He couldn't help smiling at her, even when his breath was caught in his throat. She watched that smile with irritation twisting into amusement, and finally into something darker. "Ahh… I'm not liking you anymore," she said sweetly, dangerously. "How do you not have even a trace of fear on your face? You think I can't throw you down? Well… you are right. I can't throw you. But if my hand accidentally slips…" Her voice dropped like a blade sliding across silk. "Then it won't be a problem."
Still he smiled. She tugged the string around his neck, tightening it with a sharp jerk. His breath broke, his face reddened, and she waited for his expression to crumble, yet she didn't expect, he will only glare at her.
"You can speak now," she said, loosening it slightly with a smile.
He coughed, coughed again, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve and grinned. "I know you can throw me. Into that damn river or anywhere else. Nobody's behind me, miss. Nobody will cry for me in any way. So throw me. What are you waiting for? But remember…" His smile sharpened into madness, into something wild and cold. "Even if I have to crawl, swim, bite, tear… even if I have to become a demon… I will climb out of hell's deepest pit just to kill you."
And then, without hesitation, he spat at her face.
She flicked her nail and caught the spit mid-air, burning it with a small tongue of flame. The corner of her lips curled upward. Her eyes reddened like something ancient awakening. "Well… you've got guts," she whispered. "But guts don't save anyone. You need strength for that but you have none."
She lifted his chin with a single finger. "I'll give you a chance. Beg for mercy. I will give you three days to think."
He laughed, loud and sharp, like breaking stones. "Mercy? Don't think about it. I will never ask."
"Don't be hasty," she said, stepping back a little. "We have a long time to chat. I will send myself to the place you came from soon enough. But before that…" She gestured toward the black sea below. "You should worry about whether you can reach the shore."
Her words wrapped around him like cold wind. He felt a stinging pain at his throat—where the string had cut earlier. When he touched it, he realized the string marks weren't fading; instead, tiny threads of red light pulsed from them, like blood being pulled out. He looked down and saw the strings themselves forming beneath his feet, rising and twisting like serpents made of silk and blade.
In a breath, he was lifted.
The strings moved on their own, gathering beneath his soles into a floating platform, yet no two strings were bound. They slithered and crossed, constantly shifting. Each string had a razor's edge, thin enough to cut skin without him realizing. His bare feet trembled as shallow cuts began to open. Warm blood ran over the glimmering threads, and the threads devoured it like thirsty mouths.
He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand straight.
Then he saw her. She was coming toward him, walking slowly, gracefully, each step sinking slightly into the web of strings as if she were a spirit, red aura was continuously coming out. But the strange thing was the way she moved. To her, it felt like slow walking. To him, her shape twisted and blurred, eyes lowering and lifting with each step, dissolving in one place and reappearing in another. She wasn't coming fast or slow. She simply was.
He quickly adjusted his posture, putting the hat in front of him like a shield. The sword he positioned behind the hat, his arms crossing behind it, gripping the handle tightly. He had no technique, no stance, nothing taught, but instinct shaped his posture into something fierce.
He inhaled, ready to defence.
But her foot was already there.
He didn't even see her legs move.
Just, bang.
Her kick slammed into the hat with the force of a collapsing mountain. The hat saved him from a shattered chest, but the impact hurled him from the platform of strings. Air cracked around him. His body twisted in mid-air, thrown into violent spins. He felt the cutting wind slice past him, tearing at his sleeves.
For a moment the world was only spinning sky, spinning sea, spinning pain.
The sound that escaped his throat was half-shout, half-choke—a raw, involuntary cry as he tumbled through the open void.
He spun through the air—one turn, two turns, a full 540 degrees before gravity caught him again. The world flipped in violent circles, sky and sea switching places like drunken dancers. His scream punched out of his chest, ripped raw by the wind.
"AaAaAaAa—!"
Through the blur he caught sight of the cliff, so close he could almost taste the stone. His fingers stretched, clawing at empty air, reaching for salvation, for anything that would stop his fall. Just one more inch… just one—
He missed.
"Damn it—!" he snarled, his arms windmilling like a broken machine, rotating full-force, desperate. "Damn woman! Garbage! Non-disposable garbage!"
At the last possible moment, the tip of one finger hooked the very edge of the cliff. The pain shot up his arm like lightning, but he gripped harder, nails scraping stone. He dragged air into his lungs and prepared to pull himself up—
But a shadow fell over him.
She appeared from nowhere.
A single kick landed squarely on his ass.
It wasn't a kick, it was a launch.
BOOM.
He shot upward like a rocket, spine bending from the sheer force. His scream echoed again, louder this time, torn from the core of his being.
