The Blood-Red Scythe

After waiting nearly another hour, Hunt finally saw a young Girl with a graceful figure emerge from the mall.

The sight revived him just as he was about to lose his mind.

Girl wore a long, dark green dress and black, high-heeled boots that rose above her knees. She was tall and shapely.

She matched the description in his briefing.

Mitarai Fubuki. It was her.

Hunt rose lightly onto his toes.

He was standing at the edge of the rooftop.

He leaned forward, then dropped from the roof like a falling leaf.

By the time Mitarai Fubuki left the mall, it was almost closing time, and the street was deserted.

The moon was bright tonight, stretching her shadow long across the ground.

Against the moonlight, she saw a blurry black shape drifting down from high above.

Mitarai Fubuki looked up curiously.

A strange-looking Boy of about sixteen or seventeen was hovering directly over her.

Boy's body leaned forward, broad membranes stretching between his arms and torso as he beat his arms in a steady rhythm.

The membranes billowed and struck the air with force, holding him aloft.

The Boy studied Mitarai Fubuki with interest, an eerie smile on his face.

Through the Boy's parted lips, Mitarai Fubuki glimpsed sharp fangs.

The Boy's features were so strange that he clearly was not an ordinary person.

Parts of his body resembled a bat's.

Mitarai Fubuki knew the Boy before her had Psychic Powers.

And he had clearly come for her.

The Boy held a scythe that glowed an eerie red, as though it had just been soaked in blood.

The scythe filled Mitarai Fubuki with a deep sense of malice.

It was a killing weapon that had been held back for far too long. Mitarai Fubuki could sense that it thirsted for blood as fiercely as the Boy did.

The Boy looked Mitarai Fubuki up and down, then said, "You're special."

"Oh?" Mitarai Fubuki gave a soft laugh. "Do tell."

Hunt could not have said exactly what made this woman special.

Hunt had met few women in his life. Apart from several female researchers at the base, there were only the three Girls among the Fear Nova members whom he saw every day.

The woman before him was different from all of them.

A single glance at her left him feeling refreshed and at ease.

Hunt did not know it was a primal instinct.

A woman of incomparable beauty could lift someone's spirits with just a glance.

"I don't know," Hunt said, looking entirely sincere. "I only know that someone as special as you deserves special treatment."

Hunt lowered his gaze to the scythe in his hand.

It began to tremble of its own accord, giving off a faint, wavering hum.

Mitarai Fubuki frowned.

His words had reminded her of her older sister.

Her sister had always given her special treatment, as though she were a child.

"I hate being treated differently."

Hunt heard a trace of anger in Mitarai Fubuki's voice.

He had no idea why she was angry.

That was hardly his fault.

Why a Girl got angry was hard enough for adults to fathom, let alone an inexperienced kid like him.

Hunt decided to end the pointless conversation. If they kept talking, who knew what else he might say to make her angrier?

An angry woman was trouble.

So he attacked.

Hunt moved like lightning.

In an instant, he was right in front of Mitarai Fubuki.

A red flash streaked toward her neck as he swung the scythe.

Mitarai Fubuki had not expected him to be so fast. Though she dodged with all her might, she could not quite get clear.

Her reaction had actually been swift enough to carry her beyond the scythe's reach.

What she had not expected was for Hunt to suddenly release his grip, sending the scythe flying from his hand.

The blade cut across Mitarai Fubuki's shoulder.

The wound was less than an inch from her swanlike neck.

Dizziness washed over Mitarai Fubuki.

The instant the scythe broke her skin, she sensed the blood rapidly draining from her body.

The scythe flew back into Hunt's hand.

Its eerie, blood-red glow grew more vivid.

Some kind of bond linked Hunt to his beloved weapon, allowing him to summon the scythe back after throwing it, provided it remained within a certain range.

In a fight, this hidden ability often caught his opponents off guard.

Mitarai Fubuki's blood stained the blade. Hunt raised it and gently licked the edge.

Mmm. Sweet.

Hunt perked up, though he also felt a pang of regret.

If he could, he would have liked to keep this Girl for himself.

Never in his life had Hunt tasted blood so delicious.

Unfortunately, he could not disobey his superiors' orders.

Hunt knew exactly what would happen if he crossed the line.

This was Hunt's first mission, and he had to complete it cleanly.

Hunt looked down at the ground.

No one was there.

Mitarai Fubuki had vanished.

Hunt looked puzzled. Then Mitarai Fubuki's cold voice rang inside his head.

"Hey, brat. I'm up here."

Hunt looked toward the voice.

Mitarai Fubuki hovered high above him, staring down coldly.

Blood had stained part of her long dress a dark red.

It made her look even more beautiful and aloof.

At last, Hunt saw her use her supernatural power.

A faintly visible vortex swirled in Mitarai Fubuki's hand.

With a slight wave, she sent it hurtling toward Hunt.

The vortex was no larger than a palm at first, but it grew as it flew.

By the time it reached Hunt, it had become a small tornado.

Hunt felt the crushing pressure of the wind.

He had no doubt that if it caught him, it would tear him to pieces.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

His heartbeat suddenly quickened.

Hunt's heart rate had climbed past three hundred beats per minute.

The surge of oxygen-rich blood sent his brain into overdrive and greatly enhanced his physical abilities.

His body was now capable of reacting to the danger bearing down on him.

The tornado brushed past him and raced toward the ground.

Broken stones and fallen leaves were instantly sucked into the vortex. It left a trail of destruction in its wake, tearing an ugly scar through the ground.

This Girl has such terrifying power! Hunt could not help marveling at it.

At the same time, his eyes gleamed with growing excitement.

Perhaps this Girl would finally let him show the full extent of his extraordinary talent for battle.

His heart labored so hard that his breath grew hot.

The scythe trembled in his hand, keening for blood.