Chapter 89: No

Jagger didn’t hesitate.

His heel drove into the floor.

Crack.

The wood beneath him splintered as force transferred cleanly through his frame, hips rotating and shoulders snapping forward in one continuous motion. He launched in a straight-line burst, center of gravity low, blades aligned with intent. The Bowie knife led, angled slightly inward, aimed not just for her heart but to force a reaction.

Distance collapsed in an instant.

Soo-min’s pupils shrank.

At the final fraction of a second, she shifted, not backward but off-line. A subtle pivot of her lead foot allowed her torso to slip just outside the killing angle. The Bowie knife carved past her face, close enough to slice a thin line along her ear. Blood flicked into the air.

Jagger did not overextend.

His shoulder rolled through the miss, momentum flowing smoothly into his second hand. The Scavenger Fang came up from low right to high left, a rising diagonal meant to open her abdomen and drag upward through the ribs.

Soo-min’s response was immediate.

She stepped in instead of retreating.

Her body folded into his space, killing the arc before it could fully develop. Her left hand shot out, claws driving straight into the inside of his forearm, just beneath the muscle line.

Thud.

The serrated blade faltered mid-swing.

Pain surged up Jagger’s arm. His grip spasmed, and the Scavenger Fang slipped from his fingers, clattering once against the floorboards before bouncing away.

“Tch!”

Before he could recover, her other hand snapped up behind his neck.

She did not pull.

She guided.

A sharp downward force timed perfectly with her rising knee.

CRACK.

Her knee drove into his sternum with brutal precision, hips thrusting forward to maximize impact. The strike compressed his chest and forced the air violently from his lungs.

“Ghk!”

Jagger’s body recoiled, spine arching as his balance broke backward. His heels skidded against the wood, control slipping for a split second.

That second was all she needed.

Soo-min dropped low.

Her weight shifted fluidly, one hand brushing the floor as she pivoted. Her eyes locked onto the fallen Scavenger Fang.

She did not reach.

She snatched.

The weapon was in her hand before it fully settled.

There was no pause and no flourish.

She rose into motion, twisting through her hips as her arm lashed out in a tight horizontal cut.

The blade flashed.

It tore across Jagger’s chest, fabric splitting first, then skin. A shallow but vicious line opened from rib to collar, blood following instantly in a hot spill.

Jagger staggered another half-step, teeth clenched, muscles tightening against the pain as his body tried to re-stabilize.

Soo-min did not press.

She released.

The Scavenger Fang spun from her fingers, not discarded carelessly but thrown with intent. The blade skidded low across the floor, sliding out of immediate reach and disappearing beneath the couch in a dull scrape.

Space was created deliberately.

Now they were reset.

Jagger stood a few steps back, chest rising unevenly, blood running down his torso in thin streams. His empty hand flexed once, then again, testing the damage in his forearm where her claws had pierced deep.

Soo-min straightened slowly.

Her breathing remained controlled and measured. Her injured shoulder still bled freely, but her stance did not falter. One arm stayed forward, the other slightly back, her weight balanced on the balls of her feet.

Her gaze locked onto his.

The smile was gone.

Only the calculation remained.

Jagger rolled his shoulders once, forcing air back into his lungs while ignoring the burn in his chest. His fingers tightened around the Bowie knife.

“Stat points.”

A blue system panel flared at the edge of Jagger’s vision, half-transparent through the heat of Corrupted Surge and the blood running into his eyes.

[Stat distribution points: 10]

“Put all ten into Stamina.”

The panel blinked once and vanished.

A fresh surge rolled through him almost instantly. It did not erase the pain or stop the bleeding, but it changed the math. His lungs opened wider. The heaviness dragging at his limbs loosened. The fire in his muscles steadied instead of consuming him. Blood still ran down his chest. The wounds still burned. But the exhaustion that had been closing around him stepped back just enough to matter.

Across from him, Soo-min’s eyes narrowed.

“You can still do that now?” she asked, almost smiling despite the blood trailing from her mouth. “You really are something broken.”

Jagger rolled one shoulder, then the other, feeling the new reserve settle into him like another heartbeat beneath the first.

“Nah,” he said, lifting the Bowie knife in his left hand. His right fist tightened, Bone Rattler creaking softly. “I’m just getting used to it.”

He exploded forward.

This time, there was no probing, no measured setup. He crashed into her space with pure forward violence, Bowie knife leading from his left, his right hand coiled tight with the Bone Rattler as Corrupted Surge drove everything faster and harder than before.

The first hit was his right.

