Chương 16: The Sword Maiden
No missions were assigned today.
Minamoto Sōjun was engaged in his routine training.
Mishima Shiko was similarly practicing swordsmanship in her courtyard. Yesterday's battle seemed to have had some effect; her progress was visible.
In just a few days since she moved in, the courtyard's plants and flowers had been destroyed beyond recognition.
She appeared to have no friends and rarely went out. Her daily routine revolved around sharpening her body and practicing swordsmanship, alternating between the two with relentless focus.
Is this what being a recluse means?
Minamoto Sōjun turned away and headed to Training Field No. 5.
He entered a quiet room at random, removed the fly-head hovering above him, and examined its transformation.
The creature's limbs and body had completely assimilated, leaving only its fly-like head as a faint reminder of its original form.
A single crimson-tipped hair pierced into the back of the fly-head. Soon, a scarlet glow emerged, spreading like liquid over its surface, gradually eroding the remaining features.
The fly-head's facial features began to faintly resemble Minamoto Sōjun's.
Just a few more days, and assimilation would be complete.
---
Minamoto Sōjun and Mishima Shiko only met during missions, with no interaction outside them.
This unspoken agreement was a tacit understanding between them.
After another day of rest, Minamoto Sōjun accepted a Grade 1 Cursed Spirit exorcism mission.
The difficulty level was increasing.
As usual, they met at the designated time and location. When Minamoto Sōjun arrived, Mishima Shiko was already waiting in the car, her face alight with excitement and anticipation.
This time, the mission's target was a hospital.
When they arrived, the outer perimeter was already cordoned off. All personnel had been evacuated, and the surrounding area was eerily silent.
As usual, Mishima Shiko managed the barrier setup.
Wearing her uniform, she was recognized by the guards, allowing her easy entry. Minamoto Sōjun, although not in uniform, entered smoothly by following her lead.
Inside the barrier, the hospital was engulfed in a low-pressure atmosphere.
At the center of this oppressive vortex sat a massive humanoid cursed spirit.
Its head resembled a lump of rotting flesh, riddled with boils and sores, from which viscous pus dripped to the ground. Faces of varying sizes emerged and contorted within the decayed flesh, struggling to escape but held back by some unseen force, emitting a cacophony of murmurs and screams.
The creature's body was patched together from dismembered limbs of varying lengths, which writhed and grasped at the void. Black energy spiraled upwards, distorting the air around it.
This was their target.
The ground was corroded with holes, exuding a foul stench.
Low-grade cursed spirits roamed aimlessly around the vast hospital grounds, which had become a cursed spirit haven.
Their eyes met.
Minamoto Sōjun understood.
The support specialist wanted to fight the boss, leaving him to clean up the small fry.
The fly-head shot forward, connected by a hair that seemed to stretch infinitely.
It gleefully darted among the lesser cursed spirits, its wings fluttering at incredible speed. Its sharp claws tore into their bodies, extracting chunks of flesh, which it eagerly devoured.
Tasting blood spurred it to work faster, tearing and swallowing with abandon. Each time a cursed spirit's attack came close, it swiftly changed targets, repeating the process. The cursed spirits, unable to hit, block, or escape, were being exorcised at an alarming rate.
Minamoto Sōjun ignored it, focusing on Mishima Shiko, who had drawn her sword and sprinted up the hospital's outer wall. She leaped from the top floor, landing above the cursed spirit.
The cursed spirit's many arms reached for her, but she severed them with precision, showering the area in a rain of dismembered limbs.
Using her momentum, she drove her sword deep into the cursed spirit's head, leaving only the hilt visible.
The spirit roared in agony and swung its massive arm at her.
Mishima Shiko reacted quickly, slicing off half of its head with a flick of her wrist. Pulling her sword free, she gouged out several faces as she leaped away to safety, positioning herself behind it. With a crouched stance and a burst of speed, she drove her sword through the spirit's torso, tearing it apart before landing gracefully in front of it.
She spun her sword to shake off the blood and was about to relax when—
A surge of curses erupted behind her, halting the air itself. Discarded limbs reassembled under an unseen force, regenerating the spirit's injuries.
Troublesome.
Mishima Shiko's expression tightened as she braced for another attack.
The cursed spirit's towering shadow loomed over her, emphasizing her small stature.
She charged at its leg, but her blade seemed ineffective, as though slicing water.
Realizing its resistance to blades, she began using the sword's flat edge, channeling cursed energy to maintain its sharpness.
Still, her attacks were too weak against its immense size.
The tide turned. She was now at a disadvantage—or rather, she had been from the start.
She appeared to lack a technique.
As her proud swordsmanship and physical skills began to falter, she grew visibly weaker.
Each strike she landed regenerated, albeit slower over time.
Her cursed energy and stamina depleted rapidly.
Despite the beauty of her swordsmanship, her growing powerlessness was evident.
Refusing to back down, she continued to swing her blade, even as her grip faltered. When disarmed, she resorted to punches and kicks. Each blow was met with retaliation, leaving her increasingly injured, yet she did not retreat.
Kill or be killed—this determination was written all over her face.
What a stubborn soul.
Minamoto Sōjun watched her intently, his moon-like dual pupils shimmering with a faint glow.
He analyzed her fighting style, observing her limits.
Mishima Shiko seemed to be seeking a breakthrough through near-death combat. Minamoto Sōjun allowed her to continue.
Sadly, she failed to achieve it, despite pushing herself to the brink.
It was already impressive that she made it this far.
Minamoto Sōjun stepped forward, intercepting the cursed spirit just in time.
He loosened his hair tie, letting his black locks cascade behind him. One strand elongated and wrapped tightly around the cursed spirit's limbs, torso, and neck, immobilizing it.
The cursed spirit froze, sensing imminent death.
Minamoto Sōjun twitched his fingers, tightening the strand, which cut deep into the spirit's flesh, staining it crimson.
"Zing—"
A sharp sound broke the silence.
The cursed spirit collapsed, its head and limbs severed, its body sliced into countless pieces. The fragments writhed momentarily before dissolving into a fine mist of cursed energy.
Minamoto Sōjun turned slightly, a faint smile on his face as he addressed Mishima Shiko:
"Great job. I'll handle the rest."
Her body was slumped, but her spirit burned as she glared at him.
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