"AAAAAaAaaaA—!"
She was already above him before the sound faded, descending with the cold elegance of a falling blade. He barely managed to lift his hand to block, only for her next kick to crush straight through his guard.
Her heel hammered his stomach, sending him flying downward again.
But she didn't let him fall.
No, she intercepted him mid-air, appearing like a phantom. Her palms slammed together in a brutal double-handed smash, like an enraged gorilla executing an execution strike.
CRACK—WHUMPF.
He was flattened against the cliff's upper surface, plastered like wet paper against stone. Dust exploded around him, rocks cracked, and his body sank half a finger deep into the surface.
His hat was already long gone, torn from his hand before he ever reached the cliff. Only the sword remained, clenched stubbornly in his grip as though it refused to abandon him.
The injuries were not fatal, but they were ugly. Blood dripped from his nose, his ears, the corner of his mouth. His chest and stomach were burned with red brush-like marks where her attacks had struck. His right arm trembled uncontrollably from the impact.
Still, he was alive.
Barely...
She approached with soft, predatory steps, her expression shifting from annoyance… to curiosity… to hunger.
Reaching the pit he was half-smashed into, she grabbed his legs and yanked him out like a plucked carrot. Before he even understood what was happening, she cupped his chin and dragged her tongue across his cheek.
"Huhhhh… huHHnnn…" she inhaled, tasting the blood dripping from his skin. "So tasty."
Her tongue traced another cut, savouring it.
"Where is this blood coming from…? Give me more."
She pressed her mouth to the wounds on his chest and shoulder, sucking the blood directly from them. His body jerked from the sudden sting, but she didn't stop. Her breath turned ragged, her eyes growing hungrier and hungrier with each taste.
Then she paused.
Something shifted.
Her smile faltered. A shadow flickered across her face.
"How…" she whispered. "How is this place appearing again? This has never happened before." Her brows tightened, her voice lowering into something confused and dangerous. "You… you really are unusual."
She leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear.
"I will kill you without mercy," she murmured. "And I will take your fate into my hands."
She suddenly erupted in a raw, frustrated roar, her voice cracking like thunder across the bloody clouds."Ahhh… what is happening here? Every single time I came back after rescuing someone, nothing ever dared to touch me. Not beasts, not spirits, not those filthy thread-born things—nothing! But your arrival… you are different. Even she wanted to kill you. Interesting… annoying… dangerous."
Her eyes narrowed, red aura swirling like a storm behind them."Well, brat, you're about to fall asleep anyway. Or… should I kill you first, so you don't trouble me in the future?"
Then she smirked, tilted her head like a predator teasing prey."Ahh… I have an idea. Let's decide with this dice. Even number, you win. Odd number, I win. If you win, I will heal you. If I win, I will stab you as many times as the number shows. Hmmm… how generous, right?"
He grabbed her leg impulsively.She smiled wickedly. "Begging for your life? Cute bastard."
She crouched, grabbed his head by the hair, lifting his face inches from hers."What is your name, hmm? Why are you sm—"
She stopped. He was smiling.Her lips twitched downward.Then crack, she slammed a punch straight into his cheek.
As she reached for his ear, he suddenly twisted and bit her hand with all the strength he had left.She hissed, then kicked him so hard he skidded across the cloud floor, coughing blood, rolling toward the edge where the crimson sea churned like boiling flesh.
He tried to crawl, dragging his battered body toward the sea, perhaps thinking death there would be quicker.
She appeared on him in an instant.She flipped him over like he weighed nothing and sat on his torso, her aura crushing his ribs as if a mountain had collapsed onto him.
Then came the punches.One.Two.Five.Ten.Her fists rained down like a furious drumline of bones and rage.
He tried to shove her off, but his arms bent at wrong angles—snapped, useless, hanging like broken ropes. More blood spilled from his mouth, staining his chin, the cloud, her fingers.
Yet he still shouted between the blows, voice weak but filled with defiance, madness, pain:"You… garbage… you bastard… take it—take it more! More! MORE! Weren't you calling me garbage? Now take it! More! More—ahhh—blood… sweet blood… hunh… hunh…"
She was panting too, breath hot, wild, her face smeared with his blood, her hands dripping red.For a moment she wasn't punching, she was savouring, like a beast who tasted life itself.
Then she struck again, harder, deeper, faster.Finally she stopped, her hands trembling, wrists coated in blood to the elbow. Her face looked like a cracked porcelain doll splattered with red.
She grabbed his cheeks and slapped them lightly, mockingly, her voice trembling with a delighted growl."Huuu… what happened? Hmm? Why are you quiet now? Didn't you say you crawled out of hell to kill me? Where is that fire?"
