Chapter 602: A Dangerous Game of Intent II

Several customers already present lost the easy ability to stand still; their conversations faltered, their hands tightened on whatever they had been examining.

A few nearer the door took an instinctive step backward.

Others simply froze, eyes tracking toward the source of the sudden shift without fully understanding what they were looking at.

Katana stood completely still in the middle of the disheveled weapon shop.

She did not move or speak. She did not even seem to breathe.

Her eyes remained wide, but the bright spark of expectation that had been there only a moment earlier had been replaced by raw, open terror.

It was the kind of terror that does not announce itself with screams or flight, but simply freezes the body in place, holds it still, makes it wait for whatever is coming.

Benjamin’s crystal-blue eyes were glowing with an unnatural, cold light that seemed to throw faint reflections across the nearest blades, turning each polished surface into a small mirror that multiplied the glow.

His right hand was set in a clear striking position, fingers slightly curled as though he intended to deliver a sharp open-palmed blow.

Dark tendrils of bloodlust leaked visibly from his body, coiling and twisting in the air around him like living smoke, like something that had been waiting inside him and had finally been given permission to escape.

The pressure they had was heavy enough to make the wooden racks creak and to set several of the lighter hanging weapons swaying on their pegs.

"I... I’m s-sorry—!" Katana’s voice cracked on the second word, splitting in the middle like something fragile that had been struck.

Her entire frame had begun to tremble—shoulders, hands, even the ends of her long black hair.

She was already shifting her weight backward, preparing to do the only thing left to her: apologize harder, retreat, drop to her knees if necessary, anything to stop whatever was about to happen.

But his hand surged forward.

A great, concentrated gust of wind exploded outward from the motion.

It tore through the store with violent, uncontrolled force, slamming the front doors hard against their frames and rattling every window in its casement until the glass sang.

Loose papers, oil cloths, and small display tags flew in chaotic spirals.

Outside, the hanging wooden sign could be heard banging repeatedly against the wall, a steady rhythm of impact that seemed to mark the passage of the chaos.

Katana’s long black hair was ripped completely free of any remaining order; it danced and fluttered wildly around her face and shoulders, stinging her eyes and mouth.

A sharp, primal chill raced across her skin from the crown of her head all the way to her heels, raising every fine hair along her arms.

Her mouth hung open. Her eyes rolled sideways to stare at the hand that now hovered only inches from her left cheek—close enough that she could feel the displaced air against her skin and count the faint lines on his palm.

Her heartbeat pounded against her ribs so hard she could hear the blood in her ears.

Her fists had clenched with such force that the nails broke the skin of both palms; thin threads of bright blood welled up between her fingers and dripped unnoticed onto the floorboards in small, dark spots.

"Ehehe! Sweet revenge, huh?"

Benjamin retracted both his hand and bloodlust in the same smooth motion.

The dark tendrils collapsed inward and vanished as if they had never existed.

The oppressive weight lifted from the room in a single breath, leaving only the ordinary afternoon air and the scattered evidence of the sudden gale.

He puffed his chest out, clearly pleased with the result of his demonstration.

"My adopted father always told me: If they hit you once, hit them five times in the eye. Seemed like solid advice at the time."

Katana stared at his gloating face for a long second. Then her gaze moved slowly, carefully, across the rest of the store.

She took in the disheveled racks, the weapons lying on the floor, the stunned customers who still stood frozen in place or pressed back against the walls, the doors that now hung slightly crooked on their hinges.

She absorbed the full extent of the damage in complete silence.

And in the next moment the tears came.

They poured from her eyes like a dam that had simply given way under too much pressure.

There was no gradual build, no warning shimmer; one second her face was blank with residual shock, the next it was wet and open with distress.

The tears ran in continuous tracks down her pale cheeks and dripped from her chin onto the front of her sleeveless shirt.

"Huh?! D-Did I scare you that much?!" Benjamin jolted as if someone had struck him instead.

Both of his hands rose and hovered uselessly in the air between them, fingers opening and closing as he tried to decide whether to reach for her or give her space.

The pride of a moment earlier collapsed into open, flustered panic.

In a very small voice, still dabbing at the continuous stream of tears with the back of one wrist, Katana began to speak.

Each phrase was broken by soft, wet sniffs:

"H... Horrible... You are horrible, Benjamin... sniff... I was simply... playing with you... Why did you... sniff... have to frighten me like that? Baka... Peanut. Ugly. Strange eyes. Do not ever talk to me again."

[She’s verbally bullying me!]

"Uhm, I’m so very sorry!" Benjamin stepped forward and pulled her into a careful embrace before the next sob could fully form.

One hand rose at once to pat the back of her head in slow, repetitive motions while she hiccuped against his shoulder.

His voice dropped into a rapid, earnest stream of promises, the words tumbling over one another in his urgency to repair the damage.

"I swear I won’t do it again. This will be the last time, okay? Please stop crying. Look—I’ll make it up to you. I promise to make you a legendary-grade sword. One that will definitely appeal to your soul, something that actually speaks to you the way the others didn’t. Right, Sys? We’re going to forge something proper. Just please stop crying."