Chapter 3
Click!
The arm wrapped in dark-purple Cursed Energy was suddenly severed, as if sliced clean off by something invisible. It fell heavily to the ground, blood splattering across the dirt.
"Ahhh!!!" The man screamed in agony, his voice breaking into a pitiful, high-pitched wail.
For someone who had always looked so strong and invincible, the shriek resembled that of a beaten dog.
A short dagger was stuck in the ground nearby, its silver blade gleaming faintly beneath the moonlight. That chilling glow alone was enough to make one's skin crawl.
"Aniki!!" The man's companion, who had been standing behind him, cried out in shock and rushed forward.
Ryuichi, however, remained slouched in his rocking chair, his expression sleepy and bored. Yet, for some reason, his indifference made the other man's blood run cold.
"That's… a Grade 1 Cursed Tool! Impossible! Even within the Zen'in clan, weapons of this level are extremely rare!" the one-armed man hissed through clenched teeth. He pressed his other hand against the wound, forcing Cursed Energy to stop the bleeding, his face pale with both pain and disbelief.
His sharp eyes recognized the weapon immediately. Though he couldn't discern the exact technique imbued into the dagger, the fact that it had sliced through the body of a Grade 2 sorcerer without effort left no doubt—this was definitely a Grade 1 Cursed Tool.
"Zen'in Ryuichi… don't overstep your bounds. Stealing a Cursed Tool from the clan is a grave crime. If you confess now, maybe they'll show leniency." His voice was stern, but his eyes betrayed something else—greed.
Even while blood streamed from his missing arm, he couldn't help but covet it.
"Stupid brat! Do you really think having one Grade 1 Cursed Tool means you can act invincible? Throwing such a weapon like a common dart is nothing but a disgrace!" He laughed bitterly, yet his gaze lingered on the dagger with undisguised hunger.
If I kill him here, this weapon will be mine…
His complexion, once pale, flushed with excitement. His eyes flickered with restless calculation.
Ryuichi caught it all. He chuckled softly, mocking.
"Zen'in Ryuichi—tragically killed while fighting a Cursed Spirit. I destroyed the spirit too late to save him. That way, the Cursed Tool conveniently ends up in your possession. Is that the little story you're writing?"
The man froze, face twisting in shock.
Because Ryuichi's words were exactly what he had been plotting.
Now exposed, he bared his teeth in a feral grin.
"Idiot! Without that weapon, you're nothing! What can you possibly do to fight me?!"
Bang!!
He lunged forward, his Cursed Energy erupting wildly. Dark-purple energy surged like a tide. In a single motion, he turned and thrust his hand backward—piercing the chest of his own subordinate.
Click!
The poor fool stared wide-eyed, unable to comprehend why his life was being stolen.
Treasure is worth more than loyalty.
The Grade 2 sorcerer knew that much. For a prize like this, he would kill without hesitation—comrade, parent, it didn't matter.
"Hahaha!! Now die!!"
"Eight Ghosts—Falling Hand!!"
A massive cursed palm materialized above, condensing the man's Cursed Technique into a colossal strike. The weight of it bent the air itself, corroding the atmosphere into warped ripples.
But in the face of that terrifying attack, Ryuichi didn't even bother to rise from his chair.
He lazily raised a finger, flicking it as if swatting away dust.
The attacker's gut clenched. Something felt wrong.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Three sharp sounds split the air. Daggers identical to the first flew out from behind Ryuichi, trailing silver arcs of deadly light.
Like butterflies fluttering through the night, they sliced straight toward the man's chest.
"Wha—?!" The sorcerer panicked. He twisted frantically, condensing layers of Cursed Energy into a shield. His arms flailed into a pathetic defensive posture.
But he couldn't evade.
"How… how can you have four Cursed Tools of this level?!"
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Ryuichi tilted his head, amused. "Four? Is that what you think?"
Snap!
He flicked his fingers.
The man's eyes widened in horror as dozens—no, hundreds—of daggers manifested in the air behind Ryuichi. Blades covered the night sky like a murder of crows, blotting out the moonlight.
"NO!!"
"Divine Armament: Crowfall!!"
The rarest of weapons, the kind worth killing over, came crashing down like a storm of steel.
The man was shredded instantly. His body flickered like a candle flame before being devoured by the countless blades. His cursed screams vanished beneath the endless black swarm.
Ryuichi inhaled deeply. The swarm of blades dissolved into dark mist as his technique consumed the man's energy.
The Six Immortal Thieves Treasury—a Secret Art that absorbed all Cursed Energy and made it his own.
Of course Ryuichi wouldn't let such a rich feast go to waste.
The daggers vanished, as though they had never existed at all.
And though this was the first time he had killed a man, Ryuichi's expression didn't change.
After all, he had slain countless Cursed Spirits. Was this really so different?
Spirits were always spirits. But people?
People could be far uglier.