She stood up slowly, her shadow falling over his barely-breathing body like a winged demon blocking the last bit of sky. Then, without warning, her leg shot forward. A sharp, brutal kick landed directly on his stomach. The sound was wet, deep, as if she had kicked through flesh into something more fragile inside. His body curled, then dropped flat again, breathless.
She leaned forward and wrapped her fingers around his neck, her voice dropping to a cruel whisper."Enough for today. Eventually you will die."She let his head drop like useless baggage and turned away, her steps lazy, satisfied… until her eyes caught a glimmer.
His sword.
Still in his trembling hand.
A slow, delighted grin twisted across her lips, not a smile, but a succubus's hungry curl, a predator savouring a new flavour of torment."Oh… still moving? Still holding it? How adorable."
As he struggled to lift even a finger, she stomped down. A heavy, bone-splitting crack split the air, echoing with the mocking laughter of the distant waves slamming against the black cliff. His hand twisted unnaturally under her heel, but he did not scream. Only a strangled grunt escaped him.
She crouched, lifted the sword with her foot, then bent and picked it up, her expression now the same as someone collecting a toy they planned to break slowly.
"See? This will decide your fate."She showed him the crimson dice, its six carved faces glowing faintly, each face whispering like trapped souls.She tossed it upward.
It spun, shedding red sparks, then fell, exactly on his forehead—3.
Her smile sharpened.
He spat blood at her leg, a pitiful splash against her pale skin. Her eye twitched with annoyance. She grabbed his hair, lifted his head a few inches, then slammed it down with a force that cracked the stone beneath him.
His vision blurred. The sky pulsed. The clouds above the cliff twisted like serpents disturbed by some ancient curse.
She stood again, holding his sword, almost lovingly turning it in her hand. She placed the tip on his abdomen, leaning her weight forward.The sword slid in slowly, like sinking through warm mud.His breath hitched, no scream, just a low, broken exhale.
When she pulled the blade out, a thin spray of blood arced across her cheek, shining like dark wine.
Then she stabbed a second time, angling the blade upward toward his heart. His back arched involuntarily, his legs kicking weakly against the cracked stone. The cliff shook with every blow, as if rejecting the violence happening upon it.
She paused.
"Now… what should I do?" she muttered, tapping her lips with a bloody finger. "If I leave the blade inside, you die. If I pull it out… you die. How troublesome."She sighed in mock disappointment."Should I stab you again? Or maybe… leave you here to rot?"
He tried to speak. Only blood bubbled from his lips.
She crouched, tilting her head, studying him like an insect she hadn't yet decided to crush. "Oh? You're still angry? Cute." She wiped some blood from her cheek and smeared it across his face. "If you had just told your name at the beginning, none of this would happen."
Then she stabbed him again, straight into his neck.But the blade angled just barely away from the windpipe, missing the vocal cords. She watched his eyes with predatory fascination as he choked, unable to shout but still alive, still conscious.
"Hunh… I missed," she said with a playful pout. "What a shame. I never miss. Ever."She flicked his chin with the blade."But rule is rule."
She stood, stretching her arms, letting the wind whip her blood-splattered hair."Don't worry. I don't want to kill you. Not entirely. Your little life deserves a little bit of suffering before leaving this world."She stepped back, closing her eyes."Goodbye, little boy. You didn't die because of me. You died because you're abnormal. Someone changed your path. I tried hurting you to make them appear but I was wrong."
Her expression hardened."Whoever they are… they're waiting for me to leave."
She turned, sprinted forward, and leapt from the cliff, landing lightly on drifting clouds, hopping away like a dancer moving between worlds.
The storm wind howled.
The sea below roared—black, violent, filled with unseen, ancient hunger.
And then—She stopped.
Frozen mid-step on a cloud, as if something yanked her soul backward.
Slowly, her head turned.Her eyes, once bright, mischievous and demon like began to darken, then twist into a horrifying mixture of blood red and ink black, swirling like two storms clashing inside her pupils. Her pupils stretched, split, multiplied like a shattering mirror. Her skin warped, like something beneath it was shifting, pushing outwards.
The air around her trembled.
The clouds under her dimmed.
A low, dual voice two tones speaking in perfect inversion, slid from her throat:
"Now you can start… Remodeling."
Her fingers curled unnaturally, joints bending the wrong way.Her hair lifted despite the wind dying completely around them.The world seemed to hold its breath.
The second voice overlapped the first—one deep like a corpse speaking underwater, the other high like a child whispering through broken glass:
"Life brings death…Death brings new life…Both were always one."
To be Continued...