wicked mark

Cyrus's eyes flickered open, his vision blurred as he found himself in a strange space. The floor beneath him was bizarrely textured, and the air reeked of decay. As his senses sharpened, he realized the unsettling truth—he was inside the stomach of some monstrous creature. The thought made his skin crawl, but even that concern was overshadowed by the searing pain radiating from his left eye—no, the entire left side of his face.

He couldn't comprehend the source of this agony, but with it came something far more sinister. A wave of overwhelming rage surged through him, a bloodthirsty fury unlike anything he'd ever felt before. It consumed his thoughts, clawing at his mind and refusing to let go.

Cyrus clutched his chest, his breath uneven, as he muttered to himself in a low voice,

"What is this rage I'm feeling?"

A deep, unfamiliar voice responded, cutting through the oppressive atmosphere.

"Hmm… it seems it's starting sooner than I expected. But back then… you were truly terrifying, Miravine."

Startled, Cyrus's gaze snapped toward the source of the voice. A figure emerged from the shadows, stepping closer with an air of unshakable calm. Instinctively, Cyrus braced himself, ready to defend against any threat.

As the figure came into full view, Cyrus froze in surprise. It was a fox—its fur as white as freshly fallen snow. The fox wore a black kimono as a base layer, draped with a pink vestment, both elegant and otherworldly. Wooden geta adorned its feet, clicking softly against the strange surface as it walked. In its left paw, it held a kiseru, a traditional smoking pipe, smoke curling lazily from its end.

But the most striking feature of the fox wasn't its clothing or its calm demeanor. It was its nine tails, each swaying gently behind it, radiating an aura of ancient power and mystery.

"Even though we never met, your mother should have at least mentioned me one time..I've been searching for you for quite a while now…"

Cyrus raised a trembling hand to the left side of his face, his expression a mix of pain and confusion.

"I've heard of you… from my mother and my grandfather. Especially my mother. She used to tell me not to be surprised if, one day, a white fox with nine tails showed up to visit me."

The white fox nodded slowly, its nine tails swaying behind it.

"I have known your family for quite some time… at least since your great-grandfather was your age. I believed that by watching the Miravine family closely, I would one day find the thing I've been searching for."

Its sharp, golden eyes fixed on Cyrus, unblinking.

"And that thing… you might possess it, Miravine."

As Cyrus was about to respond, the intense wave of rage and the searing pain in his face suddenly intensified, overwhelming him. His body convulsed with agony, unsure whether to clutch his chest or his face—both were in unbearable pain.

"Argh!!"

He had never felt such torment in his life. The strange fox watched him in silence, its golden eyes unwavering. The fox took a slow, deliberate drag from its kiseru, letting out a heavy sigh before speaking.

"I'm not one to judge, but you shouldn't have let your emotions get the better of you, Miravine."

The fox stepped closer, its paws making barely a sound on the strange floor, before stopping just before the convulsing Cyrus.

"Because of that… he can leave his mark on your body."

The fox gently touched Cyrus's face, studying him with a concerned expression. Its golden eyes narrowed as it whispered to itself in a low voice,

"Eyebrows the color of red fire… his eyes have turned dark yellow… the left side of his face… slightly blue…"

The fox paused, a flicker of realization crossing its face.

"Did I really find him?"

Suddenly, Cyrus moved his arm with a speed that shouldn't have been possible, launching a punch straight toward the fox's face. But just before it made contact, the punch halted in midair, as though some unseen force had arrested its momentum. It wasn't that Cyrus had a change of heart; no, it was as if his punch had simply lost all its velocity as it neared the fox's face, unable to touch it.

The fox sighed, its eyes steady and unflinching as it spoke.

"It seems you've gone berserk... but don't worry. I won't kill you immediately. I have enough respect for your family to not do that." He paused, then added with a hint of resignation, "So, I'll set my own rage aside and confirm whether what I think is true or not."

