Chapter 334: Tailless Rampage
Miyabi froze in her tracks. She lowered her gaze to the blade of Tailless resting in her grip. The steel remained polished to a mirror shine, perfectly reflecting the slight, troubled furrow of her brow. Yet, upon closer inspection, a tiny anomaly marred the pristine edge. Near the very tip of the weapon clung an almost imperceptible speck of unknown aether energy residue, pulsing with a faint, erratic fluctuation.
It was a lingering trace from the previous warehouse ambush. She must have accidentally picked up the contaminant while defending Perlman and slicing through that barrage of specialized ammunition. Now, bathed in the dense, oppressive atmosphere of the Hollow, this inconspicuous speck of aether residue began to connect. It fed off the ambient corruption, quietly but violently triggering the inherent, volatile characteristics sealed within Tailless.
The katana in Miyabi's hand began to hum uncontrollably. A high-pitched, metallic whine tore through the air as blinding red light erupted from the steel. The previously docile flow of energy vanished, instantly replaced by a violent, roaring torrent of crimson fox-fire. The spectral flames leaped from the hilt, coiling aggressively around the young swordswoman's arms and shoulders. A fierce, circular gale of wind pressure exploded outward with her at the epicenter. The miniature hurricane roared, violently shoving aside heavy gravel, shattered concrete, and jagged metal fragments, carving out an ever-expanding crater of cleared ground.
The sheer force of the gale nearly knocked Wise off his feet. He threw his arms up, burying his face into his sleeves to shield his eyes from the stinging debris. He could only squint through the narrow gap in his guard to observe the chaotic storm raging around the Section 6 Chief.
Far more unnerving than the physical destruction was the sudden, oppressive weight crashing down on the spiritual plane. Ghostly whispers bypassed the air entirely, burrowing like parasitic worms directly into their minds. The voices dripped with a sickeningly sweet temptation and corrosive malice, echoing in an endless, overlapping loop.
"Slash..."
"Slash them..."
"Slash... and you will be free..."
It was not a single voice, but a wretched amalgamation of countless broken wills. The psychic static bled with pure resentment, unhinged violence, and a desperate, clawing yearning for release. This phantom chorus frantically battered against Miyabi's mental defenses. They sought to drag her consciousness down into an abyss of endless murderous desire, attempting to force her to surrender control and fully unleash the terrifying, sealed power within the blade.
Miyabi's slender frame trembled under the strain. Her eyes, usually so cool, sharp, and calculating, now glazed over with a hollow, agonizing struggle. Her knuckles turned bone-white as she gripped the hilt of Tailless with terrifying force. Her jaw locked, a visible tremor running up her arms as she fought a desperate, invisible life-and-death battle against the rampaging entity trying to usurp her mind.
Wise felt his stomach drop. The scene playing out before him made it painfully obvious—the weapon was actively turning against its master.
His gray eyes darted across the scoured earth, quickly locking onto the sleek black scabbard that had been flung aside in the initial blast. Both his sharp intuition and years of Proxy experience screamed the same conclusion. That scabbard was not just a carrying case; it was the primary physical seal restraining Tailless. The blade had to be sheathed. Now.
Without a second thought, Wise lunged forward, dropping to one knee to snatch the seemingly unremarkable sheath from the dirt. The moment his fingers wrapped around the lacquered wood, an unnatural, icy chill seeped into his skin. The scabbard itself pulsed with a heavy, anchoring weight, radiating a distinct, calming suppression field.
He drew in a sharp breath, lowered his center of gravity, and threw his weight forward against the howling gale. The wind threatened to rip him right off his feet, but he forced himself to advance, slowly and painstakingly closing the distance to the center of the storm. Even in this crisis, his analytical mind remained active. He deliberately stumbled, letting his shoulders slump and his footing slip. He made his movements appear incredibly clumsy and agonizingly strenuous, panting heavily with every step. He was perfectly executing the role of a helpless, ordinary civilian barely managing to survive against overwhelming supernatural forces.
"Miss Miyabi!" Wise shouted, desperately trying to pierce through the psychic corrosion and awaken her submerged consciousness. However, his voice was instantly swallowed by the roaring wind and the deafening chorus of mental whispers.
Miyabi did not even twitch. Her entire being was completely consumed by the internal war against the rampaging will. The external world had faded away; mundane sounds simply could not breach her fractured focus.
Wise ground his teeth together. Dropping the helpless civilian act for just a fraction of a second, he channeled his own formidable mental fortitude, drew air deep into his lungs, and roared over the tempest.
"Miyabi! Snap out of it!"
The command, laced with his own unyielding will, sliced through the thick, suffocating fog of whispers like a physical blade.
Miyabi's shoulders jolted violently. A sudden, sharp flicker of clarity ignited within her vacant eyes, shattering the momentary daze. Breathing raggedly, she forced her neck to turn, her gaze locking onto Wise. She saw him fighting tooth and nail against the crushing wind pressure, inching closer with her black scabbard clutched desperately in his hands.
"Do we need to sheathe it?" Wise yelled, seizing the fleeting window of her lucidity.
Miyabi's combat instincts flared to life. She instantly grasped his tactical intention. "Hold the scabbard steady!" she commanded, her voice strained and trembling as she fought to suppress the agonizing psychic backlash.
