It had been two weeks since Jack acquired the kamaitachi form. Two weeks since Lonestone Capital City gained a new, perplexing figure. Racer Jack.
This new incarnation was very different from Jack Mystery. He didn't move in the shadows. Didn't act as an invisible or spectral phantom operating exclusively under the cloak of night. Delivering judgement anonymously.
No. Racer Jack was a daytime phenomenon. He didn't hide. He didn't even attempt to. Yet, most people only ever saw a blur. A fleeting streak of white and grey. Before he vanished as quickly as he appeared.
A mysterious creature, they called him. Floating. Possessing multiple, wicked-sharp blades. Moving with impossible velocity.
His mission seemed to be vigilante-like. Hunting criminals. Stopping crimes. Rescuing the innocent. He was a self-styled whirlwind of justice. Or at least, his definition of justice.
In his kamaitachi form, Jack shed most of his previous pretenses. He didn't conceal his form. A bipedal weasel-like creature. With goggles perched on his head. And a short fur coat adorning his frame.
The blades, naturally, were parts of him. Extending from his arms and tail. Gleaming with an inherent sharpness.
He didn't even bother to hide his ability to speak. In fact, in this form, Jack was an annoyingly talkative entity. Not a hard thing to do for him. He used to be a talkative YouTuber in his past life after all.
His high-pitched, nasal voice cut through the air. Often accompanied by a flurry of rapid-fire banter, silly jokes, and cutting remarks. He completely channeled his performing desire and well... 'chatterbox talent' into this incarnation.
He was a one-weasel comedy show. Performing for himself. And anyone unfortunate enough to be within earshot. Usually, his victims.
To the common folk of Lonestone, he was a strange, benevolent spirit. A benign creature who appeared from nowhere. To help the good and punish the wicked.
Children started to tell stories of the "Speedy Blade Weasel". And adults spoke of uncanny luck, when a mugging was interrupted by a flash of fur and steel.
But among the transcendent individuals, Racer Jack was a topic of intense, often frustrated, discussion. They believed he was a Supernatural Sorcerer. One so gifted in the art of transformation. One that could shift into a formerly unknown mythical beast.
A being mischievous enough to simply play around in the mundane world. Using his immense power for what amounted to glorified street brawls. They didn't understand why he would want to do so. Jack found it hilarious.
One late afternoon... The sun casted long, industrial shadows across the cobbled streets and towering brick factories of Lonestone. Racer Jack was on patrol.
His method of surveillance was simple. Cover ground. All of it. At maximum speed. He zipped through the bustling market districts. A mere ripple in the air. He streaked over the grimy factory rooftops. A fleeting shadow against the smokestacks.
He cut through the elegant Renaissance-style boulevards. A blurred streak of color unnoticed by horse-drawn carriages and promenading ladies. He was a kinetic phantom. Observing everything. Missing nothing.
Suddenly... a sound ripped through the usual industrial noises. Not the shrill shriek of a steam whistle. Nor the rhythmic clanging of hammers. But a tearing, wet explosion followed by a guttural roar. It was loud, violent, and... wrong.
Jack instantly changed direction. He was now a living projectile zooming towards the source of the disturbance. His sharp hearing sense perceived the sound clearly. The roar. The screams. The sharp crack of breaking wood. The splintering stone.
He arrived at the port in a flash. One that was barely registered to the dockworkers still scrambling for cover.
The scene was that of chaos. A monstrous, humanoid blowfish creature dominated the central pier. It stood easily four meters tall.
Its grotesque, bulbous body was covered in wickedly sharp spines. Ones that seemed to glow with a pale green light. Its arms were thick. Ending in clawed, webbed hands. And its lipless mouth was filled with rows of needle-like teeth.
Around it, the pier was a ruin of shattered crates. Overturned cargo. And broken rigging. Several dead bodies littered the ground. Dark stains spreading rapidly beneath them. One of them, still holding a steam-rifle, was unmistakably a City Enforcer.
Six other City Enforcers were locked in a desperate battle with the creature. Their faces were soiled with dirt and fear. Only two of them were transcendent. Eldritch Knights holding eldritch swords. The others were normal people. Armed with steam rifles.
The two transcendent soldiers blocked the monster in melee fight. The others fired their steam-rifles. The bullets pinging off the monster's spiny hide with little effect.
The blowfish monster, in turn, swiped with its claws. Sending one of the Eldritch Knight flying, And then, it inflated its already massive body. The spines extending further. Making it an impossible target to approach.
"Well, well, well! Look what the tide dragged in!" Racer Jack's high-pitched voice cut through the chaos. Startling the surviving Enforcers and making the blowfish monster pause its savage assault for a split second.
Jack floated lightly over an overturned crate. Observing casually as if addressing a casual gathering. Not a monstrous showdown.
"A pufferfish with an attitude problem, I see! Did someone forget to de-venom you, my spiky friend? Or were you planning on being the world's most aggressive balloon animal?"
The transcendent enforcers, a burly man with a scarred face, gaped at the bizarre, talking weasel. "Who... what in the blazes—?"
"Me?" Jack cut him immediately. "Ah, I'm Racer Jack. Just your friendly neighborhood speedster, here to try some unique sea food!"
Jack launched himself forward before the Enforcer could finish his thought. He was a streak of motion. A blur that bypassed the monster's slow, lumbering swing.
