The masked figure stood before Baobhan Sith, head lowered and silent. An ordinary person might've been terrified, knowing this figure could slip so close without a sound—and could just as easily take their life in the same silence.
But Baobhan Sith was not easily scared. If this person had truly wanted to kill her, she would've sensed it by now.
The masked figure had come this close because they bore no hostility or intent to kill.
And for this reason, Baobhan Sith didn't strike, instead studying them with curiosity.
The figure in the white fox mask blended perfectly with the surroundings, but Baobhan Sith knew it wasn't due to some harmony with nature. Rather, the cursed energy saturating the air here was the same as the energy radiating from this figure.
It was like ink in water—a drop of black in clear liquid is obvious, but black ink in a pool of ink becomes invisible.
So, was this masked person a cursed spirit responsible for this phenomenon?
It was a reasonable assumption, yet something felt off.
If she'd fused with the essence of a clever Heroic Spirit like Sherlock Holmes, she might've figured out the anomaly immediately. But unfortunately, neither she nor Baobhan Sith was the cerebral type.
As Baobhan Sith pondered this, the masked figure suddenly turned and walked away, back facing her, toward the only exit.
The door she'd entered through had vanished the moment she set foot inside, replaced by a wooden wall that looked flimsy enough to break with a light blow.
But smashing her way through wouldn't be worth it. Whether breaking the wall would even let her escape was uncertain. And besides, her goal was to eliminate the unknown cursed spirit in this shrine. She hadn't taken on the honor of the Fairy Knight Tristan only to flee without a fight.
She wanted her mother's praise, her mother's approval.
Her mother had told her to be cruel, so she made cruelty her pleasure.
Her mother had told her to be terrifying, so she embraced agony and played the music of death.
Her mother had told her to be cold and ruthless, so she bathed in blood and walked a path paved in bones.
She was Baobhan Sith, the Fairy Knight Tristan, daughter of Queen Morgan of the Fairy Kingdom.
A feral grin spread across her face as she followed the masked figure.
"Let's see where you intend to take me."
Following the masked figure, Baobhan Sith walked down a wooden corridor.
The corridor had only railings on each side, allowing her to view the scenery outside.
The walkway stretched above a pond, and Baobhan Sith paused, captivated by the cascading waterfall and koi darting through the water.
The polished wood beneath her heels looked freshly cleaned, like someone attended to it daily. Even barefoot, it would be comfortable to walk on.
The masked figure made no complaints about her wearing heels inside. In fact, they hadn't spoken a single word.
It was as if their sole purpose was to guide her, with no concern for anything else.
Baobhan Sith wasn't sure how long they walked, but in this strange space, her sense of time seemed to slip.
"Hey! How much longer are you planning to waste my time?"
She was no saint, nor was she particularly patient.
The blood-scented aura surrounding her began to weigh heavily on the corridor, even causing the air around them to creak in protest.
Ahead, she could see a traditional Japanese-style building at the end of the walkway, yet the distance never seemed to shrink, no matter how far she walked.
This distorted space was surely the doing of the cursed spirit residing here, and she wasn't about to believe the masked figure wasn't involved—or that they couldn't control the distance between her and the destination.
Without a word, the figure seemed to sense her impatience. After less than another minute of walking, Baobhan Sith finally followed them off the corridor.
Though it had felt like a long walk, when she glanced back, she saw the room she'd first entered was actually quite close. With her physical strength, she could've easily leaped across without the corridor.
The masked figure hadn't looked back at her even once, nor spoken a single word, acting as though it didn't matter whether she followed or not. Now, it quietly opened the door and stepped aside.
Baobhan Sith arrogantly strode through the open door, utterly unconcerned whether it was a trap.
If this place was truly a domain, nearly any sorcerer's first instinct would be to find a way out or to open their own domain to counter it.
But Baobhan Sith had strolled through, taking in the sights, even following the guide toward what was obviously a trap.
As expected, the moment she stepped fully inside, the door behind her slammed shut.
It was the only visible exit.
And it seemed the masked figure hadn't followed her in.
"Did that idiot really think this would trap me?"
A quick glance around, and Baobhan Sith felt her mood drop.
"No way… After making me wait this long, this is all you've got?"
The room resembled a Japanese kendo dojo—smooth, polished wooden floors, open and spacious, with an echo that would carry any loud sound.
The click of her heels grew faster, sharper, each step's echo marking her irritation mounting.
"Fine, if you won't show yourself…"
She stomped a heel down, casting a sadistic smile toward the ceiling.
"Then I'll destroy everything in sight! Let's see how long you can hide in your turtle shell!"
Baobhan Sith was serious now. The proof? She'd taken out her six-stringed bow, a weapon designed to amplify her strikes to their fullest.
Though her own magical reserves weren't particularly vast, even requiring the enchanted tools made by Morgan to cast her spells, she had the Holy Grail's power now. Blood-red mana poured forth like liquid, churning with the fury of a tsunami, the rumble of thunder, and the rage of an erupting volcano.
Her fingers hovered over the bowstrings, ready to summon a storm of slashes to consume everything within a hundred-meter radius.
But just then, a flash of cold light appeared, aimed at her neck from behind.
Beneath her shadowed hair, Baobhan Sith's lips twisted into a bloodthirsty grin.
"Finally showing yourself, huh? Took you long enough, small fry!"