Awakening of the Weakest Slayer

Shiki increased the pressure on his hands, the faint, ethereal aura around them glowing brighter. The katana, unable to withstand the inhuman force, cracked, and then shattered into a thousand tiny steel pieces, each one reflecting the eerie, purple glow of the Spirit Essence almost perfectly.

Sezel's eyes widened, his pupils shrinking to a dangerously low level. Time slowed down for him, every second stretching into an eternity. The sword broke through the last, pathetic shield of his katana, and worse, the impact sent a jarring shockwave through his body, stunning it down.

'Shit, I have to roll around.' Sezel gritted his teeth, his stomach wound hurting more than ever, but the pain was frail in the moment of his desperation.

Sezel pushed his body to its absolute limit, and with a final, desperate effort, he rolled aside at the last moment, just before the sword, its trajectory slowly, almost deliberately, changing, hit the ground beside his head, sending a shockwave through the hard, dry earth.

It was then, in that moment, that Sezel had a better look at Shiki's eyes. He was tired, his face pale and gaunt, his movements slow and sluggish.

And the sword… it was never going to hit him. Even if he hadn't moved, it would have gone beside his head. Shiki stood there, his body leaning heavily on his sword, which was now half-buried in the earth.

"Run."

It was just a whisper, a soft, almost inaudible sound that was lost to the wind. But Sezel heard it loud and clear.

He didn't waste the moment. He instantly scrambled to his feet, his run towards the factory relentless, a stumbling flight from the horrors that were closing in on him.

The beasts soon crossed past Shiki, and he, too, was going to come for him again. "If I could somehow get to the factory and absorb the Flesh Reaper." He vaguely remembered that his puppet had killed a Flesh Reaper on its first day here. If he could just absorb it, then his wound would be healed, and because of the absorption process, he wouldn't fall for the voice's hypnotics.

Just then, a strange, unsettling question came to his mind. He hadn't seen Vesta anywhere near.

Sezel clenched his jaw and boosted his speed, his weary, battered body screaming in protest. The factory was just within reach, about two more meters, and he would jump inside the gate.

That was the initial plan. Until he saw Vesta standing in front of the gate, her sword out, her eyes reflecting what one would call pure frustration.

Sezel's steps didn't falter. He rushed straight towards her, his mind and body consumed by a single, all-encompassing thought: survival. Vesta raised her sword high above her head. "Stop, right there," she warned.

But Sezel reached dangerously close to her. She gritted her teeth, and then, with a flash of steel, she brought her sword down, cutting through the air with a deadly, silent grace.

Sezel put a long step forward, and using the momentum of his own reckless charge, he made his body spin on his leg, a clumsy, amateurish, but ultimately effective maneuver.

Vesta's sword went down without touching him. With the spin, he used his other leg and landed a kick on her leg joint, a sharp, jarring impact that made her fall to her knees. Sezel hardly maintained his balance, his vision swimming, his body on the verge of collapse, and strode past her, inside the factory building.

The factory insides were utterly dark, with little to no light around, only the faint, ethereal flickers of the moonlight that escaped through the broken parts of the ceiling. It took a bit for Sezel's eyes to adjust to the dark, and then he saw it.

The corpse of the Flesh Reaper was just there. It hadn't started to rot, nor had anyone touched it. He immediately shot towards the corpse and then sat on his knees beside it, his body a trembling, bloody mess.

The wound in his stomach was stinging now. But he bore with it. Just a couple of moments, and the pain would be gone. He slowly touched the beast's dead, cold body.

[Do you wish to convert the target into one of your 'Puppets'?]

The notification flashed in front of Sezel's eyes. He was just at the moment of thinking 'yes', when suddenly, he remembered something important. His eyes searched around frantically for something in the darkness.

And then he found it. In a forgotten, dusty corner of the factory was the bag. They had all forgotten about the bag with the water bottles. And inside that bag, there was the core of a beast far stronger than any of the Flesh Reapers here.

The core of the Rank-5 Flesh Reaper. 'If I could turn it into a puppet,' Sezel wondered.

He was not sure if he could turn a core into a full puppet. After all, its body was long gone, only the core remained. But as far as he had observed, only the core of the puppet was actual and real. The rest of the body was just made up of energy.

So, Sezel took a chance. He ran for the bag, his movements a desperate, stumbling lurch.

Until now, Vesta had been keeping the beasts outside at bay. But now, when Sezel caught a glimpse of her, he froze. She had turned towards him. No, not just her. Every single one of them, beast and human alike, had their eyes fixed on him.

And the fact that sent shivers down his spine, that made his blood run cold, was that their eyes were red, as if blood had washed over them, as if they were possessed by some dark, malevolent force.

"Fuck it," he whispered. He was losing what little time he had.

Sezel finally reached the bag and hastily, desperately, opened the front chain, revealing the beast's pulsing core, black as the void.

THRASH!

Suddenly, the world spun, and Sezel was sent crashing to the ground, a merciless kick striking him in the stomach.

"AGHH, FUCK!" A wild, excruciating pain erupted from his wound, his vision blurring, his stomach churning with a sickening, nauseous wave. He slowly looked up and saw Shiki standing there, his breath leaving a white mist in the dim, ethereal light, his eyes red with a pure fury.

He had already lost all sense of himself. And behind him, Vesta and the beasts were walking towards him, too, their silent, menacing advance a terrifying, inexorable countdown to his own death.

He looked at his hand. He was clutching the core, the cold, pulsing, life-giving core of the Rank-5 Flesh Reaper.

[Do you wish to convert the target into one of your 'Puppets'?]