She forced herself to stop wondering and do. She drove her blade toward the spirit's chest. The spirit blurred and the tip of Kira's blade nicked shoulder and arm — flesh tore, the wound dripping, but as the arm separated it seeped and knit back together. The threadlike veins on the spirit's back twitched like spider legs; the flesh reformed as if nothing had happened.

"Did you just… hurt me?" the cursed spirit hissed, surprised and angry. "Do that again and I'll kill you."

Kira smiled through the rush of adrenaline. She moved to cut again — and the spirit vanished.

A whisper curled in her ear.

Kira spun.

The cursed spirit's palm slammed into her face. A fingernail — a blade of bone — dug into her cheek, pain flaring white-hot. It lifted her by the face, and the world tilted. Blood welled at the wound.

"How dare you make me feel pain," the spirit spat, venom cool. "You bastard. I was going easy on you. I could have killed you anytime."

Kira's knees trembled, but the warrior inside steadied her. She tasted iron and fury.

The cursed spirit's threads scraped the air; the smell of old blood thickened.

She wiped her cheek. Her voice was level. "Let her go."

The cursed spirit laughed again — a sound like a blade drawn across a bottle. "You think you can order me? You will be my supper."

Kira tightened her grip on the hilt. Her breath matched her heartbeat. It was time.

She launched herself — not fast, but precise. Her blade found the gap between tendon and thread. Blood sprayed in a dark curtain. The spirit shrieked, the sound bending the dungeon stones, and its red eyes flared with honest pain.

But it healed — because this thing fed on blood and memory. It reknit its arm, and now anger blended with hunger.

"You fight well," it hissed. "But you will be meat."

Kira's reply was a low, cold smile. "Not today."

She lunged again — a single, clean incision aimed where flesh met vein. The cursed spirit's threads twined into a shield, and for a heartbeat Kira thought she'd failed — then the blade found a seam. The spirit's laugh cut off in the middle, replaced by a wet, animal sound as one thread snapped.

The undead shuffled forward, tasting the change; the room's pressure shifted. Kira remained steady, sword angled, eyes bright.

The cursed spirit staggered, then — with a fluid, predatory grace — dissolved into the blood-veins, sinking into the floor like smoke.

Kira kept her blade ready until the last thread slackened and the red eyes dimmed. She breathed out, long and hard. The wounded hunter at the rock coughed awake, clawing at her bonds; the three mutilated bodies stilled, their tortured poses relaxing as if a taut string had been cut.

"This isn't going to be easy," Kira muttered, her eyes fixed on the figure before her. "I'm sure she's a cursed spirit — and not just that. She specializes in blood. She's a blood spirit."

At the same time, Kira could tell the creature was still holding back. She's an S‑Rank monster, Kira thought. Maybe she's just having fun with me. The least I can do is try to end this before she gets serious. Because the moment she decides to go all out, I'm dead.

Her grip on her sword tightened. She can manipulate blood, and she hasn't even used that on me yet. I have to stay strong.

The blood spirit rose from the ground again, her crimson aura pulsing. The air trembled with the smell of iron.

Two of the undead nearby suddenly sprinted forward, rushing toward Kira. She stood ready, watching the cursed spirit's every move as it slowly lifted one arm toward her.

Then it happened.

The blood pooled across the ground — the blood of hunters she had killed moments ago, still fresh — began to rise into the air. The liquid twisted, pulling together, condensing, shaping itself into sharp crimson arrows.

They fired forward, moving with terrifying speed — faster than Kira could react. She barely had time to register what was happening.

The blood arrows flew straight for her chest.

She couldn't dodge.

But then, two undead threw themselves in front of her. The projectiles pierced through them, shattering bone and spraying dark blood everywhere.

Kira's eyes widened as she jumped back, landing hard on her heel. Her heart hammered.

Before she could breathe, more blood began to rise — this time, forming into long, glistening spears. They floated, aimed directly at her.

"Damn it," Kira hissed, breaking into a run. The spears followed her instantly, moving like guided missiles. She turned sharply — they turned too. She jumped — they followed. She twisted behind a broken pillar — they curved around it, chasing her relentlessly.

If one of those things pierces me, I'm finished!

The realization hit her like ice. She's toying with me. She knows she's stronger. She can feel it.

"Damn it!" Kira shouted aloud. "She's an S‑Rank monster… I'm too weak!"

Her teeth clenched as she rolled behind cover again, blood spears slamming into the stone.

If it were Raito here, she thought bitterly, he wouldn't be this helpless.

Her hands trembled for only a moment — then steadied. The fear didn't fade, but she forced it down.

The blood spirit smiled across the dungeon floor, her voice echoing like a hymn of mockery. "Run all you want, little hunter. You can't hide from blood."

Kira exhaled sharply, eyes narrowing. "We'll see about that."

Kira skidded to a stop against the wall, planting her feet. The blood-spears weaved toward her in cruel zigzags. She drew the sword, and it ignited with a fierce blue glow.

"Current scale: Volt Release. 15,000 volts," she declared, her voice steady and resolute.

She met the nearest blood-arrow with a swift, precise slash. Electricity arced along the blade, crackling violently as the blood shattered into mist and evaporated instantly. Kira brought the sword close to her lips and exhaled, a thin plume of smoke curling from the charged steel.

"Playtime's over. Time to take this to the next level. I'm ready."

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