A Bone Rattler–loaded left hook would have been wrong. Instead, his right hand snapped across her jaw, the reinforced strike cracking against bone and turning her head sharply to the side. Before her body could fully react, he stepped in deeper and drove his left elbow across her face, the Bowie knife held tight and controlled along his forearm to avoid fouling the strike.

Cartilage crunched.

Her balance broke for a fraction of a second.

Jagger shifted his weight and hammered a short right into her ribs, the Bone Rattler slamming in with brutal force. He felt the impact sink into flesh and bone.

Air burst from her lungs.

She answered immediately.

Her good hand ripped across his left bicep, claws punching through cloth and carving four wet lines into muscle. As he turned with the recoil of his own strike, she twisted with him and dragged those same claws across his back, tearing shirt and skin in a burning diagonal rake.

Jagger did not stop.

He caught her wrist on the recoil.

His right hand clamped down just above the joint, Bone Rattler locking in place. He stepped across her line, hips turning, and wrenched hard.

Crack.

The sound was sharp and ugly.

Soo-min gasped, the first real break in her composure.

Jagger tore the broken arm downward to pull her open and drove his right fist into her ribs with everything Corrupted Surge gave him. The Bone Rattler smashed into her side in a tight, compact arc.

Something gave.

Her feet left the floor for an instant before she crashed down hard onto one knee, coughing blood onto the splintered boards.

Jagger raised the Bowie knife in his left hand and drove it down toward the back of her neck.

Soo-min dropped and rolled.

The blade punched through the floorboards where her spine had been a breath earlier, sinking deep enough to jar his arm. Before he could rip it free, her leg scythed low and took both of his out from under him.

The floor slammed into his back.

Glass shards bit into his shoulders. Blood and broken wood shifted beneath him.

Soo-min was on him instantly.

She climbed over his torso and drove her good hand toward his throat, black claws spread wide, the strike coming down like a stake. Jagger released the knife and brought both hands up, catching her wrist inches from his neck. Every muscle in his arms locked as he held it there, the tips of her claws trembling just above his skin.

Her face hovered over his.

Too close.

Close enough for him to see the disguise giving way under the blood and strain. Darkness threaded faintly beneath her skin. Her expression was still wearing Soo-min’s face, but the thing beneath it had started to bleed through.

“You keep ending up in compromising positions with me, guardian angel,” she wheezed, smiling through blood. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

Jagger bared his teeth. “Go to hell.”

Her smile widened, ugly and intimate. “I want to go to heaven with you.”

“GET OFF ME!”

He bridged hard, driving his hips up and twisting at the same time. The sudden torque broke her balance. Her clawed hand slipped off-line. He shoved across her shoulder and rolled, reversing the position in one violent scramble.

Now he was on top.

His right fist came down.

Bone Rattlers smashed into her cheek.

Twice.

Her head snapped sideways and struck the floor.

Three times.

Her brow split open, and blood sprayed across the boards.

On the fourth punch, she shrieked and slashed blindly upward. Her claws caught his neck and ripped across it in a hot, savage line.

Pain flashed white.

Jagger recoiled on instinct, one hand flying to his throat.

That was enough.

She planted a foot against his hip and kicked him off.

He crashed sideways into the leg of the couch hard enough to rattle the frame, then came back up at once, one palm pressed against his neck as blood seeped between his fingers.

Soo-min rose across from him.

Slower now.

Her breathing had changed. It was faster. Rougher. Blood ran down one side of her face and soaked the front of her shirt. Her shoulder was ruined, hanging wrong. One side of her ribcage looked partially collapsed under the skin.

Still, she smiled.

Still, she stood.

Near the wall, Abdul was on his knees over Jung, both hands locked over the wound in his chest, trying to force the blood to stay inside him. Nico knelt beside them, shaking so badly he could barely tear the med-kit open.

“Hold this here, hold it here!” Abdul barked, voice splitting with panic. “Jung, stay with me! Don’t close your eyes, bro! Don’t you dare!”

Nico fumbled a bandage with hands already slick and red. “There’s too much, Abdul. There’s too much blood!”

“Then push harder!”

Jung made a broken sound, somewhere between a groan and a choke. His lips were pale now. His eyes were barely focused. Every piece of cloth Abdul pressed into the wound turned red almost immediately.

Jagger heard them.

Soo-min heard them too.

And he saw the shift the instant it happened.

Her eyes flicked past him.

Past the fight.

Toward Jung.

Toward Abdul.

Toward Nico.

Toward the easiest kill in the room.

“No.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep