"Get her. I want her dead."
The branch president’s voice cut through the tense air, low but firm, the weight of authority pressing on the twenty-five awakened under his command.
Isobel’s smile widened at the command, her crimson eyes glinting faintly under the dim light. "Good. I would’ve felt bad if you backed away," she said lightly, the words carrying the casual cheer of a child who’d just been promised candy. She stood there without flinching, hands loose at her sides, almost inviting them to make the first move.
The group—a mix of B-rank and A-rank awakened—didn’t hesitate. They weren’t arrogant enough to attack one by one like the fools in fairy tales. Instead, they surged forward together, a coordinated storm of killing intent.
They didn’t know exactly what they were dealing with, but they knew enough to be cautious. The only way to deny an unknown opponent the advantage of surprise was to smother them with overwhelming force from the start.
It didn’t work.
The elent of surprise struck them anyway—only, this ti, it was theirs to suffer.
Isobel moved. One heartbeat she was still, the next she was a blur. Her heel crashed into the first A-rank’s leg with a sickening crack, sending him tumbling. Before the pain had even registered in his scream, she was on the second, snapping his knee sideways. The third folded under a precise kick to the shin; the fourth was driven to the ground by a brutal sweep.
They couldn’t retaliate. They couldn’t even see her properly. It was like children swinging wildly at an adult who could simply step out of reach.
"Will you let feed now," Isobel asked over the sound of groans and broken limbs, her tone almost polite, "or do I have to fight you first before I feed?"
The branch president had already begun descending the stairs, each step slow and deliberate. "You are a sweet child," he said, his voice taking on a strange softness. "Why do this?"
Isobel’s smile thinned. "Don’t give that crap. The parents you let adopt had loose mouths. As they hurt , punished , they told things. How you’re the lapdog of the Lightning God. How my real parents died. How you played a part in it. I know everything, President." Her smile was almost warm—almost. "The least you could’ve done after killing them was give decent foster parents. Or maybe... take back to my brother."
The man chuckled, the sound sharp. "Hah. Those idiots did talk too much. But they were the best foster parents for a child I wanted to punish and make suffer. As for your brother... your parents didn’t want you with him. I simply honored their wish, even after death." His expression shifted—no more politeness, no more mask.
"You’re done hiding? Good." Her eyes lit up with a predator’s gleam. "That ans I don’t have to work so hard to kill you. Except... I won’t be killing you. I have better plans."
She darted forward, striking first.
"You think you can beat ?" the president roared, his fists igniting in swirling fla. He moved to et her without hesitation.
Her kick sliced through the air, but he twisted aside and countered with a fiery punch. She tilted her head back, letting the strike pass an inch from her face.
"You’re fast," he admitted, studying her with a predator’s patience. "And strong. Even if you forced yourself to awaken, you shouldn’t be this strong. So... how?"
"I t my brother," Isobel replied simply. Her smile returned, this ti edged with sothing darker. "It wasn’t the perfect reunion, but he gave gifts anyway. One—he killed my abusive mother for . Two—he gave this ability. For revenge."
She stepped forward, eyes glowing a deeper crimson. "And three... if you think dodging one attack ans you can beat , you’re wrong."
A slow ripple passed over her skin, and droplets of blood seeped out—not red, not dark, but white, like liquid ivory.
"You know why my parents kept from my brother, raised in secret," she said, her voice low. "Of course you do—you were one of their trusted students."
"The curse of corrosion," the president replied, the firelight flickering over his face. "Your own body eats at you. Your blood corrodes everything it touches, even you. That’s why you needed constant transfusions—new blood to keep you alive."
"Exactly." Her eyes narrowed. "Another reason I hated my foster parents—they’d ’forget’ my transfusion dates just to watch writhe in pain. To mock . I hate them. My mother’s dead, thanks to my brother. All that’s left is the father... I’ll deal with him later. For now—" her smile grew sharp, "—I’ll deal with you."
Her eyes burned brighter, and the droplets of blood shot toward him with needle-like speed.
The president’s body blazed with heat, his skin wreathed in roaring fla. He moved faster now, every muscle driven to its limit. He dodged the droplets, unwilling to learn firsthand how lethal they were. A few grazed the edges of his fla and hissed violently before burning away.
But dodging ca at a cost. He lost sight of her.
"You don’t have to dodge so much," her voice ca from behind him, almost playful. "I won’t be able to get blood on you if you do."
Before he could turn, sothing sharp drove into his leg—a jagged piece of wood. Pain exploded through him, and he dropped to one knee with a howl.
"You bastard!!" His fist flared like a miniature sun as he swung at her, but she was already gone. She reappeared to his side, grabbing a chair and swinging it like a weapon. The impact sent him smashing into the wall with a grunt, his head snapping back from the blow.
Blood trickled down his temple.
"Do you want to see it now?" she asked, her voice almost curious as a bead of blood gathered at her fingertip and shot toward his thigh.
The mont it touched, he scread. "Aaaaarghhh!!! Please!! Stop!! It burns!!"
"Yes. That’s the scream." She crouched in front of him, her gaze unblinking. "The one I cried when my own blood started eating alive. The plea that made them euphoric while I writhed." Her smile didn’t falter as she sent more droplets into the wound, watching the flesh hiss and lt, bone giving way until a hole ford clean through.
"Stop! I’m sorry! Just—make it stop!" Tears stread freely now, the fire on his fists flickering weakly.
"Right, Branch President Dennis..." she said softly, almost kindly. "I’ll stop. But you see... I’m starving." Her fangs slid into view, her eyes glowing brighter. "And I need to eat well... if I’m to grow stronger. So... pardon if I make a ss."
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