Reincarnated in a depressing erotic world but living a normal life (right?)

The Child and the Crimson Scourge



The Child and the Crimson Scourge

The world had become too large, or he had become too small.(¡¡¡KRA-TAK-TAK-TAK-TAK-TAK!!!)

However, there was no time to think; the nightmare of crimson chitin gave him no reprieve to process his surroundings.

(¡¡BOOOOM!!)

The giant centipede moved with spasmodic violence, its hundreds of legs striking the ground like pistons in a war machine.

(¡¡¡KRA-TAK-TAK-TAK-TAK-TAK-TAK-TAK!!!)

The sound was a constant metallic roar that made even Shija’s teeth vibrate.

(Something is wrong...)

Despite the threat of the creature lunging headfirst with jaws open like a rusted trap...

(Something is very wrong!)

Shija’s thoughts were scattered elsewhere, distracted by the echo of the white room.

(¡¡¡SHHH-ING!!!)

That distraction allowed one of the monster's front legs, sharp as a scythe blade, to pass millimeters from his face, grazing his cheek and leaving a trail of burning heat.

(¡¡VROOOOOOOOOM!!)

As a result, the impact of the leg against the stone caused the ground to crack, sending rock fragments flying like shrapnel against his body.

(Why does it hurt so much? Why do my arms look so... short?)

Despite this, Shija kept his cool and tried to spring forward for a counterattack, but his body did not respond with its usual power.

(I feel... weaker...)

He felt heavy, clumsy, as if he were operating machinery that didn't fit his commands.

(¡¡¡CRASH!!!)

While dodging a second strike intended to crush him, he noticed with horror that the distance he covered with each jump was ridiculously short.

(Did I shrink?)

His strength had evaporated, and his center of gravity felt strangely low, causing a growing sense of confusion.

(¡¡¡SKREEEEEEEE-CHHHH!!!)

Seizing the opportunity of its enemy's disorientation, the centipede's segmented body smashed into a nearby column, pulverizing it completely.

(No... this is different!)

His hands were small, his fingers slender and without the calluses of training; his clothes were too large, dragging across the floor.

(Why couldn't I move further away? My body... feels heavy, yet... too light at the same time.)

The thought crossed his mind just as he felt the rush of cold air from one of the legs passing by his face again.

(¡¡¡SNAP-CRUNCH!!!)

The centipede charged once more, striking the ground with its massive jaws, while Shija rolled desperately across the floor to evade the attack.

(What...? It can't be...)

It was then that he looked down, and real terror began to supplant his combat instinct.

"How is this possible?!"

His hands were not the hardened, strong hands he remembered. They were small, with short fingers and soft, almost translucent skin. His sleeves, once tight, now hung like empty robes, bunching up around his wrists.

(¡¡¡CRASH!!!)

But there was no time to hesitate...

"¡¿?!"

As he dodged a new axe-like strike that pulverized the ground where he had stood a second before, Shija noticed his vision was much closer to the ground than it should be. The stones, the debris, even the base of the columns... everything had become gigantic. His legs, short and thin, struggled to cover a distance he would have crossed in a single step before.

(There’s no doubt!)

Reality imposed itself in a brutal image: in the center of that coliseum of ruins, under the shadow of a predator that now seemed miles long, there was no warrior.

(I’ve returned... I’m a child again...)

There stood a small figure of infantile proportions, trapped in clothes three sizes too big. In that instant, Shija reached an improbable and terrifying conclusion.

(¡¡¡SKREEEEEEEE-CHHHH!!!)

However, the centipede gave him no truce to assimilate his new height. Following Shija's revelation, the creature threw its head back and emitted a roar that wasn't biological, but a sonic screech that made the very air vibrate as it prepared to charge.

(¡¡¡VVVVVRRRRRR!!!)

With a burst of speed, the monster charged.

"¡¡!!"

In response, Shija, acting on pure instinct refined in a thousand battles, threw his body backward in a series of desperate somersaults. It was an improvised evasive maneuver, using his small hands to push off in a frantic rhythm, while the centipede's mass lunged to impact the spot where he had been a second before.

(¡¡¡BOOM!!!)

The impact not only pulverized the stone but generated an invisible shockwave that struck Shija's small body in mid-air, sending him flying.

"Gah...!"

Finally, he was thrown like a rag doll, flying several meters until he crashed violently against a pile of nearby debris.

(¡¡¡CRASH-THUD!!!)

Immediately, without time to process the pain coursing through his astral form, Shija pulled himself up among the stones, feeling the impact in every fiber of his being.

(I need my sword!)

His lungs burned; every inhalation felt like swallowing shards of glass. He tried to extend his hand, searching for the familiar weight of his weapon.

(Dammit... the link is blocked... interference...)

Unfortunately, nothing happened. There was no flash of light, no vibration of metal responding to his call. Shija felt a sort of mental "static," a cold and technical interference blocking the connection to his sword, as if "something" or "someone" had cut the cable that bound him to his power.

(What can I do?!)

He was alone, in a child's body that hadn't yet recovered from the constant trauma it kept receiving, and without tools to defend himself.

(I have no strength, no reach... and my lungs can't keep up the pace...)

He remained motionless, crouched among the ruins. A few meters in front of him, the giant centipede had ceased its frantic attack for a moment.

(KRA-TAK-TAK-TAK-TAK-TAK-TAK-TAK...)

The creature reared up, with half of its segmented body lifted off the ground, watching him with an icy hostility. Its multiple black eyes were fixed on the boy, analyzing his weakness, waiting for the exact moment to finish what it had started.

(No sword... no strength...)

The silence became a suffocating weight while Shija, crouched among the debris, felt the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He dug his fingers into the dust as his thoughts flew at a frantic speed, searching for a way out.

