Meanwhile, Kira was walking along a separate path within the dungeon, the route Raito had instructed her to take. Ten undead guards followed silently behind her, their hollow eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.

"This isn't going to be easy," she muttered under her breath. "Hunters aren't supposed to enter a dungeon alone. He's strong, but if the two of us were together, it'd be different. Separated like this… anything could happen."

Her steps echoed off the walls as unease crept into her voice. "Even a B-rank monster takes a whole B-rank party, six people, to take it down. I could handle that alone, maybe. But if I run into an A-rank… or worse, an S-rank…"

She trailed off, tightening her grip on her blade. "Still, since he said the one he's fighting is even stronger, I just have to keep moving. Doesn't matter. I'll keep going and see if there's anyone still alive."

With that, Kira pressed forward, her undead guardians following in formation as the darkness of the dungeon seemed to swallow them whole.

Kira kept walking. The dungeon was silent, too silent. Then the world snapped for a heartbeat, an overload of blood-red everywhere, like someone had spilled a scene of slaughter across reality.

It snapped back to normal.

"What the hell was that?" she whispered. Her pulse sped. The flash didn't feel like a trick of the eyes; it felt like a sign.

All the undead behind her passed by as if they hadn't seen anything. They walked on.

Kira frowned. The kitted corpses sometimes flickered with instinct, simple priorities drawn to threats their master sensed. If they didn't react, whatever was ahead wasn't just dangerous; it was wrong.

Her breath tightened. Have I lost my nerve? she wondered. She was one of the strongest female hunters in the country. Alone in a B-rank corridor she should be calm. Yet the memory of that crimson wash left a cold trace.

She forced herself forward, sword in hand. She hated being afraid. She hated being alone.

The undead lagged for a moment, then obeyed her command to move and resumed formation. Kira's lips quirked. So he felt it too, she thought. Raito had told them to keep moving while he handled whatever was pressing them back. He trusted his instincts. Good. That kept her alive.

They had gone a few steps when the air shifted again. This time it stayed.

A woman sat on a jagged rock ahead. Tall. Beautiful in a way that should have meant peace, except her gown was soaked in dark, dried blood and her hair hung like an obsidian waterfall. Her eyes glowed a pure, luminous crimson. From her back, dozens of threadlike veins unfurled and writhed, spider-legs of living blood that scraped the air with soft, hungry sounds.

Kira's stomach dipped. On the floor at the woman's feet lay hunters who had been sent here. Four of them. Heads severed, limbs severed, their bodies rearranged into mutilated tableaux. Only one remained conscious and gasping.

A bitter nausea rose in Kira's throat. She swallowed it down. This is not the first time I've seen blood, she told herself. Don't puke. Don't hesitate.

The woman laughed, a sound like knives being dragged across glass. "Hey. You. Come here," the voice hissed, and the crimson eyes turned on Kira.

Pressure rolled off the thing like a physical wind. It was ancient, hungry, and not human. A whisper clicked in the back of Kira's head: cursed spirit, blood manipulator. She'd read about it in association files, a predator that soaked up memories and slaughtered with ritualized cruelty.

The cursed spirit rose from the rock and glided down. Tendrils of blood-threads skittered like spider-legs, probing the air.

"Are you my next meal?" it crooned. "Have you come here so I may taste you?"

Kira stepped forward. Her sword felt heavy and light at once, heavy with meaning, light with the confidence she had forced into herself. "Let her go," she said, gesturing to the twitching hunter. "Untie her. I won't make you fight twice."

The spirit's laughter peeled, high and pleased. "Ha ha ha, weak one. What makes you think you can command me? You will be my supper."

Kira's jaw set. The dungeon was quiet except for that laugh and the soft scrape of blood-threads. The undead shuffled in place behind her, waiting on her word.

She let her hand tighten on the hilt.

This is what a real fight smells like. The warning in her chest was clear and cold. And I will not be eaten.

A sliver of cold light skimmed across the cavern. The hunter instinct sharpening. Kira braced. The cursed spirit smiled, and the blood in the air leaned in like tides.

"Come at me. Do what you want. We're here, beautiful lady. I wonder how you'll taste, how your blood will taste," the cursed spirit purred.

Kira's hands trembled. She forced herself to breathe slow. Am I losing myself? she wondered. I'm one of the top female hunters, not just in the country, but in the world. Why am I shaking? Her right hand shook in her grip because this wasn't ordinary danger. This felt like something stronger than any A-rank she'd fought. The thing in front of her radiated S-rank malice.

The cursed spirit cocked its head, amused. "You're an A-rank? Hah. I'm an S-rank predator. Shall I taste you now?"

Kira's jaw tightened. She drew herself up. The doubt was a hot coal she'd stamp out. I am Fujisaka Kira. I don't back down. She stepped forward.

"Come," the cursed spirit invited. "Let me taste your blood."

Kira didn't wait twice. She ran.

Her sword flared blue-hot in her hands, light like a blade forged from moonlight. She swung. The cursed spirit laughed and bent away with a speed that matched her own, faster, cleaner, mockingly effortless. Every dodge showed it was reacting before she finished thinking.

Why won't she fight back properly? Kira's mind cut to focus. Is she mocking me?

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.