Chapter 29. Cold Rage
Hmm. Are you dressed like that? I noted in my mind as I watched Yuki pull on oversized but warm boots and lace them up carefully. Her movements were already more confident than they had been a week ago.
When she finished, she looked up at me with her big blue eyes and said in her new, sweet and still husky voice, "Yes, brother."
The word "brother," which she picked up from nowhere, resonated strangely somewhere deep inside. I nodded, adjusted the collar of her jacket, and we went outside.
Uhh, it's cold in the morning. Okay.
I held out my hand. Come on, Yuki. She looked at my palm, then at my face, and her small, cold hand trustingly put into mine. She nodded, her nose already red from the cold.
Damn, she's so cute," a sudden, strange thought flashed through my mind, and the corners of my lips twitched by themselves in the semblance of a smile.
We walked towards the Crimson Manor. It's about a few hours on foot. But we can run. I looked at her. She immediately understood my thought and took a step forward, ready to spring. Her stamina was excellent, no worse than in fox form.
---
After a while, we stopped on a high hill. The city spread out below, and on a rise, like a vulture on a cliff, their estate stood, a gloomy pile of dark stone and metal.
It's beautiful," I stated to myself without any admiration. — Okay, let's go. It's already dawn. Yuki nodded, her eyes still glued to the lock.
We went down the hill and came to a black, wrought-iron gate. As if on cue, he appeared from behind them. Ragnar. He was leaning against the doorjamb, his black hair pulled back in a ponytail, and his scarlet eyes burned right through me. His gaze was heavy, full of mute, seething hatred. He looked at us like he wanted to kill us.
And then he did it. He released his aura. Powerful, oppressive, filled with rage and blood. A wave of invisible force directed directly at me.
A heavy aura. But it won't affect me. My "Young body" and will, tempered in other worlds, simply ignored this pressure. I didn't even flinch.
But I lowered my head and looked at Yuki.
She shrank back. Her hand trembled in mine. Silent tears rolled down her pale cheeks. She wasn't crying out of fear. She was crying from the pain, from the monstrous oppression that her fragile, newly formed consciousness could not bear.
And I saw Ragnar's gaze slide over her. I saw those tears. And there was no pity or regret in his eyes. Just a cold, satisfied curiosity. He was checking. And he didn't care.
All. The silence inside me exploded.
I raised my head. My face must have been expressionless, because his grin didn't disappear. —Wait here, Yuki," I said softly, releasing her hand.
She looked at me, not understanding anything, but obeyed, taking a step back.
I didn't scream. He didn't threaten. I just walked towards Ragnar. Step. Another. Calmly, slowly.
He straightened up, his hand on the hilt of his katana. The grin widened. He thought I would come closer to talk to him. That I would say something.
I didn't come any closer.
Three steps away from him, I took off. My sword hissed out of its scabbard. There was no battle cry, no surge of energy. Only pure, absolute speed and fury, cold as morning ice.
His eyes widened in shock. He hadn't expected the attack. Not here, not on his doorstep. He barely had time to draw his katana to parry my first blow.
Clang!
The sound of steel striking steel reverberated deafeningly through the quiet morning.
And their fight began. Or rather, not a fight. It's a frenzied, one-sided onslaught.
I attacked. No aura, no lighting effects, no magic. Just a sword that moves with superhuman speed and precision. Each blow was designed to penetrate his defenses, each thrust was deadly.
Ragnar fought back, but it wasn't a defense. It was a panicked retreat. His scarlet aura swirled around him, trying to put pressure on me, slow me down, blind me. But she was useless. I saw through her. I saw every movement of his muscles, every hint of the next blow.
My sword worked as an extension of my will. He parried, dodged, and counterattacked. He was fierce, strong. But he was predictable. His style was crude, designed to overwhelm the opponent by force. And against my speed and accuracy, his strength was helpless.
I wasn't trying to kill him. No. I hit his blade, his armor, his hilt. I broke his stance, knocked him off the rhythm, and humiliated his skills.
Clang! Skr-r-cuts!
With one sharp movement, I knocked one katana out of his hand. She flew off into the snow with a clang.
Clang!
With the second blow, I sent another one into the snow.
Ragnar froze, breathing heavily, his hands empty. He stood before me, defeated, humiliated. His scarlet aura was extinguished, as if it had never existed.
I did not lower my sword. The tip of my blade was pointed at him. I looked at him with my empty brown eyes. And in the silence, only his heavy breathing and Yuuki's soft sobs could be heard.
I took a step forward. Then another one. I went right up to his face.
"Never again," I said softly, but so that every sound would be etched into his memory. "Never direct your power at her. Understood?
He didn't answer. He just looked at me with animal horror and hatred.
I slowly lowered my sword and, turning my back on him, walked back to Yuki. I was completely calm. As if he hadn't just defeated the Clan's best swordsman in thirty seconds.
I approached the girl, who was looking at me with a tear-stained face, but without fear. Only with amazement and adoration.
"That's it,— I told her, wiping a tear from her cheek with my thumb. "It's over. He won't touch you again.
Did they want power? They got it. But now they saw her price, too.