Kashimo pushed off the ground, his body flashing like lightning as he appeared before the Snow Woman in an instant. His speed tore through the air with a sharp, brief crack.
"Huh?"
The Snow Woman's laughter caught in her throat. Surprise barely had time to flicker across her beautiful face before Kashimo's fist slammed squarely into her chest.
Splurt!
A muffled explosion rang out. A gaping hole burst open in her chest, purple blood gushing from the wound and splattering across the ice with a hiss. Blue-white arcs danced along the edges of the wound like ravenous insects, burrowing into the torn flesh. The smell of scorching mingled with the chill of the icy mist.
Kashimo withdrew his fist and tilted his head, looking down at the cursed spirit before him, who had yet to manage a second reaction. His tone was as casual as a conversation about the weather, but every word carried a careless cruelty.
"Hey, have you cursed spirits always been this-"
He paused, as though seriously weighing the word.
"Pathetically weak?"
The Snow Woman finally came to her senses. She looked up at the man before her. His blue eyes reflected the gaping hole in her chest, still oozing purple blood, as calmly as if he were looking at a shattered stone.
Is this real? Her thoughts short-circuited for an instant. Why did my chest suddenly burst open? I didn't see anything at all. Was it a cursed technique? This guy's cursed technique?
She never got the chance to figure it out.
Kashimo's hand had already reached out, his five fingers spread as he clamped them firmly around her head. His fingers sank into her cold hair, their pads pressing against her skull with such force that she could not even turn her neck.
He yanked