Curse Return: Demon Void Girl Doesn't Want to Be a Weakling

At 4:30 a.m., the streetlights cast long shadows of the two people on the street.

The real person tilted their head, and the corner of their mouth, drawn up by the stitches, formed an arc.

He ignored what Mashiro was saying and continued walking forward step by step.

"I found the last battle very interesting."

He stretched out his right hand, fingers spread, the streetlight illuminating his sickly pale hand.

"Your soul, the first time I touched it, I could still feel a little shape, but the second time I couldn't touch it at all." The real man raised his hand to his eyes and looked at Masashi through his fingers.

"I've thought about it for a long time and I still can't figure it out. Can you tell me why?"

Murasame emerged from Mashiro's palm, the moonlight illuminating the silver blade. She smiled slightly, "It doesn't matter, just forget about it."

"Fine, don't tell me then." Zhenren stopped smiling, pushed off with his foot, and charged towards her.

It's faster than last time.

Mashiro sidestepped and unleashed a horizontal slash from the rain.

The blade sliced ​​across the real man's chest, but only grazed the surface of his skin.

He altered the density of his chest muscles the instant he was hit, minimizing the damage.

However, the special attack effect of the rain on the cursed spirit took effect, and the wound on the real person's chest was instantly torn open, and the ribs were also cut off.

"cough!"

The real person retreated three meters, and then quickly used the transformation of non-action to repair his body.

"I was already careful enough with your knife, I didn't expect it to have this ability." Masato said, and launched another attack on Mashiro.

"Don't worry, there are many more surprises to come."

"Haha, then I'll wait and see!"

The real man brought his right hand together and thrust it towards Zhenbai's face.

Mashiro tilted her head, her fingertips brushing against her left ear, cutting off a few strands of silver hair.

She lowered her center of gravity and swept the rain upwards, aiming for Zhenren's wrist.

The man withdrew his hand, took a half step back, and then smiled with narrowed eyes: "That was close, that was close, you almost managed to cut me."

He moved his wrist, which had been grazed by the blade, and saw a thin crack in the skin. The wound was wriggling, and new tissue was filling the gap.

Mashiro glanced at his wrist, flicked Murasame, and got back into a fighting stance. "What's wrong? All you can do is dodge?"

He stopped smiling and his expression became more serious. "In that case, let's try a different approach."

The real person spread out their arms, their body writhed violently, and began to deform.

The right arm is elongated, with two additional segments extending from the elbow, and the fingers become twelve. The left arm expands, muscles pile up, and the palm is large enough to hold a person's head. The legs bend in the opposite direction, and hook-like claws grow from the soles of the feet.

"How is it?" A real voice came from the crooked mouth. "This is one of my favorite forms. Among the humans I modified, a few retained their pain receptors, which I learned from them."

"Hmph, putting on airs." Mashiro's face turned cold. "You will pay the price for what you've done."

After saying that, Mashiro took a step forward and instantly appeared in front of Masato, unleashing a fierce slash.

The real man was stunned and tried to block with his right hand, but Cong Yu suddenly became transparent, passed through his arm and slashed at his shoulder.

Swish!

The rain, accompanied by high-frequency vibrations, severed his arm.

Makoto gritted his teeth and lashed his left arm out at Mashiro like a whip.

Mashiro raised her head to block the rain.

The moment her fingers touched the blade, she sensed something was wrong.

Each of the real person's fingers changed direction the instant they touched the blade, bypassing the parry and grabbing at her hand holding the knife.

She immediately released her grip, and Cong Yu, who had vanished from her left palm, reappeared in her right hand, severing two of her fingers with a single stroke.

The real person retracted their arm, and the muscles at the severed finger twitched, indicating that a new finger was growing.

He looked at Mashiro with an expression as if he were appreciating something interesting.

"That was a quick reaction."

That's not the point.

Mashiro stared at the real man's fingers as they regenerated, while the spinning of the Dharma wheel above his head accelerated.

Click click click.

Adaptation to physical attacks has begun, but the core threat to humans is not physical attacks.

She hadn't felt the effects of the previous inaction, so she didn't know if the ineffectiveness of his treatment was due to a lack of adaptation.

She needs to confirm this.

Mashiro charged forward and Murasame slashed three times.

The real man used his deformed arm to block, and with each contact, his fingers were severed, but he didn't care.

Each time it is severed, it grows back instantly. Unlike humans, they can regenerate indefinitely as long as they have enough magical power.

Mashiro deliberately delayed her fourth strike by half a beat.

The real person seized the opportunity, and the deformed hand slid across the side of the blade and pressed down on Mashiro's left shoulder.

"We caught them."

The transformation of non-action is initiated.

Then the real person's smile froze.

His cursed power flowed into Mashiro's shoulder, touching her soul, but the next second, the cursed power vanished like a stone thrown into the sea.

Her soul had no shape to grasp, so his spells had no way to work.

Mashiro swung her sword backhand, and Murasame pierced through Masato's palm.

He jumped back, creating distance, and looked down at the unhealed hole in his palm, then looked up at Mashiro.

"...This is too much of a cheat."

Mashiro did not pursue; she was confirming Falun's response.

The analysis progress of the transformation of non-action has hardly moved, which is a strange phenomenon. Since it has no effect on her, there is no need to adapt to it?

The previous two encounters were the same; the real person's effortless transformation did not touch her soul at all, and therefore could not trigger adaptation.

"Too weak," Mashiro said in a flat tone. "Your spells don't work on me. This is the third time."

The man shook his hand; the hole in his palm had healed. He was deep in thought.

"Yes, you're right." He tapped his chin with his finger. "The transformation through non-action changes the shape of the soul through contact. I can't touch your soul, so I can't change it."

He tilted his head to look at Mashiro.

"However, the soul is not something that can be considered contacted only when its shape changes."

Mashiro frowned. What did that mean?

"It's like when you push a wall with your hand, the wall doesn't move, but your hand can feel the wall's presence." The man stretched out his right hand, fingers spread. "It's the same on the other side. The wall doesn't move, but when you push the wall, the wall is also pushing you."

He took a step forward. "I'm curious myself. You're clearly not human, so why are you siding with humans?"

Mashiro gripped Murasame tightly. "Are you kidding me? How dare you underestimate me?"

"No, no, no, what I mean is, if you're not human, would you like to join us?" Makoto invited Mashiro, her tone sincere. "The curse is the new humanity that should replace humans. You're just like us."

Mashiro raised the rain-soaked sword, aiming the tip at the real man.

"No." Her voice was laced with sarcasm. "I'm a champion of justice. Who do you think you are?"

The man looked at her, remained silent for a few seconds, and then smiled.

"yes."

He raised his hands to his chest, palms facing each other.

"Then I'll show you with your own eyes what you really are."

His legs transformed into the shape of an antelope, and he instantly appeared in front of Mashiro, his hand touching her shoulder.

"Non-action transformation, the reverse."

Instead of trying to touch Mashiro's soul, they used a spell to draw it out.

Mashiro's body trembled as she sensed the part of her soul, the Demon Lord, being guided to manifest.

Click click click click click click.

The Falun began to spin wildly; it was out of control.