Yuta took a step.
The cracked concrete beneath his feet responded with a faint but firm snap. The spiritual blade reformed in his hand, compact, less radiant, but with absolute focus. The air around him felt denser now, charged with invisible tension.
The creature didn't hesitate. It charged again.
This time, Yuta was ready.
His leg pivoted in a precise motion, and his body slid sideways at the exact moment. The creature's trunk grazed past, shattering a chunk of the wall behind him.
Yuta's arm arced in a short, swift motion, slicing the curse's flank with the blade.
A dry sound came from its cracked skin.
The creature didn't roar. Didn't retreat. But it felt it.
Yuta dropped into a low stance, one knee nearly touching the ground. His entire body pulsed with active energy. His hands still trembled from the earlier collision, but his eyes were steady.
'I can't trade blows. Precision only.'
The curse twisted its torso with brutal force. A wide arm swung down in a crushing arc.
Yuta leaped to the side, his shoulder grazing the wall. The blow demolished part of the concrete structure, sending debris flying. Dust blanketed the area.
That's when he activated it.
The Bloodlust Aura erupted.
An invisible pulse radiated from his chest into the surrounding air. It was as if the ground had frozen instantly. The curse froze.
Its movement halted.
Its body tense, but still. Its eyes still glowing, but wavering.
Yuta stood slowly. Spiritual energy leaked from his entire body, like an invisible vapor—compressed, lethal. He stared at the creature with narrowed eyes, his breathing controlled.
"You felt that, didn't you?"
He took two steps forward.
"It's not just power. It's intent."
The curse still didn't move. Its body quivered with minute spasms, as if parts of it debated between attacking or fleeing. Its fingers twitched.
Yuta rotated his wrist, adjusting his grip on the blade. The energy's glow seemed darker now. Colder.
"What you feel… is the difference between your hunger…"
"…and my will to kill."
The slash came fast.
Horizontal. Silent.
The blade cut through the creature's shoulder into half its chest. It wasn't deep enough to kill—but it was surgical. The curse staggered back two steps.
Dark blood dripped from the wound. The liquid seemed too thick, almost oily, and gave off heat when it hit the ground.
Yuta spun on his heel and returned to his stance, breathing deeply.
The aura receded slightly. He needed to maintain control.
'I can't sustain it for long… If I push past the limit, I'll collapse too.'
The curse moved slowly now.
It was trying to regroup.
Silence returned with weight. The Bloodlust Aura still pressed the surrounding air, but its effect was no longer absolute.
The creature's eyes, once fixed and shrunken, began to dilate. The red pupil vibrated with irregular intensity, as if regaining something—will, awareness, or simply instinct.
Yuta stepped back half a pace. His body felt the strain. His right leg was growing heavy. The spiritual blade flickered slightly, as if the flow itself threatened to break.
And then he saw it.
The gash on the curse's chest—the one that had left dark blood on the ground—was starting to close.
Slow but steady. The cracked skin pulled inward. Muscles writhed beneath. No pain showed on the creature's face. Only raw determination to keep existing.
"…Regeneration?"
The curse moved its right arm, its thick fingers cracking like bones snapping and resetting.
Yuta narrowed his eyes.
'It's not just regenerating.'
'It's not afraid.'
The Bloodlust Aura… was failing.
The moment demanded a decision. Yuta didn't hesitate.
He reinforced the blade in his right hand with a sharp clench of his fist. The energy flared brighter—the edge lengthened, solidified, trembling with concentrated rage.
And he charged.
His feet scraped the concrete, and in an instant, his body was in motion.
SHUNK!
A direct slash at the side of the creature's leg. Dark blood sprayed like hot oil.
SLAK!
Another cross-cut at its ribs.
The creature tried to react, but Yuta had already spun.
SHTAK!
A slash across its face—catching the left eye. The eyelid tore, and the eyeball quivered in its socket.
The trunk swung next, whipping with force to crush Yuta, but he ducked and darted to the blind side. His expression wasn't anger now.
It was exhilaration.
His eyes were alive. His body ached, but each racing heartbeat only pumped blood faster.
'It heals. But it can't keep up.'
'I'm cutting faster than it can regenerate.'
SHHRRK!!
A slash at the base of the trunk. The sound was deeper. Spiritual tissue split in layers, revealing raw flesh and dark smoke seeping from the wound.
"You're not hiding again."
Yuta charged straight for its chest.
SHAK!
SLAK!
SHAK!
Three slashes in succession, circling the original wound that was trying to heal. This time, he drove the blade into the open flesh.
The creature let out a short, sharp roar. Not just pain. Frustration. Loss of control.
It tried to grab him.
Yuta stepped back half a pace. The arm missed by inches.
"Stay there. There's more."
The next slash hit the clavicle. Then the arm. Then the other eye.
The curse was retreating now.
Its feet stumbled under its own weight. Its body twisted involuntarily.
It wasn't being defeated by brute force. It was being outpaced by rhythm.
Yuta charged again.
The spiritual blade wavered—the connection was at its limit. The spiritual heat threatened to tear through his internal channels.
But he pressed on.
SHAK!
Another slash at the left flank. The creature's skin seemed frailer now. Its regeneration couldn't keep up.
'If I stop now… it comes back.'
'If I fall now… I die.'
The curse's left arm was the first to fail. It hung limp, powerless. Its knees buckled next. The creature collapsed, both fists braced against the ground, panting, coughing dark blood.
Yuta didn't wait.
He ran.
Punched the creature's face with force. The blade had vanished. Now it was a clenched fist.
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
"Die—"
Another punch.
"you—"
A kick to the jaw.
The trunk moved instinctively. Tried to grab, but missed.
"bastard."
Yuta's leg swung with full force, striking the creature's chest. Bones cracked under the impact. It slid back half a meter, collapsing sideways with a guttural groan.
Yuta spat on the ground, breathing heavily. The spiritual flow was still active, but plummeting fast.
His face was sweaty, his eyes glowing with a faint red.
He walked to the creature's head.
It was still breathing. Its skin was torn, cracked. Its eyes were dull but alive.
Yuta knelt on its chest. He grabbed the trunk and yanked its head back. The creature's body shuddered but didn't resist.
"The end is here."
Cursed energy gathered in his right hand for one final moment.
The spiritual blade reappeared—short, dense, almost solid as stone.
SHKKKTT!!!
A single slash.
Clean.
The head was severed from the body in one motion.
The trunk fell first. Then the rest.
Dark blood flowed slowly, like burnt oil over the cracked ground.
Silence stretched for five seconds.
Then the curse's body began to tremble—not from reflex, but from instability. Its cracked skin split further. Its muscles lost cohesion. The dense shadow forming its internal veins began to unravel.
It was as if the air were consuming the creature.
Dark particles started to float. First from the torso. Then the legs. The hands were the last to dissolve, their fingers still twisted in late spasms.
Yuta stepped back slowly, his eyes fixed on what remained of the entity.
The head disintegrated last.
The trunk turned to smoke.
The empty eyes evaporated in silence.
In the end, only a stain remained on the concrete. An irregular, near-circular ring, darkened like burnt spiritual residue. Even the blood was gone.
Yuta breathed heavily.
His legs nearly gave out.
He sat sideways, leaning against the dirty wall behind him.
'It's over.'
The words came dryly in his mind, still sounding distant.
Then, the notification appeared.
Ding.
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