Whispers of Shikiban:The king walks among us-Chapter 23 --

"Dammit!" Reika staggered back, blood trickling from the gash above her eyebrow, painting her face with thick red streaks. Her breaths came short and rapid, her chest rising and falling in jagged bursts. The holographic kageshiki in front of her stood tall and motionless, katana pointed low, its edge gleaming with her blood. The damn thing wasn't even breathing. It didn't need to.

She wiped the blood from her eyes, but it just smeared across her cheek, sticky and hot.

Am I supposed to die like this?

That thought hit her harder than the wound. For a second, everything blurred—the light, the fight, even the pain—and she heard it. That voice. Cold. Familiar.

No one cares about you, Reika. You're nothing. Not even your appearance can save you from us. Your mind will always be ours. Always.

She gritted her teeth. That voice wasn't the kageshiki's. It was a memory. Her parents. Their hatred. Their obsession with control. Their voices were etched into her brain like scars that never healed.

"You're weak. You're a waste. A failed investment."

Reika's hands trembled as her past clawed at her from inside. The nights locked in her room, the training drills that didn't stop even after she'd collapsed, the words they drilled into her—be perfect or be nothing.

She had always been nothing to them.

But right now, she had a choice. She could let those words win. Let them decide the ending.

Or—

Her grip on the katana tightened. Her vision cleared. The pain became fuel.

"No," she whispered, almost to herself. "Screw that."

The hologram moved, flickering unnaturally as it reset its stance. Reika straightened, one foot sliding back into her ready position. Her hair clung to her face, sticky with blood and sweat. Her badge pulsed on her chest—dim, but still active. Still feeding her power.

She didn't wait this time. She launched forward, fast.

The kageshiki's katana came up to meet her, its reflexes perfectly calculated. Reika's blade struck toward its neck, but the hologram shimmered—vanished.

She pivoted.

Expected.

As it reappeared to her right, she twisted and dropped low, her katana swinging into its knee. The strike landed—metal cracked, sparks flew. The construct glitched violently, twitching as red light burst from the damaged joint.

Gotcha.

She didn't stop. She twisted her hips and launched a second strike straight into its gut. The kageshiki phased again, vanishing at the last second—but slower this time.

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She was wearing it down.

Pain flared through her leg. She stumbled, realizing too late that she'd torn something during the lunge. Her knee buckled. She dropped to one hand.

The kageshiki reappeared in front of her, katana raised for a clean kill.

She couldn't move in time.

Move, dammit, MOVE—

The badge on her chest flared, sending a surge of energy through her muscles. The pain dulled. Her vision sharpened.

She pushed off the ground, spinning as she came up, and drove her katana upward in a blind strike—

CRACK.

It connected.

The blade split through the kageshiki's chin, up through its head. The construct froze—glitched—and shattered like glass in mid-air. Sparks rained down as its remains faded into nothing.

Silence.

Then the voice. Icy, detached. "Congratulations, Reika. You've passed the test."

She stood there, panting, her blood mixing with the shattered particles of her enemy. Her leg throbbed. Her head felt like it was splitting open. But her grip on the sword never loosened.

She'd won.

But it didn't feel like victory. Not yet. Her jaw clenched as she looked around the empty arena. This wasn't about beating some AI illusion. It wasn't about impressing anyone.

It was about not breaking. Not this time.

The iron doors creaked open with a hiss, revealing the hallway that led back to the central hub. Dimly lit. Cold. The bodies of previous candidates were still there—some unconscious, some worse. It was a graveyard of failures.

She stepped over them without flinching.

Ahead, two familiar figures stood—Daigo and Ishigo. Alive. Breathing. That should've felt like relief, but it didn't. Not fully.

Ishigo ran to her first. "Reika! You—your head, your leg—what the hell happened? You look like you went through hell."

She brushed past him. "I'll take a treatment capsule. I'm fine."

"Fine?" he said, voice raised. "You're bleeding like crazy!"

"I said I'm fine." Her voice was sharp. Final.

Daigo approached from behind, hands behind his head like nothing had happened. "Yo, nice of you to join us. Guess the death trial's done, huh?"

Reika shot him a glare. "That was just the pre-test."

Daigo blinked. "Wait—that was the pre-test? You've gotta be kidding me."

Reika didn't answer. She was already scanning the walls. Watching. Waiting for the next announcement.

Because she knew this wasn't over.

Up on the observation deck, a few figures leaned against the glass, watching everything unfold.

Koharu smirked. "She's cute, but man, she fights like a demon. Did you see how she baited that last strike?"

Souta crossed his arms. "Yeah. But don't let the face fool you. She's ice. Cold. Calculating. She fights like someone who's already been through ten wars."

"Damn, that's kinda hot," Koharu joked.

"She'll be mine," Souta said quietly.

"Huh?" Hedeaki glanced over. "You planning to recruit her?"

"She's already mine. She just doesn't know it yet."

Back below, Reika said nothing. Her fists were clenched. Her knuckles white.

Everything burned. Her leg, her head, her thoughts.

She could still hear her parents' voices in the back of her head. Still feel that invisible weight on her back. But it was different now. They didn't have control anymore.

She did.

She'd survive every test they threw at her. She'd crush every damn kageshiki in this place. And when she was done, she'd rewrite every label they'd ever slapped on her.

Weak? No.

Worthless? Not even close.

Failure?

Not. A. Chance.

She stood in that hallway, broken and bleeding, but unshakable.

Because Reika wasn't just fighting anymore.

She was taking everything back.