"MOVE!" Andre bellowed, already grabbing Ren by the collar and yanking him back.
The room buckled. The walls warped, melting like wax under invisible heat. Floorboards cracked and twisted, swallowing the broken door in an instant. Yui vanished behind a wave of dark wood and shuddering space.
"No—YUI!" Ren's voice cracked as he reached for her, but the path dissolved, replaced by a pulsing corridor of ribs and nails.
Reality had changed.
Andre landed hard on his feet, throwing his body between Ren and the incoming ghost. "Shit," he spat, breath fogging. "She's activated her damn realm."
The walls around them pulsed, faintly veined and fleshy, twitching with an almost breathing rhythm. The hallway behind them was gone—completely sealed off. Doors warped, bending into jagged frames. Windows stretched, the glass liquefying into dark mirrors that swallowed their reflections in silence.
Celia staggered backward until she bumped into Ren. Her face had gone pale, her eyes darting to every angle of the room like the walls themselves might bite. "What the hell do we do?! We can't leave her—she's just a kid!"
Andre's gaze locked in. His voice snapped like a whip.
"A'ight, listen up!" he barked. "If we're gonna get that lil' girl out alive, we gotta drop this monster mama. Hard. Fast."
He turned on Ren like a drill sergeant. "You—kid. You got that blade and you've been trainin'. Now it's showtime. You keep her attention, stay light on your feet. I'll flank and distract, hit her when she's focused on you. We tag-team this freak like a bar fight in orbit. Got it?"
Ren didn't hesitate. He nodded once, jaw clenched. Then, from under his coat, he drew the katana—its strange metal gleaming faintly in the warped light. Lines of glowing cobalt pulsed through the blade's edge like veins, alive and ready.
The moment his hand wrapped around the hilt, he looked different. Focused. Balanced.
Andre smirked. "Good. Now—sparkle princess—"
He spun toward Celia, eyes still sharp despite the chaos. "You're our wall. You see anything flyin' her way? You intercept it. Shields, wards, throw a chair at it if you have to."
Celia blinked, startled. "What about you?"
Andre flashed her a grin, all teeth and swagger. "I get hit? Well, honey, that just ain't happenin'."
He winked.
Celia swallowed hard but squared her shoulders, pulling her sleeves back and raising her hands. Sparks crackled across her fingertips. "Okay. Blocking. Got it. I can do blocking."
"Damn right," Andre said, rolling his neck. A soft hum vibrated from his fists—glowing faint gold, heat rippling just beneath the skin. "Pressure makes diamonds, baby."
He turned back, half-grinning at Ren, but there was no joy in his eyes. Just resolve. That heavy, grown-man weight.
"When that thing gives us an openin', you run," he said, voice low and firm, threaded with a steel Ren hadn't heard before. "You grab that little girl and you get the hell outta here. You hear me, kid?"
Ren's brows knit. "Wait, what?"
Andre rolled one shoulder with a lazy pop, like he wasn't staring death in the face. "We'll handle the monster. That's our job. Yours is to save that girl."
Ren took a step forward, voice cracking. "But—I can't leave you all behind."
"Listen, kid," Andre said, cutting him off—firm, but not unkind. He stepped in close, locking eyes with him. "We're monster hunters. That means we do two things: kill the thing that's killin', and save as many innocents as we can."
He jerked his head toward the direction Yui had vanished.
"Right now, your only job is that little girl." Then, softer, he reached out and clasped Ren's shoulder—his grip solid, grounding. "So don't waste the openin', you hear?"
Ren opened his mouth, heart thudding hard against his ribs—but then—the ceiling cracked like thunder.
A wet, echoing shriek followed. Black strands of hair poured through like water, and the Ubume descended—face twisted in pain, in rage, in love. Her arms cradled something unseen, and her voice rasped low like wind dragging across a grave:
"Mine… My child. Mine. You can't have her. You can't take her from me!"
Her head snapped upward. Her eyes—bleeding, milky, and hollow—locked onto them like heat-seeking knives.
Andre didn't flinch. He tilted his head, raised an unimpressed brow, and planted his feet like he owned the damn floor.
"Lady, you need to calm your crusty-ass. Ain't nobody tryin' to steal your baby—we're tryin' to save her from your daycare-from-hell lookin' self."
The Ubume twitched violently, a rasping growl rising from her throat.
Andre kept going, waving a hand. "You floatin' in here with that backcombed emo hair and corpse perfume talkin' like you're mother of the year—baby, I seen fast food bags show more maternal instinct. You want a family? Start with therapy."
She shrieked—an unholy, bone-splitting wail.
"Ah, there it is," Andre muttered, cracking his knuckles with a glowing pop. "Now she mad."
"GET. AWAY. FROM. MY. BABY!"
And then she charged.
Andre spun to the side. "Showtime!"
The plan ignited.
The Ubume lunged, shrieking, her limbs spider-long and uncoiled with impossible speed. She shot straight for Andre, a blur of claws and shadowy limbs.
Andre didn't blink.
He sidestepped with a cocky grin, the floor cracking under the creature's weight as she slammed into where he'd stood. "Not today, sugarplum."
"Now, kid!" he shouted, golden fists flaring with radiant heat. "Make her regret wakin' up this morning!"
Ren was already there.
His katana cut through the air and into her side, the blade singing with purifying energy. It cleaved through silk, shadow, and sorrow—a clean, brutal arc. Her howl was sharp and shrill, and ectoplasmic ichor burst like oil, fizzling as it hit the charged air.
