Kubikiri Tokutei – Prologue | Cyborg-tl

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Kubikiri Tokutei – Prologue

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Let’s talk about something disturbing.

Question: Is it easy to chop off a human head? YES or NO?

I don’t want you to take it in a mental sense, but in a physical sense.

The weapon to be used is a big sword or an axe. The image of the body is that of an adult male of medium height and medium weight.

…… Did you get the answer?

The correct answer is NO.

It is not easy to chop off a human head.

Human bones are as hard as or harder than iron. Moreover, in addition to bones, the neck has flesh, skin, and blood. There was no way it would be easy to cut all of them at once.

There was a notorious executioner named Jack Trocchi.

It seems that Jack’s skill was so bad that he failed to behead many times, leaving the inmates in a state of shock. However, we can’t blame Jack unilaterally. As I explained earlier, beheading is not an easy thing to do. Jack had swung the axe down many times, but had been unable to cut off the head. Jack’s infamy speaks volumes about the difficulty of executions.

What I’m trying to say is that it takes a lot of skill to cut off a person’s head cleanly. Not only skill, of course, but also physical and mental strength is required.

You need to have the arm strength to wield a heavy, heavy sword. The lower half of the body must be strong enough not to be swung by the big sword.    The ability to see the target’s vital point and condition. The precision to pinpoint the most vulnerable areas and places.

And the spirit of selflessness that allows you to kill without hesitation, even if the opponent is your beloved.

When one’s body and mind are far removed from that of a normal person, the decapitator is complete.

In short.

Today, on this day, I’ve been completed as an executioner.

“This is wrong.”

I kneeled down on the execution table surrounded by the masses.

My name is Charles.

I am an executioner man who has chopped off over a thousand heads at the age of 14.

“…… This is just wrong.”

I look at the raw heads rolling around on the execution table and mutter to myself.

I hear the clapping of hands in my ears.

It’s applause for the death of a criminal. The sound of applause is more annoying to me now than the sound of a fly’s wings.

–She deserved to die!

–You evil bastard!

–Well done, executioner!

The people’s voices interspersed between the applause, the voices cursing her, the voices of praise, all of it was just too loud.

The name of the woman I had just executed was Henri Sanson.

Her smile was dazzling.

It was beautiful.

Her smile was dazzling, beautiful, and made the world seem like a pleasant place.

I executed her with my own hands.

“Charles. I love you.”

That’s what she said to me before she was executed.

“I loved you too, …… Henri.”

It was a hot, hot summer.

Under the red sky.

I killed the one I love.

Why did she have to die?

I’ve been searching for the answer to that question for a long time.

 
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