F Grade Healer Becomes Strongest Biomancer-Chapter 33: Ill Intent

Mio

The blade came down.

Mio raised the shield. Black chitin met golden light, and the impact drove her knees into the floor.

Tiles cracked beneath her. The tremor ran through her bones, her teeth, the soft meat of her brain.

The shield held.

The force behind it didn’t care.

Pain lanced through her shoulder. Something had torn. The daemon’s blade hadn’t touched her, but the shockwave had found the gaps in Can’s protection.

[Reservoir: -61,000 → -54,000]

The number burned behind her eyes. Not relief, not yet. But something. Seven thousand points of debt, gone. Eaten by Can’s shield. Converted from violence into progress.

Every strike that got through. Every scrap of damage the shield couldn’t fully absorb.

It fed her. And it broke her.

This was the economy of her survival now. Pain for points. Blood for balance.

The debt was a weight. A collar around her throat that tightened with every breath.

Get up.

She rolled. The second swing carved a trench where she’d been. Desks split like kindling. The daemon followed, wings tucked close, silent.

Mio scrambled behind a support pillar. Bought herself two seconds.

Her body was screaming. But the debt was shrinking. Seven thousand points. Not enough. Not nearly enough.

She saw movement behind the towering daemon.

Silver hair gaining ground.

Kaito burst through the far door, sheathed blade already in hand.

The daemon turned.

Kaito swung.

The sheathed sword stopped three inches from the daemon’s throat.

The momentum suddenly stalled, as if the air itself had turned to glass.

Kaito’s arms locked. His whole body froze mid-strike, muscles straining against nothing, against everything.

The sheath vibrated in his grip, a high keening whine that set Mio’s teeth on edge. She could see it in his face: the confusion, the rage, the dawning horror of a man whose body had been read like scripture and found wanting.

The daemon didn’t even look at him. It knew. It had always known. Every violent thought, every killing intent, laid bare before a god that simply refused to acknowledge impurity.

It backhanded him across the room. Kaito hit the wall hard enough to crater it.

Slumped.

Didn’t get up.

No.

Mio charged. Shield raised.

She didn’t have a plan. Just moved because that’s all she could do at that moment.

The golden blade met her. This time she didn’t try to block. She angled the shield, let the strike glance, used the momentum to spin past.

[Reservoir: -54,000 → -44,000]

Ten thousand points. The collar loosened, just a fraction.

Closer. She was getting closer to zero. Every hit.

More.

The daemon caught her by the throat. Lifted her off the ground with a grace that made her want to scream.

Its fingers were warm. Not cold like death should be. Warm, pulsing with something that felt like sunlight trapped under skin.

It didn’t speak. It squeezed her tight, her vision flooded with black spots and sour ecstasy.

Her boots kicked at nothing. Heels drumming against the daemon’s legs, hollow and useless. She clawed at its wrist but there was nothing to grip, nothing to tear.

Her vision frayed at the edges. Darkness eating the ruined classroom until all that remained was the daemon’s face.

It threw her.

She hit Kaito as he was just getting up. They both went down in a tangle of limbs. His hand found her arm, hauled her upright before she could process the pain.

"Can you move?"

"Yes."

"Can you fight?"

"No." She spat blood. "It nullifies intent. Weapons won’t—"

The daemon was already there. Golden blade raised.

Kaito moved first. He pulled her against his chest, turned, put his back to the strike.

The blade punched through his shoulder. They met eyes once, after it plunged deeper.

She could see that hate in his eyes. He didn’t want to defend her at all.

His health bar dropped. Full to a quarter in one hit.

The daemon etched the blade deeper, through to her, past the shield and it shattered.

Something screamed in the back of her mind. Not words. A frequency, a severance, a heartbeat that had been humming beneath her thoughts suddenly going silent.

The phantom limb of a bond she hadn’t known was there until it wasn’t.

The shield form broke apart in fragments of black chitin, dissolving into nothing as the golden blade found her spine. She felt it scrape bone. Felt it exit through her stomach.

[HP: 147/1,480]

[Reservoir: -44,000 → -32,000]

Kaito’s blood.

Her blood.

Mixed on the golden blade that pinned them together.

The daemon withdrew its sword. Let them fall.

