Rika’s heart pounded in her chest as she sprinted down the dimly lit hallway, her footsteps echoing off the walls. Ahead, she could see Kazuki, slumped on the ground, surrounded by those ominous pink threads. Her focus was sharp, honed in on one thing—reaching him.

The Ghoul, however, just stood there, unmoving, her cold gaze locked onto Rika. Even from a distance, Rika could feel the weight of her presence. There was something unnerving about her calmness, as if she had already decided the outcome of this encounter.

As Rika drew closer, she caught a glimpse of the Ghoul’s face—beautiful, seductive, like a honey trap designed to lure in victims. That face, with its perfect features and icy composure, had probably been the last thing many young men had seen before their demise.

And then, a flash of recognition hit her. This was the same Ghoul they had encountered in the market just days ago. A chill ran down Rika’s spine. Was she also part of this twisted arena? The thought flickered in her mind but didn’t stay long. There was no time for that.

Her eyes were back on Kazuki, bloodied and struggling on the ground. His face was pale, his body worn down from the cuts and exhaustion. The sight of him like this pushed Rika harder. She couldn’t leave him here.

She reached him, her breath heavy, but her resolve firm. Partially kneeling beside him, she extended her hand, her palm steady despite the chaos around them. “Hey,” she said, her voice soft yet urgent.

***

Kazuki felt it—the end. He was on the edge of losing everything. His body was failing him, his mind slipping away as if the will to fight was being drained drop by drop along with his blood. Was this it? Was his incredibly lucky run going to end here? He had survived so many brushes with death, but now, the reckoning felt real. Ironic, wasn’t it? After all the battles, all the fights, in the end, he was caught in the web, both figuratively and literally.

The lady’s pink threads, each one gleaming faintly with a menacing glow, inched closer to him. He could feel it in his bones, in the tightness of his chest, the weight pressing down on him. His breaths were shallow, ragged. His blood soaked the ground beneath him. This was it.

He stood on the precipice of defeat.

But then, something shifted. The Ghoul staggered, a fleeting moment of imbalance—and it was all the opening he needed. Summoning every ounce of strength he had left, Kazuki leapt away, his body instinctively driving him to survive, to get away from those threads that had nearly consumed him.

He hit the ground hard, his vision got even more blurry. Pain shot through him, but it felt distant now, like a reminder that he was still alive, if only barely. His body was bleeding profusely, soaking the ground beneath him. Everything around him was dark and murky, his senses dulled, the world distant. Lying on the ground he looked at the ceiling, it was dark, just like his future.

He was in a dark, cold expanse of nothingness. That’s what it felt like to Kazuki.

For a moment, he lay there, staring up into that void, his thoughts fading. Then, with a trembling effort, he tried to sit up, his body groaning in protest. That’s when he heard it—a voice, soft, gentle amidst the harshness of everything around him.

“Hey.”

The sound of it cut through the fog in his mind, pulling him back from the edge. It was sweet, familiar, and amidst the chaos of blood and strangers, it was like a lifeline. A friend.

Kazuki blinked, his blurry vision focusing just enough to make out the figure standing over him. His head swam, but he knew. He couldn’t see her face clearly, not through the haze of exhaustion and blood, but her beautiful body shape, her voice, the way her silken brown hair moved—it was her. It had to be.

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Kazuki let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. It was Rika.

A bright shine returned to Kazuki’s dull eyes.

But, then she extended her hand toward him, the gesture simple, gentle. Yet, for Kazuki, it was anything but simple.

In that moment, something twisted inside him. His heart raced, a sudden, sharp pang of fear gnawing at his chest. A haunting familiarity crept in. It was too much like his nightmares. Night after night, he had seen himself lying in the same position—helpless and broken.

And every time, a figure would appear, offering him their hand, a symbol of hope, of salvation, or solace. But every time, as soon as he reached out, he would plummet into an abyss, a labyrinth of darkness that swallowed him whole, deeper and deeper, until he was lost.

