ORA!!!!

Alicia’s heavy punch hammered the charging Rafi into the ground, carving a human-shaped crater like wet clay dented by a meteor. It was a perfect follow-up window, yet she sprang back, a red leaf blown to safer distance.

At that safe margin, heat flared in her knuckles like a brazier. She blew on her fist, cooling iron with a breath, trying to soothe the burn before it bit deeper.

No miracle, sadly. This wasn’t anime physics. Blood still seeped along her knuckles like thin crimson threads, stubborn as dew on thorns.

“Hey! You kidding me?! Why slap a layer of mana on the surface? What happened to an honest brawl for justice?!”

That was only Alicia’s private fantasy, a lantern she carried in her chest. No one promised a righteous duel, least of all a rampaging Rafi. Telling her to fight fair was a wish you made to moonlight.

“Fine, fine! If you’re doing that, using a little mana on my end isn’t cheating, right?”

A smile curved across her lips like a thief’s crescent blade; five fingers folded into a tight, familiar storm.

Her long sleeves fluttered as if a night wind tugged them. Red mana, thin as little snakes, threaded through her tiger’s mouth and between her fingers. A translucent crimson film formed, a lacquered sheen over bone.

“Feels good. Heads up, little one—no cheap shots this time.”

With a single explosive step, the Yokai’s body howled forward. In a blink, Alicia was right before Rafi, a scarlet shadow crossing the ground like lightning skipping clouds.

Her red pupils glowed like embers; her clenched fist softened into a palm, starlight faintly shimmering between her fingers, a quiet constellation in her hand.

“Inch Punch!”

Her strike flowed like a hunting snake, slipping past Rafi’s blocking arm. In the next heartbeat, her fist kissed Rafi’s belly, precise as a drumstick to a drum.

Alicia’s gaze tightened, steel wire pulled taut. The punch detonated, her power peaking in an instant; she held nothing back, unleashing everything a Yokai’s body could burn.

Rafi’s figure shot backward like a stone from a sling, crashing through two watchtowers before her retreat finally skidded to a halt. A fine line of blood traced her lip, dark as wine.

ROAR!!!

She shoved broken rubble off her back, climbing out of the wreck like a beast from a fallen shrine.

No glaring wounds marked her body, but her abdomen held a purple blotch, a bruised moon where Alicia’s fist had landed.

The ache meant little to Rafi. Her world had narrowed to one red thread—attack Alicia, and nothing else.

Muscle memory stirred like old drums. She snatched a nearby “small” stone—about three Lings stacked together—and hurled it at Alicia’s head, a cannonball wrapped in her fury.

The Demon King is a Demon King, after all. To a newborn Yokai like Alicia, that boulder moved with shocking speed, winged by raw might.

Alicia focused every nerve and barely slipped past the rock, the wind peeling her bangs. In that breath, she missed the second shadow—Rafi charging right behind the projectile.

She backpedaled hard, feet skimming dust. But Alicia’s retreat was a slow tide; Rafi’s advance was a storm surge. Dodging like this wouldn’t cut it.

Her mind spun up fast, like an abacus flicking beads under moonlight. Good thing she hadn’t studied much bodywork—the slim catalog loaded instantly. A clean option surfaced, sharp as a fishhook.

She raised both hands, sighting along invisible lines. At the instant Rafi reached for her, Alicia’s retreat snapped to zero, brakes biting like teeth on steel.

With predator-level dynamic vision, she caught Rafi’s wrist, fingers clamping like iron rings on wet bark.

“Back to you—Borrowed Force!”

A simple skill, as plain as its name, bamboo straight and honest.

Alicia used Rafi’s speed, slid one foot beneath Rafi’s hip like a lever under a door, gave a light flick, and stretched that captured wrist backward. Rafi spun half a turn and hit the ground, a wheel kicked off its axle.

Alicia opened distance again, breath steady as a winter lake. Delight bubbled—so bodywork could be… fun? Maybe she should study this craft a bit, carve its lines into her bones.

“Roar… ROAR!!”

Rafi sprang up and staggered back a few paces. The air trembled—her sonic attack rose again, but this time the sound carried pain, a wounded animal calling to the dark.

Concern for a “comrade” pricked Alicia’s chest like a nettle. Her eyes slid to Rafi’s forearm; several jagged cuts were still bleeding, ugly as claw marks on bark.

—When did she take those?

Alicia didn’t know how that strange wound appeared, or why it lingered on a Demon King like snow refusing to melt.

She only needed one truth: that wound could help wake Rafi from the red fog. That was enough.

“Hey, little one. Plan’s changed. I’m not knocking you out. But what’s next won’t be just a tap and done.”

Her hands opened and closed, gathering storm and settling rain. This time, mana wrapped her feet too. From afar, Alicia looked like someone wearing red gloves and red shoes, a dancer forged in flame.

“Clench your teeth. This is gonna sting.”

Her figure vanished, speed ripping the air like silk—far faster than before.

Rafi didn’t react in time. A burst of red hair flashed in her vision; the next instant, someone seized her arm. A face filled her world, smiling wide—alarm bells screamed in Rafi’s chest like temple gongs.

“Heeheehee—got you.”

Alicia had no idea her smile now matched a final-boss grin, even crueler, even brighter—like a crescent moon with fangs.