Junpei stood frozen, his mind swirling in a torrent of thoughts as he stared at the screen. The image of Kazuki, bloodied and trapped by those pink threads, cut deeper than any wound. His hands balled into fists, and he felt the weight of the Manager’s words pressing down on him, pushing him into a corner.

His thoughts raced. He wanted to run straight to Kazuki’s aid, but he couldn’t. Right now, what mattered most was getting Kazuki and the others out of this facility—away from the chaos that was about to engulf them all. He couldn’t let the kids get caught in the middle of a war between the Poachers and the Ghouls.

His instincts screamed to strike, to lash out, but his face remained calm, his eyes focused. He couldn’t afford to let his emotions run wild now. Not here. Not in front of this man.

The Manager tilted his head, watching Junpei closely. "So, what do you say?" His voice carried a subtle pressure, like a vice tightening around Junpei’s resolve. "Will you join me, or should I leave your precious kid to his fate?"

Junpei opened his mouth, his heart pounding against his chest. He didn’t want to give in, but the image of Kazuki, slumped and bleeding, weighed heavily on his soul.

"I—" Junpei started, but the words caught in his throat.

Suddenly, there was a shift on the screen. Junpei's sharp eyes noticed it instantly. A projectile—something fast, precise—struck the lady controlling the threads from her behind, hitting her hard enough to make her stagger. She lost her grip on the deadly pink lines, which loosened just enough for Kazuki to break free.

Junpei’s eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat as Kazuki, without wasting a second, scrambled away from the threads and collapsed onto the floor. He looked exhausted, his body trembling from blood loss and exhaustion. But he was alive. He had bought himself a moment of safety.

The woman—covered in blood, yet eerily calm—stood there, looking behind, away from Kazuki. But there was something different in her stance now. That hit had shaken her, if only for a moment.

The Manager’s lips curled beneath his mask.

***

Rika’s footsteps echoed down the narrow corridors as she sprinted, her heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of her feet. This place was a labyrinth, twisting halls and intersecting paths that seemed to lead nowhere. But she couldn’t afford to slow down, couldn’t let the confusion of this maze stop her. There was only one thing guiding her now—Kazuki’s scent. That strange, unique smell she’d come to recognize since meeting him.

It wasn’t the same as before, though. This time, it was bloodier, heavier—almost rotten, like something decayed. But beneath that raw, violent edge, the familiarity still lingered, faint but present, urging her to keep moving. That was him. She was sure of it.

She pressed on, weaving through the maze of hallways, her heightened senses picking up every subtle shift in the air, every sound that felt out of place. Her nose twitched as she caught the scent growing stronger, closer.

She reached a locked doorway, stopping only for a brief moment. The urge to force it open tugged at her, but she didn’t waste time. Instead, she veered left, darting down an adjacent hallway, the smell intensifying.

And then she saw him.

Kazuki stood at the center of the hallway, bloodied and surrounded by pink threads made of Aura, thin yet dangerous. His body looked battered, the sharp lines of the threads cutting into him as they tightened around his form. His eyes, though glowing with a faint red, were weary, his body barely holding on.

In front of him stood a woman, a Ghoul, her back facing Rika. There was something about her, something that tugged at Rika’s memory, but she didn’t have time to piece it together. Her instincts took over.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Without a second thought, she raised her hand, her cyan Aura crackling to life, swirling around her in a vibrant hue. She focused it into a sharp projectile, solidifying it with precision. With a surge of power, she hurled it toward the woman, her Aura-augmented strength propelling the projectile at high speed.

It cut through the air with a sharp whistle, heading straight for the female Ghoul, who was too focused on Kazuki to notice the attack coming from behind.

Rika didn’t wait to see the outcome. Her body was already moving forward, her Aura pulsing around her, ready to protect Kazuki at any cost.

***

Tanuki stood amidst the chaos, her breath steady, yet her heart pounded with the rhythm of the battle. Blood splattered the ground around her, mingling with the dust and debris. The air was thick with the stench of death and the screams of the dying, a cacophony of loss that echoed in every corner of the arena. Three Poachers had already fallen by her hand, their blood now staining her clothes. Several of her own men had fallen, too. It wasn’t the first time she had faced such carnage, but it never got easier.

She could see Blackthrone in the distance, his monstrous form slicing through Poachers with ruthless precision, a one-man hurricane of destruction. But her focus wasn’t on him. Not yet.

Sharp blades made of her Aura extended from the sides of her arms, glowing faintly against the dim light of the arena. They were sleek, dangerous extensions of her will. She remembered the inspiration for them—back when she was younger, obsessively playing that turn-based RPG, where one of her favorite pets had similar blades, though theirs were made of leaves. It had become more than a game to her. That design had become the foundation of her fighting style. And over the years, she’d poured countless hours into mastering it, turning those blades into lethal weapons.

Speed was her domain. The faster she moved, the deadlier she became. The blades on her arms didn’t just cut—if she was fast enough, all she needed to do was pass by an enemy, and the damage would be done. And in this chaos, her speed made her untouchable.

As she ran, her Aura blazing like a storm around her, she caught sight of another Poacher approaching from the side. He was armed with a jagged machete, his face twisted into a snarl of hatred. His movements were clumsy, desperate. Easy prey.

Tanuki moved before he could even register her presence, her body a blur of motion. She dashed toward him, her blades slicing through the air. The moment she passed him, a thin line of red appeared on his chest, followed by a spurt of blood. He staggered, trying to swing his machete in retaliation, but he was too slow. Much too slow.

Tanuki spun around, ducking beneath his swing, her blades catching the light as they arced upward. A clean cut—one sharp and fast enough to finish him before he could react. The Poacher fell to the ground in a heap, his weapon slipping from his fingers.

She stood over his body for a brief moment, her breath calm, her eyes scanning the battlefield for the next target. The blades shimmered along her arms, humming with power. Speed, precision, and death—these were her companions.

And there was still much more blood to spill.

Just then, another Poacher came into Tanuki’s sight. He stood still, his posture confident, arms loose at his sides as if he didn’t even consider her a threat. His eyes, cold and unflinching, held a gaze of superiority. That look alone set something off inside her. A fire of rage ignited, consuming her thoughts.

Without hesitation, she bolted toward him, her speed unmatched, her blades ready to strike. The air whipped around her as she dashed forward, her Aura glowing with lethal intent. She aimed for his chest, but the Poacher moved at the last second, effortlessly parrying her attack with the flat of his blade.

Tanuki’s eyes widened in surprise, but she didn’t stop. She spun, her arm-blades slicing through the air, but again, he deflected her strikes with ease. Each slash was met with perfect timing, his movements calm and precise. No wasted motion.

Frustration began to build. She increased her speed, launching a rapid series of attacks, but no matter how fast she moved, the Poacher kept up. He blocked and parried, his expression never changing. It was as if he was toying with her.

And then, in the middle of her next strike, she felt it—a sharp, burning pain in her thigh. She gasped as his dagger pierced her flesh, and before she could react, her leg buckled beneath her.

A wave of paralysis flooded her muscles, and she stumbled, her speed vanishing in an instant. Her leg refused to follow her command, dead weight beneath her body. Panic flared in her chest.

Her eyes darted to the Poacher, who stepped closer with a chilling calmness. Before she could defend herself, he swung his blade in a swift arc.

Her world tilted.

In the next second, her left arm was gone, severed cleanly from her body. Blood sprayed into the air as the pain hit her like a freight train, overwhelming, suffocating.

Tanuki staggered, her breath ragged, her body unable to move the way she needed it to. All she could do was stare at the ground in shock as her severed arm fell to the floor in front of her.