(But there is still a path!)

In the midst of desperation, the image of Yumemaru crossed his mind like lightning.

(He showed me how to do it!)

He remembered how the man who originated his style did not depend solely on steel; how he was able to convert the movement of his own body into a cutting blade, projecting force through his limbs as if they were invisible edges.

(I must base myself on that technique... Because now... it is my only chance.)

It was his only option: to emulate Yumemaru’s technique to fight weaponless, attempting to channel the essence of the founder into his own infantile body.

(¡¡¡SKREEEEEEEE-CHHHH!!!)

In turn, in front of him, the centipede began to twist its body spasmodically.

(It’s preparing...)

It wasn't a natural movement; it was a creaking of plates readjusting, building up a deadly tension.

(I have to take the risk... it’s this or die like an insect.)

In response, Shija lowered his center of gravity even further, opening his hands and relaxing his shoulders despite the fire consuming his lungs.

(Now... concentrate... let every gram of weight be a cut...)

His gaze turned icy, concentrating every ounce of his will into his palms. He waited for the exact moment death would lunge at him, reaching for a sword that didn't exist to become the edge himself.

(¡¡¡SKREEEEEEEE-CHHHH~!!!)

The centipede roared. From the joints of its crimson armor, dozens of black, fibrous tentacles suddenly sprouted; appendages covered in a dark mucus that pulsed with a frantic rhythm.

"What...?!"

Next, before Shija’s shocked whisper, the whips lashed through the air, striking the ground with a force that sent sparks flying from the stone. The monster was no longer just a shielded mass; it had become a heap of shadowy lashes.

(¡¡¡WHIP!!!)

Immediately, as the first tentacle shot toward his throat with the speed of a projectile, Shija reacted.

"¡¡!!"

His small body rotated on its axis in a fluid motion, feeling the cutting air of the appendage grazing his skin.

(¡¡¡WHIP-CRACK!!!)

The impact echoed against the ground, opening a crack in the rock right where he had been.

"Ugh!!"

Seizing the opportunity, Shija moved. He began to zigzag through the rain of tentacles falling from all directions, seeking the exact angle to apply the technique, while the centipede closed the distance with renewed ferocity, surrounding him with its vibrating members.

(¡¡¡WHIP-CRACK... WHIP-CRACK!!!)

The fibrous tentacles launched from the monster's carapace in curved trajectories, lashing the ground with such violence they raised clouds of dust and stone shards with every impact.

"¡¡¿?!!"

In response, Shija, despite his burning lungs, began to move. Not with explosive speed, but with a calculated agility, the fruit of hours of training against Silver.

(I know how versatile a reduced form can be!)

He remembered how, against an opponent of greater size and reach, every inch of ground had to be used to one's advantage.

(¡¡¡THUD... SHHH-ING!!!)

When a tentacle sought his chest like a dart, Shija used a piece of a ruined column as a pivot. He braced his small hand against the stone and, using his own reduced weight to gain inertia, propelled himself in a side spin.

(¡¡¡KRA-TAK-TAK-TAK-TAK!!!)

The action caused the tentacle to sink into the column, pulverizing it, but Shija was already in the air, passing beneath the segmented mass of the centipede.

(¡¡¡SKREEEEEEEE~!!!)

The monster reacted with explosive fury, twisting its miles-long body in a tight arc.

(¡¡¡SCREE-CHHH!!!)

Its lateral legs, sharp as razors, swept the ground in a circular attack.

(Faster... I have to be more fluid... size is an advantage if I know where not to be...)

However, Shija did not falter. Upon landing, he rolled under an overhang of debris, reading the energy flow of the "monster" before his eyes as he prepared for the final blow.

(¡¡¡SNAP-CRASH!!!)

Counterattacking, the centipede threw its main mass in a direct tackle, trying to crush him against a wall of the shattered "home." Shija evaded it vertically by running up an inclined wall, defying gravity for a second before launching into a backflip just as the black tentacles tried to surround him like a fishing net.

(CONCENTRATE!!)

Finally, landing on a fallen pillar, Shija kept his center of gravity low and his hands open, channeling the energy coursing through his being.

(Compress it...)

Shija began to compress the energetic flow running through his astral form, forcing the Ki to concentrate in his palms.

(Flow... faster...)

He didn't let it expand; instead, he molded it through high-frequency perception, making the energy vibrate until it became as thin and sharp as a razor blade.

(Sharper!)

The secret lay in "inertia projection": by moving his arms, he wasn't throwing a physical blow, but releasing the accumulated tension of the Ki, allowing the energy to cut the very air before dissipating.

(NOW!!)

With a cross-motion of his hands, Shija released the pressure.

(¡¡¡SHHH-KLING!!!)

Unleashing an arc of distorted energy, almost invisible to the naked eye, it sliced through the space between him and the beast.

(¡¡¡CRACK-SPARK!!!)

Although it was an imperfect and much weaker version of the original technique, the impact was real. The cut struck directly into the crimson carapace, just above the monster's jaws.

(I did it...)

It didn't manage to split the monster in half, but the force was enough to splinter the chitin and force the enormous segmented mass to recoil several meters, leaving a trail of sparks and dark fluid on the ground.

(It's imperfect, it's weak... but I can hurt it. I can still fight.)

His fighting spirit, which had wavered before his body's regression, reignited like a bonfire.

(¡¡¡SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!)

However, the victory was short-lived. A shriek of fury, more high-pitched and piercing than the previous ones, resonated throughout the ruins, making the debris vibrate.

{BASTARD!!}

But what froze Shija's blood was not the noise, but what came after. From the depths of the centipede's throat, a voice—distorted yet unmistakably human—emerged amidst a viscous gurgling.


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