Kenjaku shifted his stance.
The time for talking was over.
He spread his fingers, letting blood flow again into his palm. It coiled around his wrist, solidifying into sharpened threads.
The Faceless One didn't move.
His blood curved outward, silent and clean. He stepped sideways, setting a trap with his cursed technique, threads buried under gravel, sharp arcs hidden behind rusted steel.
If it moved forward, he'd slice it from multiple sides at once. If it dodged, he'd collapse the field and lock it in.
Simple. Effective.
He sent the first thread forward — a fast lash meant to drive the curse into position.
But something was wrong.
The moment his blood moved
The shadows beneath the Faceless One shifted.
And then… it answered.
Dark shapes pulled from the ground, forming crude strands like his own blood. They didn't flow the same way, didn't carry the same precision — but the movement was clear.
Kenjaku froze.
The Faceless One was copying him.
It raised one arm, and three black lines arced out in a staggered attack, mimicking his spread pattern.
He blocked — barely — twisting his own blood into a defensive web. Sparks cracked where the shadows hit.
Kenjaku stepped back, eyes narrowing.
The curse didn't stop.
Another pulse of shadow, this time more focused. The threads moved straighter. Tighter. Less sluggish.
It was learning.
Kenjaku flicked his wrist, unleashing a snap trap from the left.
The curse dodged — just barely — but its counter came faster. The next set of threads were smoother. Not perfect, but not clumsy anymore.
Kenjaku gritted his teeth.
It's adapting in real time.
Every movement, every variation in flow — it was taking his technique apart, copying the rhythm, correcting the gaps.
The cursed threads were still shadows, not blood — but they acted all the same
He couldn't let this go on.
Kenjaku surged forward, attacking with faster, sharper strikes. The steel rails beneath them cracked from the pressure. The Faceless One evaded with fluid steps, answering with its dark mimicry.
But it still wasn't perfect. Not yet.
Good.
Kenjaku kept the pressure on, but inside, his thoughts raced.He couldn't afford to show more.If it copied Blood Manipulation this easily, what would happen if it saw the others?
The stakes had changed.
He wasn't just fighting a curse.
He was training it.
Kenjaku leapt back to gain distance, letting his blood fold inward defensively.
The Faceless One didn't pursue.It stood still again, arms loose, head tilted.
It had learned something.And it was storing that knowledge.
Kenjaku didn't speak this time.But one thought looped in his head:
I have to end this before it gets better than me.