Sack’Em’Sorcerer: Itō The Angel Killer

*When the strong pick on the weak it’s considered to be nature’s universal law proving itself to be real.*

*When you’re weak, you’re vulnerable. And when you’re vulnerable, you become a target.*

*But when you’re strong…sometime that leads down a dark path of becoming a numb monster. One who has no mercy.*

*Itō considered herself to be one of the cruelest monsters…*

"You're not going anywhere, scumbags." The voice was unmistakable—sharp, authoritative, and laced with the promise of a swift end to any trouble that dared to cross her path.

Alessia Itō, known to the LA streets as "Angel Killer," stepped out from the shadows of the alleyway, her piercing red eyes scanning the scene before her.

Two burly thugs had backed a frail-looking man against a dumpster, their fists poised to rain down on his trembling form. Antonio and Vick. Meatheads. Cruel monsters staining mankind.

“Shit! It’s her vick!” Antonio’s brown eyes went wide as his stomach dropped and his heavy hangers clenched in worry.

Her outfit was a blend of urban stealth and practicality—baggy blue jeans that allowed for unrestricted movement, and a tight white long-sleeve shirt with crimson lines snaking down the arms, hugging her athletic frame. The shirt, seemingly innocuous at first glance, was tailored to showcase her ample C-cup breasts, a subtle hint of the fiery spirit that burned within her.

The crimson streaks on her sleeves matched the fiery aura that surrounded her as she walked slowly towards them. Her left hand resting on the hilt of one of her katanas.

"I suggest you walk away," she said, her voice a mix of calmness and steel, "and I won't have to make an example of you two."

The smaller of the two, Antonio, took a step back, sweat beading on his brow. But Vick, the larger and more brazen, sneered and balled his fist, "Why should we? This is our playground, not yours."

The man at the receiving end of their malice cowered, his eyes pleading for salvation. "P-please, I don't have anything," he stuttered, holding up his hands in a feeble attempt to ward them off.

Vick, the larger and crueler of the two, took a sadistic pleasure in his fear. He leaned in close, his hot breath reeking of cheap whiskey. "You should've thought of that before you stepped into our territory," he jeered, his fist flying out like a piston.

But before his knuckles could connect with the man's face, there was a flash of silver and a sudden scream. It was a sight that seemed to defy reality—Alessia's sword, *Seraph*, had whipped through the air in a graceful arc, cutting Vick's arm cleanly at the elbow. The thug's eyes rolled back in shock and sudden pain, his body convulsing in place he clutched the stump, crimson blood spurting between his trembling fingers.

“W-Wha—!” Vick’s cocky grin was abruptly wiped off his face, replaced by a twisted mask of agony. He stumbled back, his only hand reflexively reaching towards the severed arm on the ground, but Itō didn’t give him a moment to recover.

She spun on the ball of her foot and drove her heel into his parted legs to slam into his hairy nuts with the force of a sledgehammer, the crunch echoing through the alleyway.

*“MY BALLLSSS!!!”* He screamed, a high-pitched wail that seemed to shatter the very air around them, and crumpled to the ground, writhing in pain.

“Holy shit!!!” Antonio took a step back, his eyes wide with shock and fear. The aura around Itō grew brighter, the red of her eyes seeming to pulse in time with the heartbeat of the night itself.

With a swift and almost casual motion, Itō returned *Seraph* to its sheath across her back, the crimson light dimming slightly as the blade was hidden from view. But as she did so, something strange happened—Victor’s stump began to glow a faint green, the ragged end sealing over as if it had been a healed scar for years.

The severed arm however remained dead along with his broken balls.

Antonio, seeing his companion’s fate, realized that this wasn’t a typical alleyway scuffle. He fumbled in his pocket and produced a switchblade, its chrome glinting malevolently under the sickly glow of the street lights. He snapped it open with a metallic click that seemed to echo a sound that made the very air tense and heavy.

Itō gaze never wavered from Antonio’s eyes, her expression cold and unyielding. "If you value your puny testicles," she said, her voice like a serrated blade, "you'll drop the knife and leave."

Antonio’s fear was palpable, but his pride was stronger. He sneered and called her a bitch, the words leaving a foul taste in the air. He lunged forward with his switchblade, aiming for her face—the same face that had haunted his dreams since she had first started patrolling these streets.

Since he’s heard the wild insane stories.

The horrible stories of men changed forever…a ballbusting crazy witch.

“DIE!”

But she was faster, much faster.

Her hand shot out like a lightning bolt, catching Antonio’s wrist mid-air. Her grip was like a vice, unyielding and unforgiving, halting the knife just a fraction of an inch from her skin. The blade hovered there, trembling with the effort of his desperate thrust, but it was no match for her superior strength.

She stepped closer, her eyes boring into his soul, and whispered, "Call me that again and I'll make sure no one can ever call you a man again."

