The cold blade plunged into her stomach with a wet squelch. Her dark brown eyes twitched at the impact, though her face remained blank.
Because what expression were you supposed to make when the one holding the knife was your younger sister?
Possessed or not, the pressure of steel didn't change, nor did the blood soaking her clothes.
What changed was their parents.
They were staring past her—past the wound, past the way she swayed—at the space around her. Horror carved deep into their faces, raw and immediate.
Not for her.
She understood then.
They were already grieving. Just not the one who was dying.
Red thunder split the sky, like heaven was raging on her behalf.
Her sister raised her hands, expression rapt, and the clouds above churned violently—dark, swollen, ready to break.
The first bolt struck.
Pain flared white-hot in her abdomen as instinct screamed louder than thought.
She moved on instinct alone, something she had etched deep into her bones since that fateful day.
Lightning tore down where she had been standing, scorching the ground as she stumbled clear, blood warm against her skin.
Pain followed. Precise. Vicious.
She clenched her teeth and tore the blade free from her stomach. Blood spilt down her hand, dripping onto the small dolphin bracelet at her wrist—the one her sister had given her, a gift.
Her stomach lurched.
The world rippled around her.
Black, gritty gas bled from the blade, coiling around her arm, crawling up her skin like something alive.
Her vision swam.
Then, that familiar sound.
[You have been cursed.]
Heh. A cold snort resounded in her mind. A subtle pressure emanated throughout her being, as if the whole world was meaningless before it.
[Your curse has been nullified.]
The pressure recoiled, violently.
The dark clouds suddenly shrank, afraid to be seen.
Cowards. A derisive voice spat out. She paid it no heed, intently staring at the vague figure standing hunched over in the smoke.
Moonlight rained as she finally got a glimpse of her sister. Blood oozing from the corners of her eyes, her expression switching between unwillingness and fear.
Black gas drained out of her mouth and ears. It was a scene straight out of a horror sequence. Terrified shrieks broke out, and the shadows twisted heavenward, as if welcoming a being that was far superior to them.
Her body went limp. She lunged forward without hesitation, in an attempt to catch her sister, using whatever means possible.
[Thunder steps]
She forced her body to move. Her battered figure flashed near her sister's prone form.
"Navya." She breathed out.
"Navya," Her legs finally gave way as she caught her sister, the world narrowing to the weight in her arms.
"Navya"
She barely flinched as blood pooled beneath her. But the sight of her sister brought forth some unpleasant memories she had tucked away deep in the recesses of her mind.
She held in the barely suppressed shiver that came from within, as she held Navya in her arms—still unable to believe what had just transpired.
She transferred some of her mana to Navya—thick blood dripping onto her sister's face.
"Sorry." Her mouth moved on its own as she mechanically did what she could to save her.
Her mind belatedly registered a rapidly approaching energy signature. Taking a deep breath, she suppressed her panic and turned her gaze to their parents, who stood there frozen in silence by the sudden turn of events.
Their eyes met. They broke out of their trance and scurried over. Mom took Navya into her arms. She chanted a spell. The white light gathered behind her head in a halo as she started pouring out her mana in a desperate bid to lend strength to the weakening pulse.
Her dad silently erected a barrier around them.
They did not meet her gaze, as if doing so might shatter their worldview.
She silently rose and walked out of the barrier. Her hand gripped the blade and stood guard as she awaited the arrival of the owner of that massive energy fluctuation.
And it came even before she could collect herself.
The very air was permeated with the heavy scent of blood and hunger. All the plants and animals in the vicinity seemed to come alive with the urge to kill.
It was suffocating.
She adjusted her stance to ensure her family would not be subjected to this pressure.
Something laughed in the dark. Low. Amused.
Some thing pressed against her; vast, sovereign. Almost equal to the divinity she sensed before.
Pain radiated from her stomach in concentric rings, each throb stealing her breath. Her knees nearly buckled under the overwhelming urge to slaughter.
The pressure deepened.
She repositioned herself to shield her family from being engulfed by this nauseating, soul-crushing force.
As the pressure drew closer, she felt it—dense with malice.
She circulated her mana in short, controlled bursts, forcing the worst of it away from her family.
Trees splintered. The ground cracked. Then silence fell, sudden and absolute.
Her hair rose as every instinct screamed in unison.
Something had noticed her.
And whatever it was, it had already decided she was worth watching.
The silence was like a breath held in. Not relief. Not peace. Almost close to resignation.
Then, as suddenly as it came, the silence was shattered by its arrival.
The pressure it radiated was no joke.
Beads of sweat rolled down her neck. Her mana veins strained under the pressure as she forced herself to continue releasing bursts of mana to maintain the thin protective barrier behind her. The only thing separating her family from all this malice.
She could feel their stares burning into her head.
She could feel their prayers.
"What a surprise."
A thick, gravely voice cut through the silence.
The dense, grainy gas descended, and the shadows blended into it. And from it stepped out a muscular figure. It's every gesture carrying a hint of decay and killing intent.
The pitch black hair with crimson red streaks as if doused in fire, the poison green eyes with sharp, arrow-like brows, and that wide disdainful sneer with its fangs on display.
Her body reacted before her mind could.
Run. Fucking run. Every instinct seems to scream at her to move, to run away, to get the hell away from this place.
A small whimper of pain behind her snapped her out of it.
Illusions? Or was it....?
"Oh? You're quite interesting."
It spoke again. Amused. Curious.
As if she were a mere toy, a thing to satisfy its boredom.
The grip on her sword tightened almost painfully.
That look. That tone.
That familiar feeling.
She redirected some of her mana, circulating it throughout her body for half a breath, just enough to steady herself.
"Nithya"
A voice called out from behind.
She paused but didn't turn around.
"Navya is bleeding too much. We need to bring her to a healer."
Something cold settled into her chest, sharp and biting.
They haven't spoken to her for two whole weeks, and wouldn't even meet her gaze.
And yet, they speak as if Navya's the only one bleeding out.
"My," the Rakshasa murmured, "what a waste."
It wasn't wrong.
But
Her grip on the blade loosened slightly as she watched its reaction.
She let her left hand drop as she held the blade in her right hand, poised to strike as she opened her mouth.
"What are you?"
Its eyes gleamed in delight as she posed this question.
"... ingenious...struck it rich...jealous...," it mumbled under its breath, seemingly talking with someone else.
By the way, its eyes glazed over ever so slightly, which was enough for me to understand that it was using mana chips, something that became an essential tool for communication after that fateful day, when the dungeons descended onto our world along with various worlds and games merging and converging onto our world.
She was barely holding it together. If it brought its friends over, we'd truly become toys.
And the next words confirmed it.
"I found her."