The waveform of Ren wasn't an attack; it was a sonar pulse, a desperate, wide-area scan. Kevin was searching for one specific aura in the chaos—a beacon of rage he'd felt before, now muted. He found it, a flickering ember about two hundred meters to the east, moving away from the settlement. Mito. He was still alive, still drawing them off.
But the pulse also painted a horrifying, instantaneous map of the slaughter. He felt the dense, cold auras of the Troupe members, like black ice scattered around the dying heat of the Kurta. And he felt something else—a concentrated knot of those cold auras now shifting, pivoting towards the disruption he'd just caused. The short man's violent impact and Kevin's own blatant Ren flare had made them a new point of interest.
"Go! That way! Follow the riverbed!" Kevin shouted at Rosana, slapping the flank of her land bird. The creature, trained for urgency, shot forward into the undergrowth with a startled squawk, Rosana clinging to Pairo and the saddle. He gave the second bird a different command, sending it on a divergent path as a decoy.
He didn't mount up. He turned to face the woods where he'd sent the short man flying. The air there was already thickening with a malevolent, rising pressure. The Troupe didn't send one. They converged.
Uvogin burst through the trees first, a grinning avalanche of muscle, his Ren a physical wall of aggression. "A new toy! And he hits hard!"
From the shadows to the left, Nobunaga emerged, his sword still in its sheath, but his hand resting on the hilt, his eyes locked on Kevin's center of mass. "Precision. Not a brawler. Interesting."
Above, a figure dropped silently from the canopy—Feitan, the short man, wiping blood from his lip, his eyes glinting with cold, homicidal amusement behind his high collar. His rapier gleamed.
Kevin was surrounded. Three of them, each a master. The others were likely still mopping up or chasing Mito, but three was more than enough.
He had seconds. He drank the last Blank Meteor potion in one gulp, the surge of raw power flooding his veins, burning away fatigue. He slammed an Iron Wall potion next, feeling the hexagonal reinforcement weave into his bones and aura.
"You're not one of them," Nobunaga observed, his voice calm. "Your Nen is different. Cleaner. Why die for cattle?"
"They're people," Kevin said, his voice strained by the potions' strain. He dropped into a low stance, his own Ren hardening around him, taking on a faint, geometric sheen. "And you're carrion."
Uvogin laughed, a sound like boulders grinding. "I like this one! Mine!" He charged, a straight-line bull-rush meant to overpower and pulverize.
Kevin didn't try to match strength. He Transmuted the property of the Iron Wall—not just defense, but deflective structure. As Uvogin's fist, capable of shattering stone, connected with Kevin's crossed arms, the force didn't just meet resistance. It was redirected, shunted along the angled planes of Kevin's aura and into the ground at his feet. The earth exploded in a shower of dirt and roots, and Kevin was driven back a meter, skidding through the loam, his arms screaming in protest, but they held. He hadn't blocked it; he'd survived it.
Feitan moved in the distraction, a blur of black. His rapier didn't stab; it flickered, aiming for a dozen nerve clusters and arteries at once, a surgeon's precision turned to murder.
Kevin wasn't there. Using the momentum from Uvogin's blow, he'd let himself fall backward, executing a backwards roll that brought him, for a fraction of a second, directly under Nobunaga's guarded position. It was the last place they'd expect him to be.
Nobunaga's sword cleared its sheath with a sound like a sigh. The draw was faster than sight. The blade descended in a perfect arc meant to bisect Kevin as he rose.
Kevin didn't rise. He planted a hand, and with every ounce of the Blank Meteor's enhanced strength, he pushed not upwards, but sideways, shooting like a human bullet along the ground directly at Nobunaga's legs. At the same time, he shaped his Ren into a crude, wedged plowshare around his leading shoulder.
Nobunaga, committed to his downward cut, had to abort. He leaped back, but not before Kevin's shoulder, reinforced and shaped like a battering ram, clipped his shin. There was a crack, and Nobunaga hissed in pain, landing awkwardly.
It was a minor hit. Insignificant in the grand scheme. But he had made Nobunaga flinch. He had disrupted the rhythm of three Phantom Troupe members, if only for a moment.
He rolled to his feet, blood dripping from a shallow line Feitan had scored across his ribs. He was panting, the potions' energy already burning out, leaving a deep, aching hollow. He was out of combat potions. He had one Healing draught left. He was surrounded by three monsters, and more were coming.
But Rosana and Pairo had a lead. Mito was still drawing fire. The decoy bird was creating noise.
He looked at Uvogin's gleeful face, Feitan's cold eyes, Nobunaga's icy fury. He had no grand speech. He just smiled, a tired, bloody smirk.
"Your Leader wanted the boy's head, right?" Kevin said, spitting red onto the moss. "He's gone. And you're stuck here with me."
Then he did the only thing left. He ran. Not in a straight line, but in a frantic, weaving dash towards the densest, most treacherous part of the forest—the same direction he'd sent the decoy bird, away from the riverbed where Rosana fled. He poured the last of his Nen not into speed, but into Zetsu, trying to vanish into the landscape even as he left a blazingly obvious physical trail.
He was the rabbit now, leading the wolves on a chase. It was a race he couldn't win, only prolong. Every second he kept them chasing the wrong prey was a second for the survivors to vanish. The alchemist's final formula in this hellish laboratory was a simple one: his own life, traded for time. He ran into the deepening dark, the sounds of pursuit crashing through the trees behind him.
