Miracle Card Shop: All My Cards Can Be Actualize - Chapter 342 Rescue Operation-04

342  Rescue Operation-04

**Whistle**

The mercenary’s whistle sliced through the tense air, echoing off the damp stone with a mocking glee. It landed like a slap on Maria’s already frayed nerves. His smirk stretched wider, revealing chipped teeth the color of old ivory. “Pretty skin, dollface,” he drawled, his voice rasping like sandpaper on bone. “Shame someone already marked it… with mine.”

Fury coiled in Maria’s gut, twisting its way into her throat. She called upon her power, but it responded sluggishly, like wading through thick molasses. Something choked it, held it captive. With a snarl, she unsheaths another dagger from her belt, her movements honed by centuries of battle, but stripped of their usual superhuman grace. This time, every parry, every dodge, would be earned with sweat and desperation.

“Still got a fight in you? Now that’s the kind of woman I dig!” Genzai cackled, a sound that skittered along Maria’s nerves like a swarm of insects. His insane speed blurred as he charged, the first clang of steel sending a tremor through her arm, not just from the impact, but from the sheer velocity of the blow. She stumbled back, adrenaline burning like ice in her veins.

Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Each clash reverberated with a sickening metallic screech, punctuated by Genzai’s manic laughter. “Give it to me, dollface!” he roared, each blow effortless, almost playful. “The harder you resist, the sweeter the victory!”

Maria lunged, parrying with one dagger while thrusting the other towards his throat. Yet, even her most desperate strikes felt sluggish, predictable. He moved like a phantom, his other hand hidden in his pocket, a constant, unsettling presence.

“Come on, kitty,” he purred, his voice laced with sadistic delight. “Don’t hold back now.”

A desperate gamble formed in her mind. Abandoning defense, she lunged for the exposed nape of his neck. But the world seemed to slow. Steel blurred, guided by an unseen hand, the tip finding the center of her arm with agonizing precision.

Pain. Searing, white-hot agony ripped through her limb, the dagger clattering to the floor. “Arrraaagghh!” Maria screamed, vision momentarily swimming with crimson. In that primal scream, however, something shifted. The slumbering beast within roared awake, momentarily breaking free from its shackles.

With a feral snarl, fangs bared, she lunged again, a vampire unbound by mortal limitations. Her head snapped towards Genzai’s throat, a terrifying echo of her predatory nature, eyes blazing with a hunger long denied.

Adrenaline jolted Genzai back to action. He scrambled out of Maria’s reach, blade flashing as it sank deep into her chest. A sickening crunch as half her right arm separated, spewing crimson like a burst dam.

The feral hunger in her eyes dimmed with the wound. She crumpled to the ground, strength evaporating like mist. Fatigue crashed over her, threatening to drag her under its dark tide.

Panting, Genzai’s panic receded, the adrenaline’s grip loosening. He touched his cheek, feeling the warmth of trickling blood.

His hand revealed a crimson smear – Maria’s claw had grazed him. If not for his sword, he’d be dead right now.

Rage flared in Genzai’s chest. He stalked towards Maria, her stillness a stark contrast to his churning emotions.

“Bitch!”

He crouched down and slapped her face, leaving a red handprint on Maria’s cheek. The pain roused her slightly, and she looked at Genzai with anger, hatred, and frustration in her eyes.

“You know, doll face, I’ve never f*cked a vampire before,” he said, leering at Maria’s body. “But I think there’s a first time for everything, right?” Genzai said with a lustful smirk before using his sword to cut open her armor, creating a deep V-neck in Maria’s black kevlar-like armor.

—

A primal jolt of fear slammed into Genzai, twisting the hallway entrance into a portal to a hellscape. Blood-soaked and echoing with screams, it sent shivers down his spine, each tap-tap-tap of approaching footsteps like a death knell.

Emerging from the darkness, a figure clad in a stark black suit strolled nonchalantly, a katana held casually in his left hand. Despite his youthful face, an aura of chilling power clung to him, making Genzai’s survival instincts scream retreat – run, and never look back.

“Enjoying yourself, tormenting the fallen?” the man drawled, his voice sending ice splinters down Genzai’s spine. He knelt beside Maria, his movements smooth and predatory despite the deadly air he carried.

With measured steps, the man in black knelt beside Maria, his youthful features betraying the grim power etched in his eyes. He held out a blood-red capsule, its luminescence casting an unearthly glow on their faces. “Drink, Maria-san,” he spoke softly, his voice laced with a strange reverence. “This contains our lord’s blood, a gift from our lord, Envy-san said It will mend your wounds and restore your strength.”

Being ignored, Genzai, fueled by rage and blinded by bloodlust, saw only an opportunity. A smirk twisted his lips as he lunged, blade flashing, aiming to sever the man’s head in a single stroke. Victory, he imagined, was already his. But the world lurched. Metal met metal with a bone-shattering clang.