But she didn't stay staggered.
The Ubume's form lurched unnaturally, hair snapping like cords in a windless room. Her head jerked toward Ren, eyes flaring wide with hate and grief.
"You think you can take him? Take my baby?!" she shrieked, voice fracturing into two tones at once—one human, one not.
Her claws shot forward, blackened and jagged, aiming straight for Ren's heart.
"I'll tear you apart before I let her go!"
Ren's eyes widened—too close, too fast.
But Celia was faster.
「護りの結界—展開!」
"Barrier of protection—unfold!"
A wall of golden script erupted in front of Ren, flaring with sacred light. The Ubume's claws slammed into the shield with a blast of force, rippling the entire space—but the shield held.
Ren staggered back, panting. "Thanks—!"
"I got you!" Celia shouted, brow furrowed, breath ragged. Her arms were trembling now, but her voice never wavered. "Keep pushing—I'll hold her down!"
Andre didn't hesitate.
He charged in like a freight train, shoulders low, fists glowing like twin suns. The Ubume hadn't recovered from the barrier strike when Andre slammed a golden hook into her gut.
"You wanna keep screamin', mama drama?" he barked. "Lemme give you somethin' to cry about!"
The punch detonated like thunder. The Ubume crashed into the far wall, splattering ghost-matter in a smear of hissing, ashen residue.
"She's open!" Ren called, katana already resetting for another strike.
Andre rolled his shoulders, grinning like he was just getting started.
"Hit her like she just hexed your Spotify playlist, Celia!"
"On it!" Celia roared.
She threw both arms wide, grounding herself like a living shrine. Her chant came fast and sharp:
「精神の鎖——縛る!」
"Chains of spirit—bind!"
The room boomed with sudden pressure, the air crackling like a storm cracking open the heavens.
From the floor, searing kanji exploded in spiraling arcs. Chains of spiritual light shot upward, latching onto the Ubume's chest, shoulders, wrists—binding her midair, her form stretched tight like a screaming marionette.
Each syllable from Celia's chant flared with divine weight, branding into the ghost's aura like holy iron. The Ubume shrieked, the sound blistering with grief.
Her form flickered—wretched and monstrous one second, trembling and human the next, clutching at something in her arms that wasn't there.
"He's mine!" she howled.
"MINE! He needs her mother—he NEEDS ME!"
Andre's eyes narrowed, already moving.
He glanced at Ren—sharp, decisive. "Go save the lil girl. Now."
Ren didn't hesitate.
He dashed toward the side room, where the faint cries of the trapped child still echoed, blade drawn, heart hammering.
But the Ubume…
She snapped her head toward them.
And then—the chains broke.
Light shattered like glass.
A surge of maternal fury burst from her in a shockwave, the energy warping the floorboards, her body blinking forward faster than they could follow.
"NO! GIVE HIM BACK TO ME!"
She speedblitzed, a blur of silk, talons, and screeching anguish—barreling toward them like a banshee fired from a cannon.
Celia flinched, hands half-raised—too slow.
Andre moved.
He ducked low in a flash, just beneath the incoming claw meant for his face. His boots slid against the old boards, catching traction—and in one clean twist, he shoulder-checked Celia hard, pushing her clear of the impact zone as the Ubume shot past, wailing like a storm split open.
Then—the world changed.
Around them, the house twisted. The walls rippled like reflections in broken glass, warping with impossible depth. Floorboards stretched, doors blinked in and out of existence, and the hallway Ren had vanished down began to fracture into a kaleidoscope of repeating, shifting rooms—an illusion meant to confuse, trap, and separate.
Andre snapped his gaze toward it instantly.
"Damn—she's trying to isolate him!" he growled.
He turned on the Ubume, pivoting just fast enough to catch her as she twisted back to launch again.
But this time, he didn't redirect her.
He slammed into her.
A full-body rush, shoulder to gut, driving her backward into a buckling support beam—cracks already spidering through it from the house's magical decay. The whole frame groaned around them.
"Celia!" he barked. "That wall—left side—see it collapsing?! Hook your chains to it! NOW!"
She looked, eyes wide, spotting the half-crumbling beam groaning and folding inward as if the house were eating itself.
Without hesitation, Celia planted her boots, feet braced like rebar in the floor. Her fingers flared open, palm searing with light as she flung her hand out and shouted:
「精神の鎖よ——貫け!」
"Chains of spirit—pierce and anchor!"
A chain of glowing kanji exploded forward, a spear of pure will. It tore across the decayed space and embedded itself into the far wall. The timber cracked—deep, guttural—and began to buckle. The collapsing wall dragged the kanji chain taut like a wire trap sprung.
"Now!" Celia barked.
Andre didn't hesitate. He lunged, grabbing the Ubume's twisted, blood-caked arm and shoved with all his weight—slamming her straight into the pull of the chain. Her scream split the air, a shrieking mix of agony and rage, as the collapsing wall yanked her with it.
With a CRACK, the chain caught—snapping taut like a noose—and pinned her mid-lurch against the crushed frame of the warped space. She thrashed, limbs jerking, robes shredding beneath the pressure, but the binding held—for now.
Andre didn't waste a breath. He drove his knee into her back, using his full weight to pin her further against the twisted debris. She writhed like something boneless, shrieking curses in no language ever spoken by humans.
"Ren!" he roared, eyes locked forward. "GO! This is your window!"