Location: Cursed Battleground – Edge of the Old District, Tokyo
The ground shattered beneath her feet.
Maki's breath hitched as the special-grade curse roared, slamming down its bloated, misshapen arm. Dust and broken stone exploded outward, choking the narrow street in chaos.
Her weapon was cracked. Blood lined her temple. But her eyes never flinched.
"Move. Just move—!"
She ducked low, twisted her body, and swung upward—slashing deep into the curse's side. It screamed, flailing wildly. But her strike wasn't enough. Not this time.
Its next blow came too fast.
She felt it—death, crashing toward her in the shape of a clawed fist.
And then—
Nothing.
The strike never landed.
Instead, the cursed spirit was gone, blown back with such force it skipped across the street like a stone, cracking through a wall and vanishing into smoke.
Maki blinked.
She didn't see what hit it. Only the afterimage—a shimmer in the rain, a shadow stepping between her and the curse. He didn't look at her. Didn't speak.
A man. Tall. Cloaked in gray and black, a katana at his back. Silver hair—dripping from the rain. And eyes… too ancient for this world.
"What the hell…?" she breathed, tensing.
The man turned his head slightly, as if sensing her tension, but he still said nothing.
Then—
Boom.
The curse returned, screeching with blind rage.
The figure raised a hand, and something—a pulse of absolute pressure—snapped the air around him.
The curse stopped moving. Its body shook, then twisted—crushed in place by invisible weight. A sickening crack echoed, and its body imploded, disintegrating into black mist and silence.
Maki's knees almost buckled—not from pain. But from the pressure.
And then…
He vanished.
No teleportation. No flashy exit.
Just gone.
The street was quiet. Rain tapping broken glass. Her breathing ragged.
"Who… was that?" she whispered.
She looked down—and noticed something.
A small fragment of cursed metal, flickering with faint violet energy, left where the curse had died. Not something a normal sorcerer could make… or understand.
She picked it up, heart still pounding.
Elsewhere – Rooftops Above
Leon's clone stood atop a nearby rooftop, silent, the wind teasing the edges of his coat.
His gaze never left her.
"She didn't break. Even standing that close to me... impressive."
He clenched his fist briefly.
There was something about her.
Something grounding. Unshakable.
He didn't understand it yet. But he didn't need to.
"I'll watch her," he said softly. "Just a little longer."