The fox's gaze softened slightly as he introduced himself.

"My name is Shirokae Haruka. But since you're a Miravine, you can call me Nine-Tails Grandpa. Let's hope we meet again."

Cyrus slowly rose from the ground, his body trembling with anger. His mouth fumed with rage as his right eye turned completely white, while his left eye had become dark yellow. His left eyebrow now burned a fiery red, and the left side of his face was deepening in blue. With a guttural, animalistic roar, he lunged at Shirokae, moving with a speed at least twice that of a speeding bullet.

"It seems your rage toward humanity has gotten the better of you," Shirokae observed calmly. "If you can't handle the burden that we shamans carry, then you shouldn't be a shaman at all."

But Shirokae did not dodge, nor did he fight back. Each time Cyrus's punch was about to land, it stopped midair, as if held by an invisible force.

"Like I said," Shirokae continued, his voice steady, "I can't judge. I am a spirit guided by rage, after all. But... acting on rage and being consumed by it are two very different things. When you follow the path of rage, it's like walking a fine line between two edges. One edge will lead you to your own destruction if you're consumed by it. The other edge... it leads to a far more destructive fate."

He looked at Cyrus with unblinking eyes.

"You should not fall to either edge," Shirokae added. "And if you can avoid falling into one of them, the rage in your heart can give you a power that is unstoppable."

With a flick of his finger, Shirokae sent Cyrus flying several kilometers, his body crashing into the ground with a deafening thud.

"But it's obvious," Shirokae said, his voice still calm, "if you try to do any of the things I've told you, you'll fall into an edge the moment you try to walk down my path. So... control yourself, Miravine."

Cyrus stumbled as he hit the ground, but in an instant, he sprang back to his feet and dashed forward, moving with such speed that to any human eye—mundane or even the most advanced surveillance camera—he was nothing more than a blur.

He circled Shirokae, his movements swift and calculated, trying to catch the fox off guard. Then, with a sudden stop, he lunged at Shirokae, delivering a punch with devastating force. However, the blow landed not on Shirokae's face, but on his finger.

The fox, unfazed, took a leisurely drag from his kiseru and blew the smoke directly into Cyrus's face, his expression as calm as ever.

"What's all this rage for, Miravine? Is this all you've got?"

Without warning, Shirokae placed his finger against the ground. In an instant, Cyrus's fist and body were forced into the earth with tremendous force. The impact was so violent that it sounded like an explosion, echoing through the space.

The force was so overwhelming that anyone else who had witnessed the scene would have believed Cyrus had been crushed or killed. But Shirokae, his eyes wise and knowing, understood better than anyone that this was far from the end.

Shirokae continued to smoke his kiseru, exhaling the smoke as he felt something grab onto his clothes. When he looked down, his expression remained calm as he saw Cyrus, bloodied and battered, still desperate to rise. His eyes burned with bloodthirsty rage.

With a sigh, Shirokae spoke softly, as if weary of the endless struggle.

"You really don't know how to give up, do you? The two of you..."

Then, for the first time, Shirokae's gaze sharpened. A subtle but dangerous desire to hurt flickered in his eyes.

Without another word, he looked at Cyrus with a flick of his wrist, sending the young shaman flying with a force that was almost unreal. Cyrus tumbled through the air at an incredible speed, rolling across the ground before finally coming to a stop.

It wasn't a punch. It wasn't a weapon. It was pure, unrestrained force—an expression of Shirokae's will to hurt, and with that desire alone, he could have easily ended Cyrus's life.

Shirokae took a few steps forward, his movements steady, until he stopped beside Cyrus, who was still lying face down on the ground. Gently, he turned Cyrus's body over and saw that, to his surprise, the bloodied face was now back to normal.

Shirokae let out a deep sigh, a small, gentle smile appearing on his lips.

"Well, it's time for you and I to have a deep conversation, Miravine."

chapter forty-five end