Unfazed, the man parried with the pommel of his sheathed katana, the movement fluid and precise. He slowly turned, his gaze locking onto Genzai.

For a heart-stopping moment, Genzai felt a phantom blade pierce his throat, the illusion fueled by the raw fear radiating from this seemingly unassuming warrior. This was no ordinary man – this was Momotaro, Daniel’s samurai, and his icy glare spoke volumes of the danger he posed.

“Your death can wait… I’m not yet free to play with you,” Momotaro said calmly to Genzai before shifting his attention to Maria, who was beginning to recover as her vampiric regeneration kicked in, healing all her wounds and injuries.

“Thank you, Mr. Momotaro,” Maria said, bowing before standing up.

Momotaro rose with effortless grace, his stance shifting to a protective barrier between Maria and Genzai. “Your thanks are due to our lord, Maria-san. His blood flows within you now.”

“Go and assist Lady Koyuki. I’ll deal with this gutter rat. You’re the only one who knows her exact location,” Momotaro instructed, still glaring toward Genzai who was in his defensive stance.

“Yes!” Maria acknowledged before swiftly heading toward the stairs leading to the final level of the basement.

—

With Maria vanished down the stairs, Momotaro’s gaze pinned the trembling mercenary. The air hummed with unspoken tension, thick enough to choke on. A blur of steel – Momotaro’s katana snaked towards Genzai, only to meet the jarring clang of the cursed blade in his hand.

Genzai gaped, a strangled cry trapped in his throat. “When… how…?” he stammered, the parry a reflex so quick it bypassed his conscious mind. It wasn’t skill, but sheer panic fueling his movement.

Momotaro narrowed his eyes, a flicker of intrigue crossing his features. This rising mercenary was fast, yes, but there was a discordance, a lack of control. He feinted, unleashing two lightning-fast slashes from opposing angles.

“Gaarrrrh.. Arg!”

Clank, clang! Genzai blocked again, but his cry of pain was choked off by a sickening twist – his arm contorted at an unnatural angle, bone screaming under the strain as blood welled from the wound.

“I see,” Momotaro murmured, his voice a low rumble. Three more measured blows followed, each clang accompanied by Genzai’s agonized scream. His mangled arm, unable to keep pace with the cursed blade’s power, twisted further, muscle tearing under the relentless pressure.

Blood sprayed like a macabre ballet as Momotaro’s assault continued. “It’s not your skill deflecting my strikes,” he stated calmly, his voice carrying the weight of steel. “It’s the sword itself! dragging your arm along with it.”

With a final, bone-chilling flourish, Momotaro unleashed a heavy slash.

Clank!… and crack! Genzai roared, “Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaggggghhh!!”

His broken arm is a grotesque parody of itself, bone piercing through skin in a horrifying display. Yet, the cursed blade held, somehow deflecting the blow.

Momotaro’s gaze sharpened, cold and calculating. “Just a common thug who stumbled upon a relic in some forgotten ruin, wouldn’t you say?” he challenged, his voice laced with icy steel.

“Urgh…” Genzai grimaced as he held his broken arm, yet his hand still strangely clung firmly to the cursed sword.

Locking eyes with Momotaro, Genzai’s hand dangled at his side, a large puff of smoke suddenly bursting forth. Taking advantage of the smoke screen, Genzai hurled a smoke bomb to the ground, obscuring his escape as he darted towards the exit. L1terary-N0v3l hosted the first appearance of this chapter at N0vel.B1n.

[You… You damn brat! Just you wait! Just you wait! I’ll… I’ll make you regret crossing me!] Genzai seethed inwardly as he fled, frustration and anger boiling within him, unable to unleash it on Momotaro due to their vast difference in skill.

Genzai ran frantically, like a rat seeking refuge, his destination another section of the basement where the barracks were located.

“You damn fools! We have intruders! Follow me…” Genzai bellowed upon reaching the hallway leading to the barracks, his urgency fueled by anger. However, upon arrival, he was met with a chilling sight.

The hallway before him was a macabre tableau of death. Fallen Shogun’s soldiers lay scattered like discarded puppets, their lifeless eyes wide with frozen shock. The air hung heavy with the unsettling silence of their swift demise. Only scattered weapons and overturned helmets hinted at the brief struggles that had unfolded. Genzai knew, with a chilling certainty, that their killer hadn’t lingered.

“They were brave warriors, loyal to their lord. Despite their inferiority in skill, they still dared to challenge me,” a familiar voice intoned behind Genzai.

Tap… Tap… Tap…

Momotaro walked calmly, following Genzai into the blood-soaked hallway.

“And what of you? A mere mercenary, a pretense of a warrior, a gutter rat!” Momotaro’s voice dripped with disdain as he regarded Genzai, a sharp contrast to the respectful gaze he cast upon the fallen warriors.