I Am The Strongest Ghost Hunter

Chapter 19

Sakura saw it.

Her face flushed crimson—veins bulging across her neck and forehead like cords about to snap. Her breathing turned ragged, animal.

“It’s all because of YOU!” she screamed.

She charged.

Grabbed the woman by the throat.

Slammed her into the ground—hard enough to crack tile.

Then she started punching—fists flying, over and over, caving the face in with wet, meaty thuds.

The woman tried to stab—Sakura blocked without looking, kicking the scissors away in one brutal motion.

The woman screamed—high, broken—as Sakura kept going. Punching. Smacking. Beating her skull into pulp. Blood splattered across Sakura’s clothes, her face, her hair—dark red streaks on pale skin.

She didn’t care.

All she repeated, voice sweet and shattered:

“You hurt the ones I love the most. You have to pay.”

Punch.

“You have to pay.”

Punch.

“You have to pay.”

Until the woman’s once-pretty face was unrecognizable—swollen, pulped, ruined beyond anything human.

Then the mutilated face shifted—fear twisting into a sick, trembling smile.

Sakura didn’t hesitate.

She snatched the fallen scissors.

Stabbed them straight into the forehead—deep, final.

The woman convulsed once.

Then melted—wet ink pouring out, pooling black on the floor, dissolving into nothing.

Akito rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside Raito, hands pressing hard against the chest wound where blood bubbled up dark and fast.

Sakura kicked his arm away—hard—tears streaming down her face.

“No!” she cried, voice breaking. “It’s all my fault! It’s all my fault!”

She rocked back and forth, hands hovering uselessly over Raito, too scared to touch him, convinced pressure would only hurt him more.

“Please don’t die,” she sobbed, words tumbling out in a frantic whisper. “Not now. Not yet. We still have time… we still have time to get to know each other… to be families… to have kids together…”

Akito froze mid-motion, eyes wide.

“Wait—what? Kids?”

He shoved her back—gentle but firm.

“He’s going to die if we don’t stop the bleeding!” he snapped, panic cracking his voice.

Sakura blinked through tears, suddenly small and lost.

“How…?” she whispered. “What should I do?”

Akito swallowed hard, hands shaking.

“I’ll tie off the wound. Then we find the stairs to the next floor. But I need something to—”

A sharp tearing sound cut him off.

Sakura had ripped half her skirt clean off—no hesitation, no second thought.

She thrust the fabric at him, voice trembling but steady.

“Use this.”

Akito stared for half a second—then took it, nodding fast.

He used the torn fabric to wrap Raito’s chest wound tight, knotting it hard enough to slow the bleeding. Blood still seeped through, dark and sticky, but it was the best they could do.

He hooked Raito’s arm over his shoulder and hauled him up, staggering under the weight.

Sakura paused at the doorway—then reached back, snatched a golf club from one of the shelves. She jumped ahead, leading the way, grip white-knuckled on the club.

They stumbled into a long passage that opened into a wide hall.

At the far end stood the giant man—head dangling loose around his boneless neck, swinging like a pendulum. The moment he saw them, he charged—slow at first, then faster, massive feet thundering.

“Run!” Sakura’s voice cracked out—no longer soft, no longer timid. Authoritative. Commanding. “Don’t let Raito get a single scratch!”

She charged straight toward the monster.

“I won’t let you get him!” she yelled, golf club raised high.

Akito turned his back, staggering forward with Raito draped over him, legs shaking, trying to run.

He fell.

Hard.

He twisted, looking back—just in time to see Sakura go to work.

The creature swiped its massive hand—aiming to smash her into the wall.

She slid under it, low and graceful, like she’d been born moving like that.

The golf club swung in a perfect arc—cracked against its ankle with a sickening crunch. The foot dislocated, leg buckling sideways.

The creature let out a loud, wet squeal—head lolling wildly—and dropped lower on one side.

It swung its dangling head like a wrecking ball.

It crashed into Sakura—sent her hurtling through the passage, body tumbling across the floor.

The creature rose again—walking on its ruined leg like the pain didn’t exist—heading straight for her, ready to finish the job.

“Hey, dangling!” Akito shouted, voice raw, desperate. “Come get me, you freak!”

It stopped.

Turned.

Head swinging loose.

It started toward Akito—painfully slow, but every step felt like it closed the distance in a heartbeat.

Akito struggled to pull Raito along—no strength left. He collapsed again, back against the wall, Raito limp beside him.

The creature loomed.

“You called me,” it rumbled, voice deep and wet, head dangling inches from Akito’s face.

Akito turned away, gagging at the smell—rotting meat and something worse.

He closed his eyes.

“At least… I’ll die knowing I had friends.”

The creature raised its massive hand.

Brought it down—crashing speed.

And then…

“I told you,” Sakura’s voice roared from behind the creature, raw and furious, “do NOT lay your filthy hands on my Raitoooo!”

She charged—golf club swinging like a war axe—aimed dead at its knee.

CRACK.

The leg dislocated completely—bone popping free with a sickening snap.

The creature’s aim shattered—its massive hand slammed the floor inches from Akito and Raito, cratering tile and sending them flying backward in a spray of debris and dust.

Sakura didn’t pause.

She swung again.

And again.

And again.

Dislocating arms. Legs. Until the once-giant thing was barely her height—broken, twisted, ruined.

With one final, graceful swing, she smashed its dangling skull.

It convulsed once—head lolling loose—then melted into inky sap, pooling black on the floor, dissolving into nothing.

Sakura turned, breathing hard, blood-streaked and wild-eyed.

She ran to them—helped Akito haul Raito up.

They staggered forward—into the hallway ahead.

Inside: children.

Not normal children.

Glassy children—translucent, fragile, every movement making sharp cracking sounds, shards falling like broken tears.

“Awwn,” Sakura whispered, eyes lighting up despite everything. “They’re so cute.”

Akito’s voice cracked. “Yeah… but we don’t have time. Raito’s dying.”

“Yeah,” Sakura said softly. “Let’s go.”

But before they could move—

One small glassy baby waddled forward.

Its delicate hand touched Sakura’s leg.

Her eyes sparkled—pure joy.

She scooped it up. “It’s just so cute—”

The baby’s hand sharpened—needle-like.

It slashed across her cheek.

Sakura yelped—flung it away.

It shattered on impact—glass exploding into glittering shards.

The cut wasn’t deep.

But the other glassy children saw.

Their features turned sharp—edges gleaming like blades.

They charged—jumping over each other, climbing, reaching.

Sakura swung the golf club—smashing them aside, clearing a path to the door ahead.

Akito followed, Raito limp on his back.

One grabbed Akito’s leg—he stomped its hand—shattered it—and kept running.

They reached the door.

Glassy children still chasing—cracking, squealing.

They threw it open.

Stairs.

Upward.

They charged across the line—back to the real world.