Read my new story (CaveLeather)
Game of Thrones: The Sword King
Game of Thrones: From Deserter to Power
Game of Thrones: King of Harrenhal— Garth Greenhand Stat Panel
BOOM!
The deafening roar of a collapse drowned out everything else. Debris, shattered roof tiles, and dust exploded outward like shrapnel.
From the choking cloud of destruction, two figures leaped out, skidding backwards to a halt on the solid ground. It was Kenmei Isayama and Toji Fushiguro.
The Isayama branch mansion in front of them had been completely blown apart by a torrent of violent Cursed Energy. It was shrouded in thick smoke until a flash of crimson blade-light sliced through the haze, clearing the air instantly.
Against the backdrop of ruined concrete and twisted metal, a figure walked out with terrifying grace.
"This... this is magnificent. This is my true power."
Mei Isayama's pale lips curled into an intoxicated smile. She cradled her own face with her hands, looking utterly drunk on the power flowing through her.
Bathed in the glow of dense, crimson Cursed Energy, she looked like a phantom. Her long white hair danced wildly in the energy currents, and her blood-red eyes were filled with a chaotic mix of "bloodlust" and "madness," shining with a bewitching, dangerous light.
"If I had possessed this power sooner, the inheritance of the Isayama family would have been mine years ago."
Her elegant pale blue kimono was stained dark red on one side. This wasn't her enemy's blood—it was her own.
Toji had nearly bisected her with the Inverted Spear of Heaven moments ago. The initial thrust had been just an appetizer; his follow-up slash had practically severed her shoulder and half her torso.
When the "Heavenly Tyrant" decided to fight, he didn't do mercy. Compassion? Sympathy? Those words weren't in his dictionary. Man, woman, or Cursed Spirit—if you were the target, you got chopped.
But now? Aside from the shredded clothes, Mei didn't look like someone who had just been cut in two. As the red Cursed Energy surged, the gruesome wounds knitted together, leaving behind flawless, pale skin.
"Sister Mei..."
Kenmei stared at the woman who looked nothing like the cousin in his memories. The grief on his face flickered for a second before hardening into absolute, freezing resolve.
He had smelled the faint scent of decay on her earlier, giving him a bad feeling. But seeing her shrug off injuries that would have killed a taijutsu specialist—let alone a normal human—confirmed his worst fears.
His premonition was reality.
Kenmei had lost another sister. In the truest, physical sense.
The "Mei" standing before him was dead. Her corpse had been hijacked by something unknown, something that amplified the darkness in her heart and was using her lingering obsessions to pilot her body like a meat suit.
"Isayama family... you owe me this."
Before Yomi was adopted, Mei was logically the next in line. But because her father was considered a failure, Kenmei's eldest uncle, Naraku, passed her over. instead, he adopted Yomi, who had superior talent, and treated her as his own daughter.
To have everything that should have been yours stolen by an "outsider"... it would be abnormal not to feel some resentment.
That was why Mei had worked herself to the bone years ago. She tried desperately to prove she could carry the weight of the family name. She was only a Grade 2 Sorcerer when she hunted down two Grade 1 Cursed Spirits solo.
She succeeded, but the cost was brutal. She spent seventy-two hours in the ICU, hovering right at death's door.
And yet?
Naraku still gave the Nue—the Shikigami symbolizing the Isayama family's legitimacy—to Yomi. He announced it right in front of all the guests at her coming-of-age ceremony.
Kenmei remembered it clearly. Mei had dropped her champagne glass. Her eyes had turned red, and she had lowered her head, rushing out of the banquet hall.
When he found her later, she was curled up in a corner, crying.
It was their secret base at the old ancestral home, the place where the four of them used to play. On the wall, crudely carved with a pocket knife, were the words: "Mei, Sakura, Me, Yomi—Friends Forever!"
Back then, after a long silence, Mei had wiped her eyes.
"Maybe if it's not in my fate, I shouldn't force it. If I keep fighting, it'll just tear the four of us apart."
Kenmei knew Mei held a grudge against Yomi, but it was never enough to want her dead.
Fortunately, he and Sakura acted as buffers. Without them, given the icy personalities of both Yomi and Mei, the two sisters might have cut ties completely—or worse, ended up killing each other.
Now, knowing the truth, Kenmei realized Mei was technically innocent of the assassination order. But the price of that innocence was too high.
Of the four kids in that memory, only two remained.
"Crazy bitch."
Toji rested the back of his blade against his neck, scoffing with visible disdain. His eyes narrowed, ready to go for round two.
"Hold on."
Kenmei stopped him.
"Old man, lend me the Inverted Spear of Heaven."
Toji blinked, annoyed. "Hah? Boss, don't you still have my Split Soul Katana?"
"Cut the crap and give it to me."
Toji was a talker and loved to complain, but seeing the look on Kenmei's face, he reluctantly handed it over.
Kenmei had a reason. Both the Split Soul Katana and his own Prospero Blade dealt direct damage to the soul.
If there was even a sliver of the real Mei left, he wanted to preserve her soul as much as possible. He wanted to liberate her from this filth, not shred her spirit into oblivion.
Snatching the jagged dagger from Toji, Kenmei gripped the handle tight.
WHOOSH.
He vanished.
The next second, before the possessed Mei could even react, the pale blade tore through her.
Her torso, her arms, her body—sundered in an instant. Boiling blood sprayed into the air, painting a gruesome picture against the sky.
"That's the first time."
As Mei wailed in agony, her body began to knit itself back together. Kenmei didn't wait. He spun around, reversed his grip on the dagger, and drove it forward again.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
He punched several clean holes through her vital organs before effortlessly decapitating her.
"Second time."
This "Mei" wasn't truly immortal.
Kenmei had noticed that every time she regenerated, the volume of that crimson Cursed Energy diminished. She was running on a battery.
He just had to kill her enough times to drain it dry.
"Goodbye, Sister Mei."
Blood splattered onto Kenmei's face and clothes. His vision blurred—maybe from the blood, maybe from tears—but his blade didn't hesitate for a microsecond.
Every time she regenerated, he dealt a fatal blow.
Cycle. Repeat.
The brutality was mechanical. It was efficient. It was so cold that even Toji Fushiguro felt a chill down his spine watching it.
Seeing the kid red-eyed, weeping, yet swinging the butcher's knife at his own family member with absolute precision... it was terrifying.
Finally, Mei stopped moving. She stopped healing.
In the ruin of her chest, a blood-red stone pulsed.
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