His tail blade slashed. And cut some of the blowfish monster's spines. Quite easily.
"Whoa! I thought you were tough, fish guy." Jack commented. He turned and chatted to the enforcers as he calmly evaded the monster's attack. "Alright, let's get this show on the road, Guys! You guys handle crowd control, I'll handle this 'Fishy Spiny' thing!"
The blowfish monster roared. A sound like grinding stone. Jack zipped past its flank. Its head snapped around. But Jack was already gone. Reappearing behind it.
"Slow on the uptake, aren't we? Been skipping leg day, have we? Or arm day? Or... any day, judging by that weak fat body!" He commented.
His blades were extending from his forearms and tail. They whirred into motion. A white blur against the monster's thick spiny hide.
Shick! Shick! Shick!
Shallow but numerous cuts appeared on the creature's back and legs. Oozing a thick green fluid that steamed slightly on contact with the air.
The monster bellowed in pain. A sound of genuine agony rather than simple rage. It spun, trying to swat Jack. But in Kamaitachi form, he was too fast. Too agile. He danced around its flailing limbs. An untouchable whirlwind of blades and taunts.
"Oh, you don't like that, do you? A little prickle in your scales? I assure you, it's nothing personal, just business! What if we cooperate? I provide my cutting skill, you provide your flesh. Come on!"
Jack darted between its legs. His tail-blade sweeping up and slicing a deeper gash into the monster's inner thigh. The creature shuddered. Its enormous weight destabilized.
The Enforcers had recovered from their shock. They began to press their attack. Emboldened by the bizarre creature's intervention.
They didn't come closer. They used steam rifles. Even the transcendent enforcers now sheathed their swords. And took their spare steam rifles. They shot.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Their bullets still glanced off the spines. But now they aimed for the fresh wounds Jack was creating. Hoping to exploit the vulnerable flesh.
"Alright, Boys! Aim for the green bits!" Jack yelled. He started circling the monster again. His voice was echoing with an almost manic glee. "Come on guys! I know you can do this. He's like... oversized, you know! It's impossible to miss. Come on! Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!"
The blowfish monster was maddened by the relentless assault. And the constant, high-pitched jeering. It began to swell even further. Its spines extended. Some nearly a meter long.
It stomped the ground. Sending cracks spiderwebbing across the pier. And attempted to slam its entire body down. Hoping to crush the irritating blur.
"Whoa there, Big Fella! Temper, temper! Wouldn't want you to pop, would we?" Jack quickly evaded and commented. "Though, on second thought, that might be quite spectacular! Think of the ecological impact, though. All that slimy residue in the harbor. The poor fishes!"
Jack accelerated. Becoming an almost invisible streak of movement. He carved elaborate patterns around the hulking monster. Each pass left a new, bleeding green gash.
He wasn't aiming for instant kills. He was systematically dissecting it. Weakening it with a thousand tiny cuts. He focused on the joints. The back of the knees. The armpits. Anywhere the spines were slightly less dense.
The monster roared. A desperate, pained sound. It lumbered. Attempting to corner Jack. But it was like trying to catch smoke.
Jack would zip in. Deliver a flurry of cuts. And then flash out again. Often leaving a sarcastic comment hanging in the air.
"You know, for a fatty fish, you're surprisingly weak. Are you sure you're not just a very grumpy, very bloated, very spiny punching bag? You're doing a fantastic impression of one, you know?"
The blowfish monster was weakening rapidly. The green fluid gushed from dozens of lacerations. Forming slimy puddles on the pier.
Its movements became sluggish. Its roars less potent. Its spines were once rigid and menacing. Now they seemed to droop slightly.
"Alright, time for the grand finale!" Jack announced. His voice was still annoyingly cheerful. "Super Ultimate Mighty Spinning Blade Tornado!"
He suddenly shot upwards. Spiraling around the monster's head. In a fraction of a second, he delivered a series of incredibly rapid and precise circular cut. Around the base of its skull. Severing tendons and muscles with surgical efficiency. Deeper and stronger with each rotation.
The monster's head lolled. A gurgling sound escaping its throat. Its eyes seemed to lose their malevolent spark.
It swayed. A towering, dying menace... Before finally crashing forward with a shuddering thud. One that shook the entire pier.
It lay still. A monstrous, deflated balloon man. Its spines retracted slowly as the sickly green glow faded.
Silence fell. Broken only by the lapping of water against the docks. And the heavy breathing of the surviving Enforcers.
"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you turn a giant fish-creature into a very expensive, very unsanitary, floor mat!" Jack declared. Landing neatly on the monster's fallen head. Wiping a blade on its leathery skin as if cleaning a dinner knife.
"You're welcome, Lonestone! Another day, another monster-sized problem solved by your friendly neighborhood... well, you know! Racer Jack!"
The Enforcers stared. Their faces were a mixture of exhausted relief and utter bafflement. The scarred Enforcer finally managed to articulate a single word. "What... are you?"
Jack grinned. A flash of needle-sharp teeth beneath his goggles. "Told you. Racer Jack is the name. The one and only. Well, as far as I know."
With a final, triumphant flourish, he launched himself back into the air. A diminishing blur of white and dark grey. "Bye guys! Stay out of trouble! Or don't! It keeps me employed!"
And then...
He was gone. Leaving behind dead bodies. A wrecked pier. A dead monster. And a group of very confused, yet very grateful City Enforcers.