"Draw—"
Miwa reacted on instinct.
Her blade flashed backward.
Simple Domain had detected an intrusion from behind her, and her body moved before conscious thought could intervene. The counterattack triggered automatically—precisely because it bypassed hesitation.
Only as the blade cut through empty air did she realize—
There was nothing behind her.
No curse.
No projectile.
The only presence within range had been—
Her eyes widened.
Ren.
She tried to halt the motion mid-swing, but it was too late. The acceleration from channeling cursed energy into both scabbard and blade made the draw nearly instantaneous.
Then the world flipped.
For a heartbeat, she felt weightless.
The next instant, heat slammed into her face.
Red light engulfed her vision.
No—
The heat wasn't advancing.
She was moving.
Rapidly.
Her surroundings blurred backward in streaks of grey and orange. Wind tore at her hair.
She realized she was being carried.
"Where are your techniques?" Ren's voice cut through the roaring inferno.
He was running.
Miwa felt herself suspended by the back of her collar. On the other side, Mai was being hauled the same way, both of them lifted clear of the floor as Ren moved at a speed that made the collapsing factory seem slow.
"That thing's already using something beyond brute force," Ren said, genuinely perplexed. "Why aren't you two using your Innate Techniques?"
Miwa's face, already flushed from heat, turned a deeper shade.
"I… don't have one."
Ren nearly stumbled.
A wave of flame surged past where they'd been standing moments earlier.
"You don't—what?"
"Most sorcerers do," she said quietly. "But I'm an exception. I only have cursed energy. That's why I trained in New Shadow Style."
Her heart was pounding, but not from the curse alone.
He had brushed past her Simple Domain as if it were air.
The technique she'd built her identity around—pierced without effort.
Ren's grip tightened slightly as he adjusted course, narrowly avoiding another torrent of flame.
He turned his attention to Mai.
"And you?"
Mai reloaded mid-motion, snapping six rounds into her revolver before firing into the blaze.
"I already used mine," she replied, tone stiff.
"When?"
"You didn't notice?"
Gunfire echoed.
"A revolver holds six rounds. I fired seven."
Ren processed that.
"My technique is Construction," she continued. "I can create physical matter from cursed energy. I made an extra bullet."
Ren blinked.
"In the middle of combat?"
"Yes."
"For a surprise seventh shot."
Silence.
Even through the heat, Ren's expression flattened.
The curse's flames surged again, forcing him into another evasive leap.
Of all the things he'd expected—
One teammate with no Innate Technique.
One whose ability amounted to manufacturing a single extra bullet.
And a curse that clearly exceeded Third Grade.
Utahime had assigned this mission.
A Third Grade observation exercise.
Ren almost laughed.
Was this guidance?
Or an attempted execution?
The thought flickered and vanished as another gout of fire tore through the machinery below.
No time for that.
He skidded to a stop atop a partially collapsed platform just as the flames ceased.
"So," he said evenly, "I'm allowed to fight now?"
Neither girl objected.
"…Please," Miwa murmured from behind him. "We're supposed to be protecting you."
Ren nodded once.
"Miwa. On my back."
"W-What?"
"I can't fight while carrying you like luggage."
He swung her onto his back in one smooth motion. "Hold tight."
Before she could respond, the curse roared and launched another stream of fire.
Ren jumped.
The flame tore across the platform below them, melting metal and blackening concrete.
Midair, Ren's right hand shifted.
Two fingers extended.
Cursed energy condensed along the edge.
"Cleave."
A blade of blue light tore forward.
It struck the lizard curse across the face, shearing off its elongated snout in a spray of dark blood.
The creature shrieked.
Ren twisted midair.
"Cleave."
The second strike severed its left forelimb at the shoulder.
The limb fell, dissolving into smoke before it hit the ground.
The curse staggered, tail lashing wildly.
"Cleave."
The third arc carved across its spine, slicing away a ridge of scales and splitting muscle.
Blood erupted outward like a ruptured dam.
Ren prepared the fourth strike—
—and paused.
The creature's face was already reforming.
The severed snout reknit in bubbling layers of cursed energy. The lost limb swelled back into shape. The torn spine sealed over as if rewound.
Flames gathered in its throat again.
"…Regeneration," Ren muttered.
Miwa's voice was close to his ear.
"Curses are made of cursed energy. Unless you destroy the head or overwhelm them completely, they can reconstruct."
Headshot or annihilation.
Understood.
Ren shifted his grip and, without warning, scooped Mai up as well, settling her above Miwa in a precarious stack.
"Hey—!"
"Deal with it."
"Idiot, this isn't—"
"Hold on."
He leapt again, clearing another wave of fire.
Then he stopped midair.
Both hands extended forward.
Ten fingers spread.
Cursed energy ignited at each fingertip.
This wasn't a single Cleave.
It was compression multiplied.
Ten converging edges.
They spun at high speed, weaving into a lattice of intersecting arcs. The air screamed as pressure built between them.
For a split second, the entire factory fell silent beneath the hum.
Then—
Release.
The sound vanished.
The result did not.
Everything in front of Ren fractured.
Machinery split cleanly down the middle. Steel beams separated into neat segments. Concrete columns disintegrated into precise sections.
At the center—
The lizard curse froze.
Its massive body divided into dozens of symmetrical pieces.
No ragged tears.
No explosive spray.
Just clean partitions.
For an instant, the pieces hung suspended.
Then they fell.
The red glow in its throat extinguished.
The fragments dissolved into black mist before touching the ground.
Silence returned to the factory.
Ren landed lightly amid the ruins, dust drifting around him.
He let the cursed energy fade from his hands.
Behind him, Mai and Miwa clung in stunned quiet.
Ren exhaled once.
"…So that's how you kill one properly."