That nightmare came crashing back into his mind with terrifying clarity. He could feel the coldness of it, the emptiness that followed. The fear of being consumed by that darkness again made his stomach twist in knots. The uncanny resemblance between his dreams and this moment was overwhelming, paralyzing him.

Kazuki’s breaths came out in shallow gasps as his eyes locked onto Rika's outstretched hand. Her blurred figure was a strange blend of comfort and dread, making his skin crawl. The dark emotions swelled within him—fear, uncertainty, guilt, all clashing in violent turmoil. It was too much. His mind screamed at him, telling him that if he took her hand, if he allowed himself to be vulnerable in this moment, he would fall. Again.

It took all his strength just to remain grounded in reality, to fight the urge to give in to that darkness. His body trembled, every muscle tight with anxiety.

Rika’s hand remained there, steady, waiting. But Kazuki couldn’t take it. He couldn’t face that fear—not now, not again.

Instead, he forced himself to his feet, the effort nearly breaking him. His body screamed in protest, the wounds, the blood loss—it was all becoming too much. But somehow, he stood, shaky but standing. He didn’t take her hand. He couldn’t.

“Hey,” Kazuki said, his voice hoarse, broken, yet carrying a forced lightness. His face, scratched and bloodied, twisted into a faint smile.

He tried to mask the storm raging inside him, to pretend everything was fine, but the weight of his nightmares still clung to him, lurking just beneath the surface.

Rika’s presence was a boon, but for Kazuki, the shadows remained, gnawing at the edges of his soul.

***

The chaotic roar of battle echoed through the arena. Screams, the clash of weapons, and the sound of blood being spilled created a symphony of violence that seemed unending. Amidst the chaos, Tanuki stood, blood dripping from the stump of her left arm, her chest heaving as she faced the Poacher who had taken it.

For a moment, she felt defeated. The dull ache of loss mixed with the sharp sting of humiliation. She was fast—speed was her strength, her pride—and yet, in one brutal moment, that advantage had been ripped away from her. But it wasn’t over. It couldn’t be. What if she didn't have her arm? She still needed to survive. She still needed to prove her worth. Tanuki clenched her teeth, pushing back the pain, the doubt. She wasn’t finished yet.

With renewed resolve, she pushed herself back to her feet, quickly distancing herself from the Poacher. Her vision blurred slightly from the blood loss, but her mind remained sharp. She couldn’t afford to waste time. As she shifted her weight, she felt the imbalance, the discomfort in her movements. Running, once fluid and effortless, now felt awkward and wrong. She was fast, yes, but without her left arm, she was off-balance. She knew she had to adapt—and fast.

Drawing on every ounce of her will, Tanuki summoned her Aura. The stub of her arm, still fresh with pain, began to shift. She gritted her teeth, focusing, pushing her Aura into the shape of a large spike that jutted from the stump.

Forming new structures from Aura was no easy feat, and it wasn't something that could be done on instinct alone. It required precision, practice, and a deep connection to one's power—like mastering a complex skill. The more you practiced, the more natural it became, but until then, every attempt was a battle of focus and will.

But Tanuki was no ordinary fighter; her natural brilliance made the process easier for her

The spike emerged, jagged and sharp, like a head of a pointy pencil. It wasn’t perfect, and the balance wasn’t the same as before, but it was something. With the spike in place, she felt more centered, more in control. It wasn’t her original form, but it would have to do.

The Poacher, standing a few paces away, smirked as he watched her, his gaze filled with superiority. “You still got some fight in you, huh?” he taunted, his voice dripping with condescension.

Tanuki’s eyes narrowed, a fire of defiance burning behind them. His smug face ignited something deep within her, something primal. She didn’t need to reply. Her answer would come through action.

With terrifying speed, Tanuki launched herself at him, her body a blur of movement, despite the imbalance.