Antonio’s bravado crumbled under her gaze. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his thick neck. His eyes darted to Vick, still writhing in agony on the ground, and then back to Itō, searching for a way out.

But Itō wasn’t about to give him one. She tightened her grip on his wrist, twisting his arm and bringing him down to her level. He was forced to look her in the eye, and she could see the flicker of doubt in his gaze. The knife in his hand was forgotten, all his attention on the pain in his trapped limb.

Then with a swift, brutal kick to his fragile nuts, Antonio's knees buckled and he dropped to the ground, his knife clattering against the concrete. The sound of his whimpers was music to her ears, a symphony of sweet victory that resonated through the alley like a bell of justice.

He clutched at his aching orbs , his face a twisted mask of pain, and she stepped back, watching him writhe.

“Thank you Angel!” The victim took that as his cue to escape. He stumbled away, his eyes never leaving her, until he was a distant shadow disappearing into the night.

Only then did she turn her attention back to Antonio, who was now trying to crawl away on all fours.

She crouched down beside him, her voice low and dangerous. "Tell your friends to leave the innocents alone," she warned. "Or I'll be back for more than just a little chat."

Her fingers pried between his to grab his left nut outside of his jeans.

She pinched and rolled it painfully as he shuddered and kicked. “Nod if you understand.”

“I doooo!!”

“Good. Then I don’t have to break this to help you get it.” She lets his hands take his abused nad back.

As she rose to leave, a sound reached her—Vick's pained laughter, the kind that sent a dark chill up Itō's spine. It was a twisted sound, one that didn't belong in the throes of such pain, and it spoke of a mind that took pleasure in the suffering of others. She turned to face him, her eyes narrowing, and he met her gaze with a crazed grin that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

His eyes were a blinding orange and his shadow began to slither up his limp body to force him into a twisted standing stance.

"You think you can just take *us* down?" Vick's voice was a raspy hiss that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest.

The shadows coiled around his limbs and grew longer and thinner, its claws stretching out like the tentacles of a malevolent octopus. It wrapped around Vick's severed limb, the claws digging into the flesh with a sickening sound of tearing meat.

The crimson scar from *Seraph* grew brighter, pulsing in time with the shadowy appendage as it began to pull the arm back towards his body. The flesh on his stump stretched and reformed, knitting itself back into place with a speed that was almost too gruesome to watch.

“That’s not great.” Itō scrunched her nose at the forced merger.

Antonio's eyes were wide with horror as he took in the sight. He had seen a lot of things in his life, but nothing like this. The dark magic that was now coursing through Vick's body was something out of a nightmare, a power that didn't belong in their world of concrete and steel.

It was a force that could only be born in the blackest pits of hell.

“V-Vick?! What the f-fuck is happening?!”

It was a question that was left unanswered as Vick's laughter grew louder, echoing off the alley walls like a demonic choir. It was a sound that made Antonio’s blood run cold.

He knew that he had to get out of here, that he had to warn the others about what had happened to his friend.

But his legs were shaking too much to move.

“You can see that? Welcome to the unveil then,” Itō says with fake enthusiasm, “He’s a curse user. And I’m going to sever his bond with it.”

Smirking at the end It was in that moment of horror that Itō saw an opportunity.

She drew her second katana from her hip, *Leonardo*, and the alley was suddenly bathed in an eerie blue glow. The air around her crackled with energy, and the shadows grew darker as the sword's fiery aura pushed back the night.

Antonio’s eyes went wide with terror as he watched the blade burn with an otherworldly light. He had heard wild rumors annd stupid whispers of her abilities, but seeing it with his own eyes was something entirely different.

“Tell me Curse, are you hiding in his left nut or the lower hanging right one? I’m pretty sure that’s the one I felt pop first earlier. But if you make it easy for me to kill you then your host won’t have to lose both of them, how does that sound?”

The flames that danced along the edge of the blade were not of this world, and they seemed to speak of a power that could purge even the darkest of souls.

“You sorcerers are nasty flies. Always *buzzing* around where they’re not wanted. *We’ll* devour your fat tits after squeezing your soul from your body.”

It was a moment of unparalleled horror for Antonio as he realized what was happening to Vick. The bulge in his shorts grew back, the fabric stretching to contain something that was not of this world. The shadows around them grew denser, seeming to coalesce into a single, malevolent force that was now manifesting in the most primal and terrifying way.

“Hm. *Castration* it is then.”

It was in this heart-stopping moment that Itō made her move. With a swiftness that seemed to leave no sound, she sprinted towards the monstrous form that was once a man, her eyes locked on the crimson scar where *Seraph* had once cleaved.

Her legs propelled her off the ground and she soared over a dumpster, a figure of divine retribution in the grimy, neon-lit alley.

