The Operator Between Worlds [ONGOING]

Chapter 6: Instincts Unleashed

Mason stood in the threshold, returning the smug expression with one of his own.

"Goodbye, dumbass."

With a sharp thwomp, the grenade launched—and the explosion that followed tore through the throne in a geyser of fire, shrapnel, and blood.

When the smoke cleared, there was no throne. No smug goblin. Just scraps of meat and shredded limbs splattered like abstract art across the back wall.

The bodyguard goblins, stunned by the sudden loss of their leader, stumbled about in a daze. Mason could have gunned them down on the spot—but a better idea crossed his mind.

A darker one.

"Masami," Mason asked calmly, eyes flicking toward the remaining enemies. "Want to show me how capable you are?"

She stepped up beside him, glancing toward the four hobgoblins still regaining their senses. "You want me to fight those?"

"Exactly. Think you can handle it? If not, then—"

"I can do it," Masami said, cutting him off with a firm nod. Her eyes locked onto the challenge ahead. "I've been through worse. This is child's play."

Her tone, her posture—that confidence felt strangely familiar. Mason squinted. Was he just imagining things?

The hobgoblins, towering over two meters tall with musclebound bodies like heavyweight brawlers, had already recovered and fixed their attention on the lone fox girl striding toward them. Compared to their hulking mass, Masami looked downright tiny. Mason knew she could handle regular goblins, but this was a step above.

Still, he raised his rifle and kept his sights ready—just in case.

One of the hobgoblins took the initiative, swinging its massive mace downward in a brutal arc. That was its first and final mistake. Rather than capitalize on their numbers, they attacked her one at a time—an opening Masami didn't waste.

In a blur of motion, she dodged the attack and lunged at the creature's throat. Unlike her earlier wide slash, her hands moved in rapid jabbing motions, fast enough to create a faint afterimage. The hobgoblin didn't realize it had been cut until blood sprayed from its neck and its body collapsed with a heavy thud.

Damn. Her speed was off the charts.

The remaining three roared in unison and charged, trying to box her in. But before they could surround her, Masami darted forward, turning offense into defense. Smart move—if she let them close in, it would've been over.

One hobgoblin threw a punch, but she twisted past it, leapt onto its arm, and vaulted toward its head. As the creature swung its mace at her midair, she dropped low and slid under the attack with feline grace. The moment she was close enough, her blade found flesh again—another fell with a wet, gurgling cry.

The last two didn't hesitate this time. They attacked together, not giving her any room to breathe. But Mason quickly noticed something: Masami stayed close—too close—to one of the hobgoblins. She was using its body as a shield, preventing the other from attacking without risking friendly fire. A textbook tactic. But what struck him more than her precision... was her expression.

She was smiling.

Not the gentle, bashful smile he'd grown used to—but a wide, feral grin. Her fangs were bared, and her eyes... no longer lavender. They had turned a deep, glowing crimson.

Her movements became wilder, more animalistic. She didn't just kill—she played with her prey, striking at joints and tendons before delivering the final blow. Her attacks were efficient, yes, but laced with something primal. Something dark. She was enjoying it.

By the time the last hobgoblin fell, Mason could hardly recognize her. She crouched over the body, stabbing again and again into its chest with the bloody dagger. Her face, outfit—everything was soaked in red. Each thrust of her blade was deeper, more frenzied than the last. The sound of metal tearing into flesh echoed grotesquely off the cave walls.

This wasn't right.

"Masami," Mason called out, concern rising in his voice. "Are you okay?"

She froze.

Heavy breathing echoed through the cave as she slowly turned toward him. For a moment, he thought she might have heard him—but then her expression twisted, and she charged.

Shit—!

She closed the distance in a blink, dagger drawn, eyes filled with killing intent. Mason didn't have time to react. The next thing he knew, she slammed into him at full force, knocking him onto his back. Pain shot through his ribs as her blade pierced through one of the empty rifle magazines stacked on his chest rig. Fortunately, the steel plate beneath stopped the blade from going any deeper.

Pinned beneath her, Mason stared up into her face.

This wasn't the Masami he knew.

There was no recognition in those crimson eyes—only bloodlust and madness. Her breathing was ragged, almost feral. She raised the knife again.

No choice.

He locked both of her arms with his own and slammed his knee into her lower abdomen—a dirty move, but he was fighting for his life. She gasped, weakening slightly, but it wasn't enough. Her strength was inhuman.

Then Mason used his head—literally.

He slammed his helmeted forehead into hers with a sickening crack.

The fox girl reeled, stumbled back in a daze, and collapsed. The knife clattered from her hand. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, but her aura had dimmed. Her eyes closed. The crimson hue faded. She was unconscious.

Mason lay there for a moment, breathless, chest heaving, staring up at the cave ceiling.

"Just who the hell are you, Masami...?"