Chương 38: I Don’t Want to Be a Heroic Spirit [38]
The blood-red sun sank fully behind the western mountains, as blue twilight retreated from the sky, making way for a starlit night.
With shopping bags dangling from her shoulders, Baobhan Sith couldn't resist stopping at a few street stalls to pick up snacks.
"Jasmine, see anything you'd like to try?"
"You can choose, Sister."
"Alright, then let's get some takoyaki—it looks good."
This sort of exchange had happened multiple times that evening. Jasmine, determined not to be a bother, had taken on a selfless, almost passive demeanor.
Whenever a choice came up, her thoughts immediately turned to "What does Sister want?" rather than "What do I want?"
Having someone care about her preferences this much was endearing, of course, but if Baobhan Sith could have her way, she'd want Jasmine to show a bit more selfishness, to want things for herself.
"Puff, puff… Here, Jasmine, try a bite of takoyaki. Careful, it's hot!"
Taking a break, they sat on a bench, the stars flowing above them like a river, while a streetlamp cast a gentle, warm glow that pushed away the night's chill.
The light illuminated Baobhan Sith's profile, accentuating her sharp features, making her skin seem even fairer, lending her an almost lifelike beauty. In that moment, time felt frozen, as if she and the lamplight formed a perfect painting.
Ah… I could gaze at that beautiful smile forever.
"Take a small bite first—don't rush… Yes, just like that. Takoyaki can be tricky; the outside cools quickly, but the inside can burn your tongue, so go slowly, and test it with your teeth first."
Holding the takoyaki container in one hand and a toothpick in the other, Baobhan Sith guided Jasmine patiently, as though she were a seasoned expert.
It was as if she'd eaten takoyaki countless times, but the truth was she could count on one hand how many times she'd had it—and half of those times, she'd burned herself. Her expertise was born of painful experience rather than any real talent.
It had been a wonderful day, but Jasmine was still young, so it was time to head home and get her to bed.
They hailed a taxi back. Taxis in Japan were notoriously expensive, with a base fare over forty yen and per-kilometer costs that quickly added up, even for short distances.
But Baobhan Sith didn't want to drag Jasmine, along with all their bags, onto a crowded train. Besides, they weren't short on money these days.
The taxi's interior was far more comfortable than the subway, with white seat covers and no signs of wear or strange odors. The car was spacious, and the driver, dressed neatly in a suit, added to the pleasant ambiance.
As they drove along the highway, the streetlights flickered by like slides in a projector.
Baobhan Sith rested her head on her hand, staring out at the passing nightscape, lost in thought, until a glowing screen suddenly appeared before her eyes.
Only she could see this screen and hear the voice within, so she remained silent, her expression gradually shifting from calm to somber.
The taxi was now on a desolate road lined with trees, far from the hustle and bustle of the city, without tall buildings or signs of life.
"Mister, could you stop somewhere quiet up ahead?"
Baobhan Sith stepped out alone, instructing the taxi driver to continue on, sending Jasmine and their bags home.
"Jasmine, you go on ahead. I'll catch up soon."
That was all she said before sending Jasmine and the taxi on their way.
"What a shame. I was in such a good mood just now," she muttered, as the night breeze played with her hair.
In the next instant, the night sky turned a fiery red as a burning sun rose high, flooding the world with heat waves.
The blazing sun fell to the ground.
The earth melted into magma.
Trees turned to charcoal.
Flames rolled like ocean waves.
From the thick sea of lava, a figure emerged—a single glaring eye fixed on the massive sun covering the ground.
Then, from within the blazing sun, a voice dripped with suppressed irritation:
"As payment for ruining my lovely day…"
What should have been a mass of flames was neatly sliced like tofu. A figure in red appeared amidst the silver moon and the red blaze, her tall silhouette emanating a chilling aura that instantly cooled the air around her.
"How do you plan to compensate me?"
It had been a delightful evening, only for her to be ambushed. Naturally, Baobhan Sith was not pleased.
But as she got a better look at her attacker, a flicker of surprise crossed her mind.
Isn't that Jogo? One of the Four Disasters—Special Grade Cursed Spirit, Jogo… Also known online as "Jogo the Misfortunate."
The one fans liked to call, "Can't beat anyone, only ever challenges the strongest."
But wait… At this point in the timeline, was Jogo this strong?
"Die!"
In that split-second distraction, Jogo launched another attack.
Suddenly, volcanic craters erupted from the walls and ground, spewing columns of magma that engulfed Baobhan Sith's silhouette.
"It's not over yet!"
Jogo roared, his palm firing rapid red-hot fireballs like a machine gun. As the fireballs sank into the sea of magma, the heat intensified, distorting the very air around them.
Three colossal snakes of red flame slithered across the molten landscape, spewing fiery tongues that turned the sky crimson.
When he'd fired off all his fireballs, Jogo leaped high, raising a massive burning sun above his head, then slammed it down with all his might.
The sun, radiating a suffocating aura of destruction, crashed into the magma sea, sending waves surging in every direction.
When Jogo finally landed, he was gasping for breath, but a smug grin tugged at his mouth.
"Just a human. No matter how strong, they can't possibly—"
The words died in his throat as an enormous, blood-red slash tore through the sky, as if splitting the world in two. The crimson blade parted the magma sea along with Jogo's artificial sun, as though reenacting the myth of Moses dividing the sea.
Tap.
Tap.
The rhythmic sound of high heels striking the ground echoed as Baobhan Sith emerged, a dark red silhouette surrounded by fiery feathers, resembling a goddess of flames.
If you ignored the cold, predatory gleam in her eyes, like a snake eyeing its ensnared prey.
At that moment, Jogo felt himself shrink, reduced to a rat hiding in the shadows, while the figure before him grew, looming over him like a serpent coiled and ready to strike.
The instant he recognized this feeling, fury surged, momentarily overpowering his fear.
"You wretched—!"
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