Mio hit the floor.

Couldn’t feel her legs.

Could feel the hole in her gut, the way her insides were trying to become outsides.

Kaito was crawling.

Still alive.

Still moving.

His sheathed blade had fallen somewhere.

"Do you hate me, Kaito?"

He stopped.

The room went quiet. Just the drip of blood on tile. Hers. His. Pooling together in the cracks between broken floor.

"What are you saying?"

"Do you hate me?"

His head turned.

Blood in his teeth. She saw it there. The thing he’d been carrying since the hair clip. Since his sister didn’t come home.

Kaito’s eyes weren’t angry anymore. They were worse. Empty.

"I fucking despise you."

Mio didn’t flinch.

"Then use that hatred. And strike me."

The daemon stood over them. Waiting. It didn’t understand yet.

Kaito did.

His hand found his blade. He rose. Blood pouring down his arm, his side, but he rose. Stood over her. The sheath in his left hand. The hilt in his right.

He looked at the hilt like it was a red-hot iron.

To kill the god, he had to stop being a hero. He had to look at the girl who took his sister and decide that her death was worth more than his salvation.

He drew.

Steel sang against the sheath. A long, keening note that wailed off the ruined walls. The sound of something that didn’t want to be freed.

The daemon turned.

It wasn’t amused. Wasn’t curious. This was a god that had never doubted its own divinity. Never once questioned the absolute nature of its purity.

Why would it? Nothing impure could touch it. Nothing ever had.

It watched Kaito raise the blade. Watched the hatred burning in his eyes. Hatred aimed at the broken girl on the floor, not at the daemon itself.

And it understood.

The daemon moved.

Mio moved faster.

She launched herself onto its back. Arms around its throat, legs wrapped around its torso, clinging like a parasite.

The feathers weren’t soft. They were silk over razors. Each quill a blade that sliced her forearms as she gripped tighter.

The daemon smelled wrong. Clean. Lilies and snow and something underneath that made her stomach turn.

Holy. It smelled holy. And she smelled like copper and sweat and the meat of her own opened gut.

Good. Let it feel what filth is.

The daemon’s wings flared. It reached back, clawed at her, but she twisted away from its grip. Shifted left when it grabbed right. Ducked under its arm when it swept overhead.

Her gut was screaming. Every movement tore something fresh. Blood running down her legs, soaking into those pristine white feathers. Staining them. Ruining them.

Don’t let go.

It spun. Tried to slam her against the wall. She pushed off at the last second, used the momentum to swing around to its front, then back again.

[Reservoir: -32,000 → -30,000]

Every impact. Every bruise. Dragging herself toward zero one collision at a time.

The daemon snarled. The first ugly sound it had made. It bucked, thrashed, golden blade swinging wild as it tried to cut her off its own body. One wing clipped her head. Stars exploded behind her eyes.

Don’t. Let. Go.

Kaito was already moving.

One step, two. The blade rose.

A terrible arc of malice in a single swing, aimed not at the monster, but directly at Mio where she clung to its chest.

He wasn’t trying to save her. He was trying to cut her in half.

The daemon didn’t flinch. It sensed no threat to itself. Only to the parasite attached to it.

It allowed the strike to come.

At the last possible second, Mio uncoiled. She kicked off the daemon’s hips, throwing her weight backward while yanking the creature forward. She fell away.

The daemon stumbled into the space she had just occupied.

Steel met divine flesh.

The blade carved through the daemon’s chest. Golden blood sprayed across the ruined classroom. Across Mio’s face, her hands, the floor beneath her.

The daemon screamed. That layered voice finally breaking into something singular. Something almost human.

It staggered. Fell to one knee. The golden blade slipped from its fingers.

Mio let go. Hit the ground. Couldn’t move anymore. Could barely breathe.

But she was smiling. Blood on her teeth, hole in her gut, and she was smiling.

Kaito stood over the daemon, his sword still buried in its chest.

His eyes found hers.

The hatred hadn’t faded.

"We’re not done," he said.

The daemon’s hand closed around Kaito’s blade.

The steel groaned. Kaito tried to pull back, but the daemon held firm. Fingers wrapped around the edge, golden blood running down its wrist, and it didn’t even flinch.

Got you.