No further communication was necessary. Wise locked his elbows, planting his boots firmly into the cracked earth. He gripped the scabbard with both hands, holding it out horizontally like a shield, perfectly aligning the dark opening with the tip of the violently burning katana.
Miyabi gathered every last ounce of willpower she possessed. She fought back against the tremendous, magnetic suction and the sickening mental corrosion bleeding from the steel. The muscles in her arms pulled taut, veins pressing against her pale skin as she physically forced the berserk blade forward, inch by agonizing inch, toward the waiting sheath.
A deafening, metallic screech tore through the Hollow.
The very millisecond the searing tip of the blade kissed the scabbard's opening, a massive shockwave of aether energy detonated outward. The crimson fox-fire flared to twice its size, thrashing wildly like a cornered beast making its final, desperate stand.
Wise felt his arms instantly buckle. The downward pressure was astronomical; it felt as though he had just caught a falling boulder rather than a simple wooden sheath. Yet, he kept his boots rooted to the fractured concrete. Relying entirely on sheer, stubborn tenacity, he refused to yield a single inch.
Miyabi bit down viciously on her lower lip. A thin bead of crimson blood welled up, but her fox-like eyes burned with absolute, uncompromising resolve. She let out a sharp, guttural cry, throwing the entire weight of her body forward as she shoved her arms out.
Clang!
The crisp, heavy thud of the handguard striking the mouth of the scabbard echoed through the air. It was as if someone had slammed a massive pause button on reality itself.
The raging torrent of crimson fox-fire was snuffed out in a fraction of a second, crushed by an invisible, crushing weight. The violent, howling wind pressure died instantly. Hundreds of pieces of suspended gravel, rebar, and debris lost their momentum, raining down upon the ruined earth in a chaotic, clattering shower.
The maddening, mind-warping whispers that had infected their heads rapidly receded like a retreating tide, leaving the Hollow to sink back into its eerie, deathly tranquility.
Miyabi slumped forward, her chest heaving as she dragged ragged breaths into her burning lungs. The rigid tension bled out of her posture, leaving her trembling slightly. A sheen of cold sweat plastered her silver-white hair to her forehead. She stared down at the fully sheathed Tailless in her hands. The weapon had returned to its dormant state, though a faint, restless pulse of energy still vibrated through the wood. A cold knot of lingering dread sat heavy in her stomach.
Directly across from her, Wise instantly let go of the scabbard. He threw his weight backward, stumbling two clumsy steps before catching himself. He bent over double, bracing his hands hard against his knees as he gasped for air. He forced his breathing to sound ragged and shallow, deliberately letting his posture sag to make his face appear pale and drawn. He painted the perfect, pathetic picture of a helpless civilian who had barely survived a supernatural disaster and was now suffering from total physical exhaustion.
He had to maintain this fragile facade. The last thing he needed was to arouse any unnecessary suspicion from a Void Hunter as terrifyingly perceptive as the Section 6 Chief.
A heavy, suffocating silence settled over the ruined landscape, broken only by the exaggerated sound of Wise's heavy panting echoing off the Hollow's distorted walls.
After a long minute, Wise feigned a slow recovery. He wiped imaginary sweat from his brow, straightened his aching back, and looked over at Miyabi. The swordswoman was still standing perfectly still, staring blankly at the weapon resting in her palms.
"Miss Miyabi?" Wise ventured, keeping his voice carefully pitched with forced concern. "Are you alright? Did that... that red fire really not hurt you?"
Miyabi blinked, her posture instantly snapping back to rigid perfection. "I am fine. I am perfectly well," she responded, her voice a mask of cool indifference. "I have handled far worse and infinitely more complicated situations in the past. A minor malfunction of that magnitude is hardly enough to shake my resolve."
Despite the young woman's desperate attempt to project an aura of absolute calm, Wise's sharp senses easily picked up on the subtle, lingering tremors in her voice. Beneath that icy exterior hid a very real cocktail of panic and deep relief.
Deciding to test the waters, Wise let a weak, slightly joking smile touch his lips. "If you say so, Miss Miyabi. But... it looks like there are still a few sparks of that fire burning near your handguard."
Hearing this, Miyabi flinched. She almost reflexively snapped her gaze down to the hilt of Tailless, her eyes widening as her entire body tensed for another violent eruption.
Seeing nothing but smooth black lacquer, she immediately realized she had been played. Her head snapped back up, and she leveled a sharp, highly annoyed glare directly at the Proxy.
Wise held his hands up in mock surrender, offering a sheepish grin. "I apologize! I lied to you. But see? You clearly aren't as calm as you claim to be right now."
Miyabi's cheeks dusted with a faint, embarrassed pink, though she stubbornly refused to concede the point. "That was not humorous in the slightest," she huffed, her grip tightening on the scabbard. "Checking one's equipment for residual threats is a perfectly normal, tactical reaction!"
It wasn't that the Section 6 Chief lacked a sense of humor. However, after the sheer terror of feeling her own weapon attempt to consume her mind, her nerves were still pulled taut like piano wire. Right now, even the mere mention of rogue fox-fire was more than enough to trigger her deeply buried anxieties.
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