As she arced through the air, *Leonardo*’s blade of pure blue fire roared to life in her hand. The flames licked hungrily at the shadows that surrounded Vick, a stark contrast to the sickly black green aura that emanated from his twisted body.

Her target was clear—the curses most effeced areas, such as the scar where *Seraph* had once tasted his blood. As she descended, she brought the blade down in a swift, precise motion.

The shadowy fingers that had reattached themselves to Vick’s arm with a disturbing ease were no match for the purifying flame.

They sizzled and retreated as if burnt by holy fire.

But Vick was not as defenseless as he had been moments ago. With a snarl that seemed to shake the very air, he swung his newly reattached arm at her with inhuman speed. The fist, now grotesque and elongated by the curse, connected with a sound that was a cross between a wet smack and a bone-crunching impact.

It sent her flying backward, the wind knocked out of her.

Her chest took the brunt of the blow, the air leaving her lungs in a painful rush as she slammed into the alley wall. The world spun around her, stars exploding in her vision.

The impact sent a shockwave down her spine, and she felt a sharp pain in her left shoulder as it dislocated from its socket with a sickening *pop.*

Gritting her teeth, she pushed away from the wall, her right hand tightening around *Leonardo*’s hilt. The blade’s blue flames danced and crackled in the air, the light flickering over her face as she glared down at Vick.

The bastard had her leg in his iron tendril grip, his grin widening as he pulled her closer, his eyes alight with the dark power that had consumed him.

Itō’s hand shot up, swiping *Leonardo* through the shadowy tendril that connected his arm to his body. The curse shrieked as the flames sliced through the unnatural bond, the shadow retreating with a hiss like a serpent burned by a hot poker.

But it was only a temporary victory—the curse was resilient, its power not easily vanquished.

Her right leg coiled back, the muscles in her thigh tightening as she readied for a strike. It was a move she had practiced countless times, a move that had brought many a man to his knees.

With all the strength she could muster, she SLAMS her sneaker’s toe into Vick’s hanging scrotum, aiming for the very center of his malformed bulge.

*CRUNCH* The impact was explosive, the sound of crunching nuts echoing through the alley.

*”AHHHhhhHhh!!”* Vick’s high-pitched scream was like nails on a chalkboard, a shriek that pierced the air and sent the local rats scurrying.

His eyes bulged as his grip on her leg loosened, the shadows around his body retreating like a wave pulling back from the shore.

The smell of burning flesh filled the alley as the purifying fire from *Leonardo*’s blade seared the curse that had taken hold of him.

But Itō wasn’t done yet. With a fluid motion, she tossed the sword high into the night sky, the blue flames trailing after it like a fiery comet. Vick’s gaze followed it, his grin fading into a look of confusion and fear as she took advantage of his distraction.

Her left arm snapped back into place with a satisfying crack, the pain fueling her anger as she threw herself forward. Her fists curled into tight hooks, she slammed into Vick’s ribs with the force of a freight train.

Two swift jabs, one after the other, cracked against his side.

The impact was like hitting a brick wall, but she felt something give under the pressure—his ribs, she hoped.

Anticipating his counter, she ducked under the wild swing he threw, her body moving with a liquid grace that belied her bruises and scrapes. He was strong, but she was fast. And she had something he didn’t—the power of being born ball-less.

Her forearm shot up to meet his, the impact jarring but not enough to stop her. She twisted, using his momentum against him, and slammed her elbow into his throat. The sound of cartilage crunching was music to her ears.

He choked and staggered back, giving her the opening she needed.

With a fiery snarl, Itō caught and brought *Leonardo* down in a swift, two handed, diagonal arc.

The blade met with a sound that was half-sizzle, half-scream as it sliced through Vick’s enlarged testicles, the purifying flames devouring the curse that had taken hold of him.

Two large black orbs fell from the gaping wound in his shorts, hitting the ground with a wet thud. The shadows that had been coiling around his body recoiled, the curse's grip on him weakening as the dark magic was purged.

The slimey orbs bounced once before coming to rest in a puddle of shadow and blood, their malevolent energy covered them like steam.

Itō watched the scene unfold with a grim satisfaction. The curse was defeated, for now. She didn’t revel in the gore like other more twisted sorcerers, but she knew that sometimes, justice had to be served with a side of brutality.

She sheathed *Leonardo* with a practiced ease, the blue flames fading away as the sword returned to its dormant state. Vick passed out as hd toppled over, so Walking over to the twitching orbs on the ground, she felt a strange pull—a remnant of the dark power that had once inhabited them.

“I tried to give your owner a chance guys. Goodbye cursed Nuts…and I’m sorry.” With a firm step, she crushed the first one under her shoe, the shadowy essence seeping fully into the concrete.

The second followed with a similar destructive fate.

*POP*