Kazuki felt the chill of the cold, damp hallway as he cautiously approached the figure on the ground. His chest tightened. His breath, ragged and shallow, echoed through the desolate corridor. His vision blurred for a moment as he tried to steady himself, focusing on the woman before him.

The figure—a woman with blood smeared across her beautiful, bruised face—stared him down, her eyes burning with intensity. There was no pity in her gaze, only raw determination. Her voice broke through the tense silence.

“Why did you come back?” she spat, a cruel smile curling on her lips. “This time I won’t let you win!”

Kazuki tensed, his heart pounding in his chest. He had no answer for her. He didn’t even know her. What did she mean by coming back? He had never been here before. But none of that mattered now. Not at this moment.

Talking to her wouldn’t resolve anything either, Kazuki knew this already, cause the girl was in a state similar to bloodlust. Her eyes felt eerily similar to Elyas’ back when Kazuki had fought him.

The air around her shimmered as she raised her hand, and Kazuki’s eyes widened. Threads. Pink, glowing strings appeared out of thin air, weaving together in intricate patterns, almost hypnotic. The woman’s power. It was deadly.

The threads began to move, snaking toward him, swift and unpredictable. Kazuki’s instincts screamed at him to dodge, and he barely managed to leap to the side as one of the threads lashed out, slicing through the air with a sickening whip. He wasn’t fast enough. The thread grazed his side, and pain erupted where it touched. Blood poured from the cut, dark and warm, staining his already ragged clothes.

Kazuki cursed under his breath, his jaw clenched in frustration. He needed to create space, needed to get away from the reach of those damned threads. His feet moved instinctively, backing away from her as quickly as he could, but the threads followed. They were relentless, cutting through the air with deadly precision, each one aiming to tear him apart.

The woman wasn’t staying put, either. She advanced on him, her movements smooth, almost graceful despite the injuries she carried. Her eyes never left him, tracking his every move with predatory focus. Kazuki’s muscles tensed, and he kept backing up, but no matter how fast he moved, the threads were faster.

Another lash came, this time across his shoulder, and he cried out as the searing pain shot through him. The cut was deep, and more blood spilled from the wound. Another thread sliced across his thigh, nearly sending him to the ground, but he bit down the pain and kept moving. He had to.

“Damn it,” Kazuki muttered, his breath ragged as he staggered back. More cuts appeared on his arms, his legs—every part of him seemed to be bleeding, each one stealing more of his strength. He was trapped, and he knew it.

The woman—whoever she was—didn’t stop. Her threads lashed out again, cutting through the space between them with cruel precision. Another slash across his chest; Kazuki bit down the groan that nearly escaped him. The warmth of fresh blood soaked his clothes, and he cursed under his breath, trying to distance himself. But every time he moved back, she moved forward, matching him step for step.

“Bastard!” She shouted. Her eyes glowed with a dark pink tint, while her sclera had turned completely black.

She was getting closer, her threads tightening their grip on the space around him, leaving him with nowhere to go. His back brushed against the wall, and panic surged through him. He had run out of room. His mind raced, trying to find a way out, but the threads were everywhere, closing in on him like a web.

His vision blurred for a second, and he blinked away the dizziness. The woman’s smile grew wider, more twisted as she saw the state he was in. The threads danced around her, glowing brighter as they moved faster, and with every step she took, they grew more aggressive, more lethal.

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Her gaze didn’t waver. To her, he wasn’t Kazuki—he was something else, someone else. But he couldn't think of that right now. All he could feel was the sharp sting of the threads, the growing number of wounds opening up across his body, the slick, metallic taste of his own blood pooling on his lips.

Kazuki cursed again, his fists tightening around the dagger he had picked up earlier. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had. The weight of it in his hand felt insignificant against the power she was wielding, but he had no other choice. He gritted his teeth and lunged forward, aiming for the space between the threads, trying to close the gap between them. If running away didn’t work, then aggression was the way.

His body felt heavy, sluggish, and though he tried to muster his Aura, his energy was too depleted to manifest it fully. He could only enhance his strength slightly—nothing compared to what he'd need in this fight.

The threads lashed out, and this time they caught him. One wrapped around his wrist, another across his chest, slicing deep into his skin. He gasped as the pain exploded, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Blood ran down his arm, slicking the dagger’s hilt, but with a guttural shout, he twisted his body, forcing the threads to loosen just enough for him to break free.

But the damage was done. His body was screaming at him to stop, to give in, but Kazuki’s mind was too stubborn to listen. His movements were sloppy now, his strength faltering with every second, but he refused to fall. Not yet.

The woman’s smile faltered for a brief moment, her brow furrowing as she watched him struggle, but she didn’t relent. More threads came at him, faster this time, and Kazuki barely managed to deflect one with the dagger. Another caught him across the back, sending him stumbling forward with a grunt of pain.

Getting aggressive was a wrong move, and Kazuki realized this only when it was too late.

Kazuki staggered his vision blurring. The threads whipped through the air once more, and this time, they cut deep into his side. His body felt heavy, each breath labored. He grunted, gripping the wound, and stumbled back.

He needed to figure out something—anything—to survive this.

***

Junpei stood still, his eyes narrowing as the Manager’s voice cut through the tense air of the hallway. The Manager, cloaked in his dark, flowing garments, looked as calm and calculating as ever. His black mask gave nothing away, but his tone carried a thinly veiled threat.

"If you’re still not convinced," the Manager said slowly, swiping the screen of the device in his hands, "then let me show you something else."

Junpei's brow furrowed as he watched the screen change. The image that appeared hit him harder than any blow ever could.

Kazuki.

Bloodied. Cornered. The pink threads wrapped around him, cutting into his flesh. He looked barely able to stand. Each breath seemed like a fight in itself, every cut a reminder of how dangerous this situation had become.

"I don’t know what your relation to that kid is," the Manager continued, his voice dripping with cold detachment. "But I know he’s precious enough for you to walk in here, don’t you think?"

Junpei’s fists clenched, his jaw tightening. The sight of Kazuki, battered and bloodied, struck a nerve deep within him.

"You’re threatening me now?" Junpei’s voice was low, but the anger simmered beneath it, barely contained.

"Threatening? No." The Manager tilted his head slightly, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips beneath the mask. "I’m simply showing you the stakes. You can call it what you want, but the truth is... you care about that boy. And he is in danger."

Junpei’s gaze remained locked on the screen. Kazuki was struggling, bleeding, on the verge of collapse. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, the rage simmering, but he couldn’t lose his composure now. Not yet.

"What do you want from me?" Junpei growled, his patience wearing thin.

"I’ve told you before, Sir Orochi," the Manager said, his voice smooth as silk. "Join me. Help me create a world where Ghouls don’t have to hide in the shadows. Where the strongest of us can thrive. And in return, I’ll make sure your precious boy makes it out of this place alive."

Junpei’s mind raced. He glanced at the device again, Kazuki’s bloodied form etched into his memory.

"I’m not your puppet," Junpei spat, taking a step forward, his hand twitching with the urge to strike.

The Manager didn’t flinch. He simply raised a hand, keeping the screen angled toward Junpei. "Maybe not. But you’re not in a position to say no, are you?"

Junpei stared at the Manager for a long moment, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. Kazuki’s life, the chaos surrounding them—it all came crashing in. This man wasn’t just playing a game. He had leverage, and he knew how to use it.

"Choose wisely," the Manager added softly, almost mockingly. "Because you know, deep down, that you can’t save everyone."