We really Shouldn't Have... (3)

Miguel crouched slightly, his body taut like a drawn bow. A heartbeat later, he erupted into a blazing sprint, his figure blurring into a streak of motion. His whip spiraled around him in rapid, hypnotic circles, slicing through the air. With a crack, he lashed out toward the kitten.

But just as the whip was about to strike its target, the kitten's body seemed to dissolve. It wasn't a dodge or a swift movement. The whip passed through it as if through a mirage, smashing violently into the ground behind.

BOOM!

The impact sent dust spiraling into the air and carved a gaping crater into the earth.

But Miguel couldn't afford to dwell on it. Suddenly, a swarm of tentacles erupted from the kitten.

They shot toward him, each one razor-sharp and deadly. Miguel's reaction was instantaneous. He spun, his whip snapping around him like a living shield.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

The whip intercepted the first wave of strikes, each collision sending visible shockwaves rippling through the air and ground.

But the tentacles weren't simple projectiles. They zigzagged, leapt, and curved at impossible angles, adapting to his defense. Miguel moved with them, his body a whirlwind of motion. He parried each assault with superhuman precision, his whip extending and recoiling as though it was a part of him.

"That's not going to work twice," he growled, leaping backward to create some distance.

The kitten remained where it was, seated serenely, its glowing eyes fixed on him.

Miguel rotated his body. With deliberate, measured force, he struck his whip downward again. This time, a shockwave of energy exploded from the impact, tearing through the hillside and scattering dazzling sparks.

But once again, the kitten remained untouched, the attack phasing harmlessly through it like an illusion.

Miguel didn't have time to be astonished. The tentacles lunged again, multiplying at a terrifying pace, now forming an endless swarm. They surrounded him, closing in from every direction.

He sprang onto the tentacles themselves, his feet finding purchase on the writhing appendages as if dancing on moving ropes. He leapt, twisted mid-air, and used his whip as a grappling line to launch himself clear, narrowly evading a tentacle that lunged for his chest.

He landed hard, his whip carving the air around him to repel the approaching attacks.

The tentacles surged forward again, faster, more relentless. Miguel snapped his whip with the precision of a seasoned dancer in a battle of life and death.

CRACK! CRACK!

He deflected the initial strikes, but the onslaught showed no signs of slowing. The mass of appendages swarmed him, attacking from every angle.

In a desperate gambit, he hurled his whip forward, wrapping it around one of the tentacles. His muscles bulged as he yanked with a powerful tug, attempting to lift the creature into the air.

But the moment he grasped the tentacle, new appendages sprouted from it like serpents, faster than he could react. They unraveled in an instant, coiling toward him.

Miguel barely had time to let go. The tentacles trapped him before he could escape, his whip entangled in their grip. Helpless, he raised his arms to shield his face at the last second.

SHRIIIEEEK!

The appendages' claws tore into his clothes and skin, leaving wide, bloody gashes across his chest and shoulders. The pain was sharp, searing, but Miguel mustered all his strength to yank his weapon free with one final pull.

In a surge of power, the whip slipped from the tentacles' grasp, and Miguel leaped backward, barely evading another attack. He hit the ground hard, rolling, his hands shaking as he struggled to catch his breath. Blood dripped from his chest, and every movement felt like it would shatter him into pieces.

Even so, he lifted his head. The kitten was still there, sitting unbothered. Intact. Its tiny tail flicked the air nonchalantly.

Through gritted teeth, Miguel shouted, "What are you, dammit?!"

The kitten didn't flinch. Then, in a deep, cold voice, it replied, "Are you done flailing? You'll answer my questions. Now."

Miguel tilted his head slightly, a smirk curling his lips.

"Oh, really?" he said, chuckling darkly. "Gotta report back to your master, huh? A good little lapdog on a tight leash?"

He raised his hands theatrically, but without warning, drove his thumbs into his own eyes.

Blood spurted out, painting his face red. Yet instead of crying out in pain, Miguel erupted into laughter, his voice hoarse and unsettling.

Everything shifted.

The scene dissolved in a blinding flash of light. When Miguel opened his eyes again, he was suspended in a massive, pitch-black chamber. Tentacles coiled tightly around his arms and legs, leaving him hanging like a broken marionette.

And there it was—the kitten. Its paws had stretched into long, razor-sharp limbs. Its snout hovered inches from Miguel's bloodied face.

"An interesting CT, huh?" Miguel muttered, his voice low.

The kitten stared at him, silence stretching between them. Slowly, it tilted its head.

"Impressive. I'll give you that. But look at yourself." Its claws inched closer to Miguel's face. "Even now, you're in my power."

Miguel let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Yeah, that's what all your kind say—right before they lose."

The kitten pulled back slightly, tilting its head again. "You seem unusually confident for a man on the brink of destruction. So I'll ask again: Who sent you? And why?"

"Save your breath, furball," Miguel growled. "Even if I knew something, you wouldn't get it from me."

The kitten remained silent, but the tentacles tightened their grip. Miguel, unfazed, let out another laugh.

"Let me at least tell you one thing."

His grin widened, teeth gleaming white despite the dried blood on his face. Dangling in the creature's grasp, he took a deep breath, ignoring the searing pain radiating through his body.

"You don't know it yet, fluffball, but in my line of work, information is power," he rasped, pausing for dramatic effect before cocking his head slightly. "Tell me, do you even know why I fight with that whip?"

The kitten said nothing.

Miguel chuckled, a harsh, dry sound. "Of course, you don't." His bound hands twitched ever so slightly, gesturing toward the whip lying discarded on the ground far below. "That whip, my little friend, comes from my homeland. We call it the 'Black Cord.' A marvel, truly. It has the power to break any Curse Technique. Absolutely any."

The kitten didn't flinch, but its pupils narrowed into thin slits.

"But you... you noticed that I didn't break anything, didn't you?" Miguel continued, his voice dropping lower, almost hypnotic. He froze, studying his opponent's reaction with predatory intensity. Then he exhaled, as if revealing some grand secret.

"That's because the one wielding the rope can activate or deactivate that ability at will."

Slowly, a savage grin spread across Miguel's face. "Any idea why?"

Suddenly, a shockwave rippled through the entire area. A surge of cursed energy exploded from Miguel's body, shattering the tentacles constricting him like bubbles under pressure. Smoking chunks of flesh splattered to the ground as Miguel landed effortlessly.

With a casual motion, he picked up his rope, snapping it once in the air as if testing its tension. A mocking smirk crept onto his lips as he tilted his head, locking eyes with the kitten's now-hesitant glare. For the first time, the creature seemed unsure.

"You know the saying?" Miguel asked, his voice deep and measured. Straightening slowly, he wiped the blood off his chest with the back of his hand.

"When you stare into the abyss, remember that the abyss also stares into you."

He paused, letting the words linger, then began spinning the rope in a slow, deliberate arc around him.

"Except in your case, little kitten... the abyss just smiled back."

TO BE CONTINUED!

A/N: Merry Christmas 🎁

Next Chapter: We really Shouldn't Have... (4)