The land birds, driven by primal fear and the sharp whistles of their riders, tore through the mountain undergrowth with reckless speed. Kevin, riding with Pairo clutched in front of him, risked a glance back. Through the trees, he could see the monstrous form of Uvogin (Wo Jin) closing the distance with terrifying, ground-eating strides, propelled by the Leader's augmenting Nen. Behind him, the focused intent of Nobunaga and the simmering rage of Phinks were like needles pressing against his spine.
They wouldn't make it. Not at this rate. The land birds were fast, but the Troupe, enhanced, was faster over this broken ground. The mountain pass was still too far.
Mito, riding with Rosana, met Kevin's gaze. No words were needed. The grief in Mito's eyes had been forged into something harder, colder. He gave a single, sharp nod towards a fork in the game trail ahead. The left path led upwards, steeper, towards a sheer cliff face and a known dead end. The right path wound down towards thicker forest and, eventually, the hidden riverbed that was their true escape route.
It was another sacrifice play. A gambit to split the pursuit.
As they hit the fork, Mito let out a sharp, ululating cry and wrenched his land bird to the left, onto the upward, suicidal path. He flared his Ren once more, a brilliant, scarlet torch in the dim forest light. "COWARDS! YOU WANT EYES? COME AND TAKE MINE!" he roared, the challenge echoing off the stone.
The response was immediate. Uvogin, ever the blunt instrument, roared with delight and changed course, pounding after the brighter, noisier target. "YES! THAT'S THE SPIRIT!"
Nobunaga hesitated for a fraction of a second, his tactical mind assessing. The primary objective was the eyes. The woman and the boy likely had the purer traits. But leaving Uvogin to face an enraged, seemingly powerful Kurta alone was against the Troupe's unspoken code. With a curse, he veered left as well, his sword now fully drawn.
Phinks, however, didn't break stride. His eyes were locked on Kevin, Rosana, and Pairo disappearing down the right-hand path. The Leader had wanted the boy's head. That was the order. Feitan's injury was a secondary concern. He poured on more speed, his Nen coiling around his arms.
Kevin saw the split. One less, but Phinks was closing fast. The riverbed was just ahead, the sound of rushing water now audible. But Phinks would be on them before they could lose themselves in its cover.
"Rosana! The river! Don't stop!" Kevin shouted. He then did something reckless. He shoved Pairo towards Rosana on the adjacent land bird. "Take him! Go!"
As Rosana, with astonishing strength and maternal instinct, caught the sobbing boy and pulled him onto her mount, Kevin reined his own land bird to a skidding halt, spinning it around to face the oncoming threat.
Phinks slid to a stop a dozen meters away, dust settling around him. He cracked his neck, his expression one of cold fury. "Playing the hero? You just made my job easier. One less bird to chase."
Kevin dismounted, slapping the land bird's flank to send it galloping after Rosana. He stood alone on the narrow trail, the cliff face to his right, a steep drop into the roaring river gorge to his left. He was out of potions. His Nen was depleted from the scan and the fight with Feitan. All he had left was his wits, his reinforced body, and the Iron Wall transformation still clinging to his aura.
"You're not getting past me," Kevin said, his voice calm. He settled into the most fundamental stance Bisky had taught him—rooted, balanced, ready.
Phinks didn't answer with words. He answered with motion. He charged, his right arm beginning a rapid, winding motion, like coiling a spring. With each rotation, his Ren visibly intensified around his fist, compressing into a denser and denser point of catastrophic power. It was his Hatsu: Ripper Cyclotron. The more he wound it, the more devastating the punch.
Kevin didn't try to match it. He couldn't. Instead, he did the unexpected. He ran towards Phinks, not away.
Phinks, mid-wind-up, was surprised but didn't break his rhythm. He unleashed the punch early, the coiled energy erupting in a shockwave meant to disintegrate Kevin where he stood.
Kevin didn't try to block. At the last possible millisecond, he dropped, sliding on the loose gravel directly under the arc of the devastating force. The shockwave passed over him, shearing off the tops of the trees behind him with a sound like tearing metal.
Kevin's slide took him between Phinks's legs. As he passed, he didn't punch or kick. He hooked his ankle around Phinks's standing leg and yanked with all his remaining strength, enhanced by the last dregs of the Blank Meteor potion.
Phinks, off-balance from his own unleashed power and the sudden pull, stumbled. Not much. But enough. His footing on the trail's edge was compromised.
Kevin completed his slide, rolled to his feet at the cliff edge, and turned. Phinks was already recovering, turning with murder in his eyes.
"Too slow," Kevin spat. Then he did the last thing Phinks expected. He took a step back—off the cliff.
Phinks lunged forward, but he was too late. He saw Kevin fall backwards into the empty air, a faint, hexagonal shimmer the last thing visible around him before he vanished into the mist and roar of the river gorge below.
Phinks stared at the empty space, then at the raging river hundreds of feet below. No one could survive that fall. The objective was the boy and the woman. The nuisance was dealt with. He heard Uvogin's distant roar of triumph from the cliff path above—likely signaling the end of Mito.
With a final, frustrated snarl, Phinks turned and sprinted back down the trail, determined to pick up the scent of Rosana and Pairo. The chase wasn't over.
Far below, smashed against rocks and dragged by the icy, furious current, Kevin's world was a blur of pain and freezing darkness. His last conscious act was to channel the final shreds of his Nen into maintaining the Iron Wall's structural integrity, not as armor, but as a rigid exoskeleton—a crude, full-body cast to keep his skeleton from shattering completely on the stones. Then, the blackness took him. The alchemist's final act had been one of misdirection and sheer, stubborn survival. He had traded a cliff for a chance, and now the river would decide his fate.
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