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"!!!"
Kenta was jolted by the sudden, invasive contact.
"Woc! A silent kill?!"
In a flash of honed reflexes, he delivered a brutal back-elbow strike. But despite his explosive speed, his arm only sliced through empty air. The woman had vanished like a shadow.
"My dear, long time no see. Did you miss me that much?"
Kenta spun around. Kafka was landing gracefully from a backflip, casually tucking a strand of violet hair behind her ear. A joyful, almost playful expression danced on her face as she smiled at him.
"I have so many things I want to tell you, you know~"
Kenta wasn't about to be swayed by sweet talk. From what he'd gathered, a wanted criminal like Kafka—boasting the highest bounty in the galaxy—was about as safe as a lit fuse in a powder keg. Even if she seemed to know him, he was determined to keep his distance until he had the full story.
He subtly surveyed the alley. Dark, cramped, and devoid of sunlight—a perfect environment for a predator to corner its prey. He turned his gaze back to the woman standing before him.
Now that she wasn't just a flickering hologram, Kenta could feel the sheer, magnetic charisma radiating from her. But he was in no mood for appreciation.
"Aren't you supposed to be leading the Trailblazers on a wild goose chase?" he asked, trying to buy time to analyze her movements.
"Hehe~" Kafka chuckled, the sound rich and melodic. "Of course. Those were merely misleading clues I left behind. After all, according to the [Script], they still need to put in some effort to 'catch' me. As for now..."
She lightly tapped her vermilion lips with a finger, the playfulness in her dead eyes entirely unconcealed. "It's our long-awaited time alone, my dear~"
Kenta: "..."
Damn, she's here specifically for me. Faced with a high-threat individual, Kenta knew he had two choices: escape or fight. After precisely two and a half seconds of deliberation, he reached an epiphany.
Bring it on. A real man faces his problems head-on! Kenta felt that if he let her catch him now, he'd be subjected to some "Grandmaster-level" torture. Grim-faced, he began walking toward Kafka. "Yarou... Kafka..."
Seeing him approach, Kafka's smile widened. "Oh? You're walking towards me? Instead of using your Black Flame to teleport away, you're getting closer? How interesting, my dear~"
"Tsk." Kenta curled his lips in disdain. "If I don't get closer, how can I beat the logic out of you?"
"Alright, then let's get even closer~"
She stepped forward, her long legs—encased in purple stockings and black boots—moving with a hypnotic rhythm. Soon, they were almost nose-to-nose. Kenta was a statue of guarded seriousness; Kafka was a picture of serene contentment, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she were savoring a fine wine.
Suddenly, a spark of Black Flame flickered across Kenta's body, and he vanished.
"Got you!"
Kenta's voice rang out from behind her. He had reappeared in her blind spot, his sword scabbard swinging toward her neck.
What a joke, Kenta thought, already declaring victory. Did you really think I'd fight fair? I'm from the Underworld—front, back, it's all the same to me! But as the scabbard neared her skin, it stopped. Not because he pulled his strike, but because he couldn't move.
"What?!"
Kenta felt a sudden, sharp resistance. It wasn't just his arm; his entire body felt like it was being held by thousands of invisible, microscopic hands. He narrowed his eyes and realized that the alley was crisscrossed with near-invisible purple threads. He was caught in a web.
"Phew—my dear~ You still love your ambushes, don't you?" Kafka exhaled, turning around with a look of mock-helplessness.
Kenta: "..."
Damn it! She predicted the teleport?! Fine, I'll just burn these strings—
Before he could ignite his aura, Kafka bridged the remaining gap. She leaned in so close her lips were brushing his ear, her warm breath ghosting over his cheek.
"[Listen to me]," she whispered, her voice carrying a weight that felt like iron. "You can no longer use your flames—neither black nor red."
"!!!"
As the words left her mouth, Kenta felt an invisible lock snap shut deep within his soul. To his horror, he found he couldn't spark even a single ember.
What is this? Reality overwriting? Words becoming law? Kenta was terrified; this kind of power belonged in cultivation novels, not a back alley.
But Kafka wasn't interested in explaining. Her gentle smile remained, but her eyes grew a shade darker, more predatory.
"My Dear"
The click-clack of her heels echoed in the narrow space. She swayed toward him, step by deliberate step.
"!!!" Kenta's face went pale. To him, this beauty looked like a soul-snatching demon.
"No! Don't come any closer!"
Click-clack-clack...
"I told you to stop!"
Click-clack-clack...
Kenta, trapped in the silk threads, let out a desperate, garbled roar of "Yamete!" (Stop!).
Kafka reached him, looking up at the man she had so effortlessly restrained. She leaned in, a fragrant breeze wafting over him, and pressed her lips firmly against his.
Kenta: "..."
It's a honey trap! How evil, Stellaron Hunters!
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