Reika's breath was steady, but inside, her heart pounded like a drum, its rhythm erratic, chaotic, a reminder of the danger closing in. Her gaze never left the Shikiban, its grotesque form twitching, its limbs unnaturally long and twisted. The dark ichor beneath its decayed skin pulsed, a slow, sickening beat that filled the air with the scent of death. This thing is not natural... not like anything I've faced before.
Every part of her screamed to run—to flee from the monster that circled her like a predator, its eyes glowing with malevolent hunger. But Reika would never run. Her blade, a beautiful curve of silver, gleamed in her hand, and the weight of it was a reminder of who she was—who she had become.
She wasn't the girl who flinched at the sight of blood. She wasn't the girl who hesitated. She was a warrior. And she would make sure this thing knew it.
The Shikiban lunged.
Too slow.
Reika's body moved on instinct, faster than her thoughts could catch up. Her sword cut through the air, a streak of silver in the dim light, but the Shikiban twisted mid-air, its claws slamming down toward her skull. She ducked. The ground shattered beneath her, debris exploding in every direction as the claws scraped past her, the impact like a thunderclap.
Not good enough.
Reika's heart raced. Fear gnawed at the edges of her mind, threatening to take control, to rob her of the focus she needed. I can't let it—
Her mind silenced the thought. She would not let fear control her.
With one swift motion, she twisted her body, pivoting on her heel. The blade sliced through the air again, this time aimed at the Shikiban's arm. It was a clean strike. The sound of steel meeting flesh was thick and satisfying. The Shikiban's arm fell to the floor with a sickening thud, black ichor spraying from the stump, sizzling as it hit the cold stone beneath them.
It's not enough.
The creature screeched in pain, its head tilting back as if laughing at her effort. The air around them seemed to darken, as if the creature itself was feeding on her fear. But Reika would not give it that satisfaction. She wasn't just a woman fighting for survival. She was a storm waiting to be unleashed.
"Is that all you've got?" she muttered, flicking her blade, the blackened blood splattering across the stone floor. Her eyes narrowed, studying the creature. She could feel it—the shift in the air. It wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
The Shikiban's eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, there was an eerie silence. It seemed to grin at her, its jagged, broken teeth flashing in the dim light. The wound in its arm was already healing. The flesh rippled, muscles contorting, and in seconds, the limb was regrowing—its speed unnatural, monstrous.
Reika's stomach churned, but she swallowed it down. It can heal itself. Good. That means it can die just as fast.
She flicked her wrist, wiping the blood from her blade. Her chest tightened, but not with fear—with focus. Every heartbeat was a reminder of what was at stake. Every breath was a promise she'd made to herself long ago: Never back down.
The creature lunged again, its claws aimed for her throat, a blur of movement so fast she could hardly track it. But Reika was already moving, sidestepping with a dancer's grace, the monster's claws missing by mere inches. The wind from the strike brushed against her skin like a lover's touch—too close. Her breath caught in her throat, but she didn't flinch.
The Shikiban turned on her again, its remaining claw slashing at her chest, aiming for her heart. Reika's thoughts were crystal clear. It's too slow. It's too predictable.
She was no longer just reacting—she was controlling the fight.
With a twist of her body, she shifted her weight, her feet sliding across the stone floor with deadly precision. Her sword cut through the air again, this time aiming for the creature's chest, driving deep into its abdomen.
The Shikiban howled in pain, its body thrashing in the air, blood gushing from the wound, the stench of death thickening. Reika twisted the blade, feeling the resistance as it tore through flesh and bone. She pulled the sword back, ready for the finishing blow—but then—
The creature grinned.
Reika froze, her pulse spiking. No... The Shikiban's body rippled, its muscles bulging, bones shifting. The wound began to close, its form stitching itself back together with impossible speed. Her stomach turned as she watched the creature regenerate in front of her eyes. What is this?
But before she could react, the creature's claw lashed forward with brutal force. Reika barely sidestepped in time, the claw grazing her shoulder, the sharp tip of it tearing through her sleeve. Pain exploded across her side, but she didn't hesitate. She couldn't.
Her heart pounded in her chest. Sweat slicked her brow. The fear was there—raw, primal. What if I can't win?
But there was something else, too. Something deeper. A fire that burned brighter than her doubt. Her grip tightened around her sword. I won't let it win.
She rushed forward, her feet barely touching the ground. The Shikiban's claw swung down toward her head, its strike so fast it could've severed her life in an instant. But Reika wasn't there.
She was already moving, faster than the creature could comprehend. Her sword slashed in a fluid arc, the silver blade catching the light before it sank deep into the Shikiban's side. The creature howled in pain as it staggered back, its body twitching, its regeneration faltering for a moment. That moment was all Reika needed.
She didn't wait. She didn't hesitate.
She lunged again, her body like a blur, her blade driving forward with the force of a storm. This time, the creature didn't have time to react. The sword pierced its heart, sinking deep into its chest, and the Shikiban let out one final, blood-curdling scream.
And then—silence.
The creature collapsed to the ground, its form crumpling like a broken puppet. The regeneration stopped. The black ichor continued to spill from its wounds, but its body remained still. Reika stood over it, chest heaving with exertion, her sword dripping with blood.
For a long moment, the only sound in the air was her heavy breathing, and then, a chuckle escaped her lips—a bitter, victorious laugh.
I did it. I actually did it.
But as the adrenaline began to fade, a deep exhaustion settled in her bones. Her shoulder throbbed where the Shikiban had cut her, and her body screamed for rest. But there was no time for that. She couldn't let her guard down—not yet.
She stepped away from the creature's lifeless form, wiping her blade clean. Her heart still raced, but this time, it was with a sense of accomplishment—a recognition of the woman she had become.
Fear? It doesn't control me anymore. I control it.
Elsewhere…
Yeaga stood amidst a battlefield of fallen Shikiban, his bloodied blade held loosely in his hand. His expression was unreadable, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as another creature approached.
"You never learn, do you?" Yeaga muttered under his breath.
The Shikiban lunged.
Yeaga didn't move.
Not yet.
The creature was almost upon him—its claws extended, its fangs bared, ready to tear into his throat. In a single, fluid motion, he vanished. A blur of motion.
A second later, the Shikiban froze mid-air. A thin red line appeared across its neck. It hung there, suspended for a heartbeat, before its head fell to the ground, rolling to a stop at Yeaga's feet.
He wiped his blade clean, his gaze steady. "Next."
Meanwhile…
Daigo and Ishigo stood back to back, surrounded by a dozen Shikiban. Their glowing eyes filled with malice.
"Man, this is bullshit,"Daigo muttered, cracking his knuckles.
Ishigo wiped blood from his lip. "Focus, idiot."
The battle raged on, the two warriors cutting through the enemy with brutal efficiency.
Daigo ducked under another attack, then slammed his fist into a Shikiban's chest, sending it flying into a wall with a sickening crunch.
"Two down," he grinned. "How many left?"
Ishigo glanced around, his expression grim. "Too many."
"Then let's finish it,"Daigo growled.
And the battle intensified.