The silver-haired girl suddenly sprinted uphill through the woods, her movements fluid and purposeful. Without breaking stride, she leaped high into the air, her voice echoing through the trees as she yelled, "Come out, Scratchifer!"
In response, a massive, dark Komondor-like curseling appeared out of thin air. Its long, neatly arranged fur swayed and dragged along the ground as it bounded uphill with effortless grace. The girl landed squarely on its back with an elegance that spoke of practiced ease. Hugging the bull-sized curseling tightly, she laughed, her hands eagerly scratching its dense fur.
The Werefur let out a howl of delight, its tail wagging as it carried its partner uphill. The girl grinned, her silver hair flying wildly in the wind as they ascended together.
Half an hour later, the duo reached the cliffs overlooking the Weasly Winery, Resort, and Spa—incidentally, the same spot Ace had scouted earlier this morning. But instead of stopping, the Werefur curseling surged forward, increasing its speed.
As they approached the cliff's edge, the girl whooped, still completely naked, and yelled, "Yeah, Scratchifer, you can do it!"
Without hesitation, the curseling leaped off the edge of the cliff. The girl let out an exhilarated scream as they plummeted toward the ground.
Then, something remarkable happened. The Werefur's long fur seemed to come alive, shifting as if it had a mind of its own. Strands of fur intertwined and stretched outward as the curseling spread its massive legs wide, forming a makeshift kite. The transformation allowed the pair to glide smoothly through the air, defying gravity with a mix of precision and instinct.
"Yes! You did it, Scratchifer! You did it!" the girl shouted, her voice full of excitement. She leaned forward, patting the Werefur's head affectionately, her face glowing with joy.
This trick had taken months of dangerous attempts to master—attempts that often ended with her body slamming into the ground, leaving her broken and bloodied. While the Werefur's regeneration could heal her, the pain and the visceral memory of near-death experiences were not so easily dismissed. But now, all the effort, pain, and close calls felt worth it.
Besides, she secretly loved the thrill of cheating death—it was an intoxicating rush that made her feel invincible.
Using her knowledge of wingsuit flying, she expertly guided Scratchifer, adjusting their angle to catch the wind and ride the currents toward their destination: the Weasly Winery.
Soon, the pair felt an overwhelming surge of curse energy enveloping them as they entered the cursed array surrounding the Weasly Winery. The girl didn't seem surprised—she clearly knew of the array's existence beforehand.
However, her expression quickly darkened. The inside of the cursed array was nothing like the serene, picturesque view it projected from the outside. The entire winery was ablaze, thick smoke choking the air and trapped within the array's confines.
"Cough! Cough!" The girl doubled over, hacking violently as the acrid smoke filled her lungs. She quickly buried her face in the soft, lush fur of her curseling, inhaling deeply to calm herself. Then, she shifted her focus, steadying her breathing with the breathing exercises she'd been taught by her guild to fight underwater.
Once her breathing stabilized, she cautiously lifted her head, narrowing her eyes to peer through the smoke and flames. The haze made it difficult to see, but she eventually made out the silhouettes of several curse masters encircling someone who appeared completely incapacitated.
Her heart sank as she stared harder, willing her vision to sharpen. When she finally recognized the figure in the center, her blood ran cold. It was her guild master.
Despite the distance, their eyes met. The moment he saw her, his already pained expression twisted into one of despair. His body shuddered violently as he coughed up blood, tears welling at the corners of his eyes. His lips trembled as he silently mouthed two desperate words: Run away!
But even he knew it was futile. The curse masters surrounding him hadn't reacted to her presence, but it wasn't because they hadn't noticed her—it was because they didn't see her as a threat.
For reasons he couldn't fathom, the local C.I.B. branch had suddenly raided the Weasly Winery. He had no idea how they'd discovered their operations there, but that hardly mattered now. Worse still, all the Sky-Tier curse masters from the local C.I.B. branch had shown up together. They'd annihilated the entire guild before he even had time to react and had cornered him.
If he hadn't possessed the critical information they needed, he would've been killed long ago. And maybe that would've been better. But in a desperate bid to save himself, he'd tried to bargain with that information. Now, with no hope left, he realized he'd only prolonged his suffering.
"Father!" a familiar voice rang out, cutting through the chaos.
She rode in on her Werefur curseling, which dived swiftly toward his location. The moment they arrived, she leaped from the curseling's back with practiced ease, landing right beside him. Her curseling quickly wrapped itself around her naked body like a massive, living fur coat.
She spun on her heel to face the curse masters, her body tense, eyes blazing with defiance. Standing protectively in front of her father, she shouted, "Who the fuck dared to hurt my father?" Her voice was fierce, commanding—like that of an avenging goddess ready to bring the heavens down.
Before she could escalate things further, her father, recognizing the dangerous glint in her eyes, grabbed her and pulled her into a tight embrace. "Don't, Sonia," he murmured, his voice shaking as he fought back tears. He knew her too well—if he didn't stop her now, she'd throw herself into a battle she couldn't win, fighting all the curse masters present until her very last breath. She believed she was unkillable but he knew there were many things worse than death in this world.
From a distance, Crimson Eyes, the youngest of the C.I.B. squad, narrowed his gaze at the girl. "Who is she?" he asked, his tone calm but laced with curiosity.
"Sonia Everhart," replied EAD Matthews, the middle-aged female curse master beside him. Her brow furrowed as she studied the girl and her curseling closely. "His daughter," she added, her voice carrying a hint of puzzlement.
Matthews's eyes narrowed further as she noticed something strange. Neither Sonia nor her curseling possessed a curse core.
"She's got a peculiar innate curse art," Crimson Eyes remarked his tone a mix of curiosity and disdain. His piercing gaze analyzed Sonia and her curseling partner. "Each cell in her body functions like a curse core. But right now, it seems she and that curseling of hers are only using one of them—or rather, they're only capable of using one. What a waste of a powerful innate curse art." He sighed, shaking his head as if lamenting squandered potential.
The air grew heavier with tension as one of the older curse masters stepped forward, his voice dripping with menace. "Let's kill the spawn before she figures out how to use all those cells and comes back for revenge."
Sonia, standing her ground, glared at them with unflinching defiance, her fists clenched at her sides. The curseling at her shoulder rumbled low, its fur bristling in response to its partner's tension. She could feel the threat in the air and knew these people wouldn't hesitate to act.
Her father's grip tightened on her shoulder, a silent plea for her to stay calm. But Sonia's jaw tightened, and her eyes burned with fury as she whispered under her breath, "Let them try."