Witnessing Tris's reaction, the man in the red cloak smiled even more cheerfully and said:
"I am Red. What's your name, kid?"
Tris: "You may call me Tom." The "Berserker" puppet displayed a very polite, cautious demeanor in its reply.
Red: "Oh, Tom, isn't it hot in there? Why don't you come out and get comfortable?"
Tris: (°ロ°)
He had carefully set up a Space magic barrier around himself to avoid detection, yet his true body was exposed so easily. The gap between them felt wider than ever.
Tris: "Thank you for your concern. I'm quite comfortable as I am. Perhaps I could be of some help to you today?"
Tris carefully tried to redirect the topic.
Red: "Of course. First, why don't you step out so I can take a closer look?"
Unfortunately, Red refused to let the matter drop, immediately steering back to his demand.
Tris: "... I'm rather shy about undressing. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
Red: "No need to be shy. Let me help."
From Red's fingertips, a thorn-covered vine appeared, crimson as though woven from fresh blood. With a flick of his hand, the vine lashed violently toward Tris.
"Flash Steps"
He swiftly used his combat technique to evade the strike.
'If words won't work, then battle is the only option.' From within the "Berserker", Tris's eyes sharpened.
Red showed no disappointment at missing his target. Instead, her interest grew.
She strolled toward Tris, swinging the vine repeatedly. Tris retreated, maintaining distance, but soon realized the gap was closing regardless.
'Why is this happening?' Tris wondered, analyzing quickly.
'His steps look leisurely, but he's also using Flash Steps. And beyond that—the problem lies in this very space.'
He glanced down at the slimy red ground beneath his feet. The "floor" itself was moving, like a conveyor belt, carrying him toward Red.
This was far worse than simply losing distance. Many of Tris's combat techniques relied on the ground beneath him. If the terrain itself obeyed the enemy's will, every step could become a deadly trap.
Once again, Tris felt the oppressive absurdity of this Domain.
To counter, he immediately used "Sky Walk", stepping into the air instead of the shifting ground.
'I can't drag this out.' Tris told himself urgently.
Constantly using "Sky Walk" consumed enormous spiritual energy. The longer it lasted, the worse his situation became.
He charged forward, swinging the massive fist of the puppet like a warhammer.
The hulking figure looked like a war chariot barreling ahead, yet Red remained calm, advancing steadily.
From all ten of Red's fingers, thorny crimson vines shot forth.
With a flourish, they whipped forward like living creatures, targeting multiple parts of the puppet—legs, arms, even the neck.
Each vine moved with uncanny precision, as if guided by its own will.
'This technique…' Tris froze for a moment.
He had seen something similar before—in a dream. The only difference was that in the dream, they were white threads, thinner than fishing line, stronger than steel.
Despite his surprise, Tris reacted instantly. The puppet raised both hands and unleashed "Devouring Hand".
The magic seized the vines, binding them tightly.
Using them as leverage, the puppet yanked hard while activating "Flash Steps", closing the distance in a sudden burst.
The puppet's head opened, revealing Tris inside.
With the black sword in hand, he thrust straight at the enemy's throat, now only inches away.
The blade gleamed dangerously, as if ready to pierce anything in its path. Or at least, that was what should have happened.
Unfortunately, the strike was blocked by a swirling vortex of blood conjured before Red.
'No, it's more than that.'Tris realized.
Countless droplets of blood floated around Red, forming layered barriers in the air.
The result: not only the sword, but Tris's entire body felt as though it were sinking into sand, unable to advance even half a step.
Seizing the moment, Red kicked Tris squarely in the chest. The impact hurled him backward, slamming into the puppet behind.
'Too strong… even with Iron Wall, my chest feels like it's exploding.' Tris grimaced.
Pain seared through him. Sweat poured, his breath ragged, coughing violently.
Before he could recover, crimson vines wrapped around him and the puppet, binding them tightly.
The "Berserker" was dragged down into the ground, which writhed like raw flesh, swallowing it whole.
Red: "Finally, we can face each other directly instead of that eyesore. Could you tell me a little about your family or your teacher?"
Tris: "I'm just an orphan from a small village. Nothing special to tell."
One thorn pierced Tris's hand, drawing blood.
Red: "Nonsense. You're not even nine years old and already this strong, yet you claim nothing special? If no one were backing you, I'd cut off my own head and play soccer with it."
The accuracy of her words made it clear—the blood extraction was one of Red's methods of analysis.
Tris: "..." He stayed silent, watching Red's reaction, calculating inwardly.
Red: "Flash Steps, then Sky Walk. That defense earlier was Iron Wall. You also used Echo to alter your voice." The cloaked figure muttered, analyzing aloud.
Red glanced down at her feet, continuing:
Red: "That sensation of being trapped earlier—it must have included multi-layered barrier magic. And that sword thrust seemed to carry Dimension Cut."
Red then looked toward the buried puppet, pausing in thought.
Red: "Tell me, boy… have you, by chance, been entangled with a heretical god?"