[Extreme Overload Control roared to life inside you. The limiters binding your legs shattered, and monstrous physical force compressed into every muscle fiber like a loaded spring.]

[By the time the group registered the shockwave of Cursed Energy erupting from your body and realized you were attacking, it was already over.]

[The only sound any of them heard was the detonation beneath your feet as overloaded force cratered the carpet and the marble subfloor in a single, catastrophic blast.]

[No flourishes. No wasted words.]

[In the final instant before consciousness plunged into black, the last image each of them saw was their own body, still standing in place, headless, a geyser of blood erupting from the stump of the neck. And behind them, a dark afterimage, already slowing, calmly sheathing its blade.]

[Heads and bodies hit the carpet in near-unison, dull impacts muffled by the plush fiber.]

A flick of the wrist sent blood droplets scattering from the blade’s edge.]

[A torrent of data flooded your mind.]

[From Bayer, you pulled Blade Manipulation.]

[From Niji Ebina, that hideous excuse for a human being, you extracted Spirit Rearing Chain.]

[In your estimation, it was a knockoff of Geto’s Cursed Spirit Manipulation.]

[Séance Technique.]

[Your gaze dropped to the headless female corpse on the floor, and your eyes darkened.]

[You stood motionless. The corridor’s blood-thick air stung your nostrils, and for a long moment, silence was the only thing you offered.]

[Every one of these people deserved to die. That wasn’t in question. But the assassination storm you’d orchestrated, had reached backward through the chain of consequences and claimed someone who should have been living an ordinary adolescence.]

[A few seconds passed. Your eyes opened, and every trace of turmoil was gone. Absolute calm had resettled like frost on glass.]

[You stepped over the blood and the bodies, crossed the hall, and stopped before the sealed door of the luxury suite.]

[Three measured, perfectly even raps against Riko Amanai’s door.]

[She called out from behind the door, her phrasing carrying an old-fashioned, almost theatrical haughtiness.]

[Beneath the bluster, a faint tremor ran through her words. You lowered your gaze outside the door, and when you raised it again, every shard of cold and killing intent had evaporated as though it had never existed.]

["You’ve got it wrong. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ve been sent by Master Tengen, dispatched from Tokyo Jujutsu High specifically to protect you, Miss Amanai. As for the people outside who wanted to hurt you..."]

["...I’ve already taken care of every last one of them. You’re safe now. You can open the door."]

[On the other side, Riko Amanai stood in the foyer like a startled kitten trying very hard to look dangerous. All raised hackles, puffed-up pride, and eyes too wide for the act to be convincing.

[She frowned, bent down with the caution of someone defusing a bomb, and picked it up. She turned it over, checked the front, checked the back, then squinted at the crest and printed text.]

["What kind of nonsense is this? ’Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College Student ID’...?" She let out a scoff. "Ha! Fake. Obviously fake. Scammers these days can’t even put effort into it. I’ve never heard of this no-name school in my life. You’re trying to trick me into opening the door with some knockoff badge!"]

[That still was not enough.]

[Misato Kuroi watched all of this in silence.]

[She brushed dust from its surface with her fingertip. Her eyes moved over the anti-counterfeit marks, the school crest, and the embossed steel seal with careful attention.

The ID was real.]

This was the regular army showing up at the door.

["Please step back a little."]

[She needed to confirm that the self-proclaimed rescuer outside matched the stern-looking face on the student ID.]

[And then.]

[Her pupils shrank to pinpoints. Terror ripped through her so hard that a scream burst out before she could stop it.]

[Do not provoke whatever is on the other side of this door.]

[Through the lens, she had seen something she would probably remember until the day she died.]

[But behind him, the luxury corridor with its soft red carpet had become a slaughterhouse.]

[A warm, perfect, friendly smile, aimed at the room number on the door.]

---

Next Target 200PS :)