Kira brought her sword up fast, parrying the attack. Sparks and blood flew.
Another vein came; she ducked just in time. How dare you mock me, you insolent fool Kira shouted.
The cursed spirit laughed darkly. Blood, she whispered, extending her hand toward Kira.
Kira froze. Blood began to pour out from her own body—out of her arms, her neck, her mouth. Her eyes glowed red as her own life essence was pulled from her veins.
But before it could drain her completely, one of the fallen undead, a corpse that had been defeated moments ago, suddenly stood and lunged forward, slamming into the cursed spirit and breaking her concentration.
Kira collapsed to the ground, gasping. The blood that had escaped from her body slowly flowed back into her. She struggled to her feet as the cursed spirit turned toward the undead, her expression cold.
With a flick of her wrist, a razor-thin vein sliced the undead apart.
