

Anya leaned in, her voice carrying loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Yes...definitely bigger than last time. Even bigger than mine, in fact. My own little sister outgrowing me. How pitiful for your poor big sis."

She said, shaking her head in sadness before her grin turned mischievous.

"But now I really must see for myself if they’re as soft as your cheeks..."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Every boy strained to hear, eyes wide in barely concealed excitement. Even some of the girls leaned in, unable to look away.

But Charlotte instantly jumped back, both hands clapped over her chest, her face flushed.

"N-No! Not that! Definitely not that!...Only Mika is allowed to touch there! No one else! Not even you, Anya!"

The crowd erupted into whispers, the boys’ faces darkening, eyes narrowing with murderous intent. In their minds, they cursed Mika with every word they knew, each one silently swearing they’d kill him on the spot for what Charlotte had just said.

The girls, meanwhile, only shook their heads in disbelief, as though unable to comprehend how things had come to this.

Anya only sighed, her expression theatrically mournful. "Such a pity." She said, pressing her fingertips to her lips. "I was truly looking forward to it."

The disappointed and painful groans from the male students filled the room, while the girls began murmuring among themselves, wondering if Anya had any intention of punishing Charlotte at all.

To them, the sisters seemed more like they were teasing and bickering than on the verge of discipline.

And in that moment, the crowd began to doubt:

Would Charlotte actually face punishment?

Or was she going to be let scot free because of her privilege as her dear little sister?