The vapor from the evaporated ice spear still hung in the air. Doma's smile froze on his face.
The eastern wall of the Japanese-style room no longer existed. The load-bearing structure behind it, the spatial barrier, the ice-crystal defensive formation-all had been melted through from outside by some force. The exposed surfaces had a ghastly white, ceramic texture, and heat still streamed from their edges.
A man stood in the breach.
Heat lifted the hem of his black haori. Writhing black Cursed Markings covered half his face, and his scarlet pupils reflected an entire room reduced to rubble. His left hand held a pitch-black blade, the Cursed Markings along its length still radiating residual heat.
Yaha.
His gaze left Shinobu Kocho's back and settled on the melting remains of the ice spear on the floor.
Beside the debris, a faint dark-red speck of light was fading from the fabric across Shinobu Kocho's back. A Cursed Marking. The one he had left before setting out. Its activation condition was "a lethal attack entering within one foot of her from her sensory blind spot."
It had triggered.
That meant that, in that instant, if he had arrived even half a second later, if that marking's defenses hadn't been strong enough to withstand a full-force strike from an Upper Rank-
Yaha rubbed his left thumb against the hilt. His grip was so tight that the handle wrapping creaked under the strain.
He forced the thought down.
Shinobu Kocho turned around.
She was in better shape than he had expected. A shallow cut on the outside of her right thigh, a broken binding around her left ankle, several slashes in her sleeves from ice crystals. No fatal injuries. Her breathing was steady, and her sword hand wasn't trembling.
When she saw him, her shoulders