"Look out!" Black-Eyed Psykos shouted.
But Fubuki's reaction was faster.
Without even rising from her chair, she lifted a slender, graceful hand. Her five fingers curled slightly in the air, forming an invisible grasp toward the pouncing giant crow.
Buzz—!
A surge of overwhelming psychic energy exploded forth.
The red-eyed crow—massive as an airplane—crashed into an unseen wall of steel, stopping mid-air with a jarring impact.
A flicker of surprise flashed in its crimson eyes. It opened its venom-lined beak, a strange green glow building deep in its throat as it prepared to spit a poisonous blast.
Before the attack could form, Mosquito Girl snapped her fingers.
A dark violet fissure ripped open in the air, and countless pink void mosquitoes swarmed out in a torrential wave.
The room filled with their shrill buzzing as the creatures engulfed the crow completely. The monster didn't even have time to scream—its massive body shriveled in seconds, drying up into a lifeless husk.
"Gulp" Mosquito Girl licked her lips and smiled sweetly. "Tastes pretty good"
The restaurant fell silent. Only the whistling wind through the gaping hole in the wall and the soft hiss of settling dust broke the stillness.
Nu S stared at the shriveled remains on the floor, her pupils tightening. Instinctively, she pressed her legs together.
From the suffocating aura that crow emitted, it had to be at least Demon-level—stronger than herself. Yet it had been drained dry in seconds… by a woman who looked like she'd burst into tears if someone so much as punched her.
And to think she'd once planned to repay the humiliation she suffered earlier that day—twice over—just to hear her cry? Laughable.
Fubuki ignored Mosquito Girl's "extra meal" and calmly set down her wine glass. She strode to the jagged edge of the wall, emerald eyes glinting coldly as she scanned the street below.
This attack was no coincidence.
Under the dim streetlights and the distant glow of burning buildings, three silhouettes stood on the empty street, radiating raw malice and powerful energy.
On the left—a walking, upright cat-type monster, its calico fur gleaming except for the snowy white on its chest and abdomen. It was grooming its whiskers with sharp claws, golden slit pupils shining in the dark.
In the middle—an obese, pustule-covered man, drool dripping from the corners of his mouth. His small, greedy green eyes locked onto the women above, his filthy thoughts almost tangible.
On the right—a monster in a tattered chicken-shaped mascot costume. The plastic eyes on its mask gleamed with eerie light.
"They're executives of the Monster Association!" Black-Eyed Psykos said quickly, stepping up beside Fubuki. Her tone was grim.
"That cat is the Dragon-level executive Meow Meow, the fat one is Ugly President, and the one in the mascot suit is the Demon-level Phoenix Man."
Fubuki's brow furrowed tightly.
Two Dragon-levels and one Demon-level… This was no small threat.
But what disgusted her most was the fat man below—his tiny, lust-filled eyes crawling over her figure, saliva almost spilling from his mouth.
On the street, Phoenix Man shrieked orders, "Great Eyes commands—everyone except the blue-haired one must be captured alive! The blue-haired one is to be torn apart! The one in white mink—King's woman—must not be harmed!"
"This is such a hassle," Meow Meow muttered, raking deep claw marks across a streetlight pole. "Why not just kill them all? King isn't even home."
Ugly President wasn't listening. His gaze burned with obsession as he drooled openly.
"Hehehe… beauties… all mine…"
With a mad laugh, he lunged forward. Despite his enormous frame, his speed was shocking. He plunged his filthy hands into the building's foundation—and with a thunderous roar, tore the entire structure from the ground.
"Hahahahaha!" Ugly President bellowed, shaking the building like a toy. "Come out, little beauties! Come play with Uncle!"
Inside, chaos erupted. Furniture toppled, light fixtures burst, and the floor tilted violently.
Nu S fell hard, her skirt flipping up as she hit the ground. Mosquito Girl spread her wings and hovered near the ceiling, eyes sharp and focused on the street below.
Fubuki snorted coldly. Her psychic energy surged, enveloping everyone inside—including the ordinary civilians—and lifted them clear of the collapsing building.
"You mere small fry…" Her red lips parted slightly, her voice sharp as ice. "You're not even worth the effort."
The moment she spoke, a titanic wave of psychic energy exploded outward.
BOOM—!!!
The abandoned building shattered instantly under the force.
Countless fragments turned into a storm of spinning blades—tens of thousands of high-velocity shards swirling into a towering tornado of rubble.
"AAAAHHHH—!!!"
Ugly President screamed, his voice almost inhuman as he was caught in the heart of the storm.
His thick hide and layers of fat—once his pride—were shredded like paper under the relentless slicing winds.
He tried to escape. To break free.
But Fubuki's power was absolute.
But Fubuki's psychic energy was like an unbreakable cage, locking the monster firmly at the storm's core.
Ugly President could only watch in horror as his own body was "pared" away bit by bit—like flesh fed into a grinder.
Chunks of meat spun into the whirlwind, bones cracked and splintered, and blood misted the air. The scene was gruesome beyond words.
"Meow—ow—!!!"
Meow Meow's golden pupils narrowed to razor-thin slits. Instead of fear, his companion's screams sent a feverish thrill through him.
His tongue darted out, licking his sharp claws as madness gleamed in his eyes.
"Interesting! So interesting! Scream louder—make me feel it!"
Cackling wildly, Meow Meow's body blurred into motion.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
He exploded forward, his movements a blur of dark gold. With each step, he kicked off the swirling debris at the edge of the psychic storm—dancing along the razor's edge of death.
Every foothold launched him faster, his speed climbing with terrifying momentum until he became a streak of light slicing through the chaos.
His target: Fubuki, hovering mid-air, her hair flowing like black silk under the pressure of her own power.
His killer instincts screamed at him—psychic users were powerful, but fragile once you got close. All he needed was one clean strike.
His claws extended, gleaming like blades.
In the next heartbeat, they were inches from Fubuki's snow-white neck.
Victory felt so close he could taste it.
P@treon Rene_chan