Brush D. Rush's heart slammed in his chest. His eyes widened as he saw them move — not as friends, not as comrades, but as weapons. Hikaru, Daji, and Jaki Onna, each radiating a chilling aura of control, stepped forward in perfect unison, their gazes empty, their movements deadly precise.
"No… this can't be happening," Brush muttered, his fists glowing with Destruction Fist energy. "They… they're under him… Blackmail…"
Before he could react, Hikaru's katana blazed in runes, slicing a shockwave across the ground. Brush barely teleported aside, the force of her swing sending rubble flying. He could see the faint flicker of her true self — the brief hesitation in her stance, the way her eyes almost betrayed recognition. But it was gone in an instant. The control was absolute.
Daji's tails whipped like whips, each strike precise and lethal, aimed to pin him down. Brush raised his arms, probability manipulation flickering across his vision, dodging impossible odds. Every strike should have hit him. Every strike should have killed him. Yet he survived.
And then Jaki Onna… she lunged forward, fists glowing with drunken chaotic energy. Normally her attacks were playful, unpredictable—but now, every punch was calculated, meant to dismantle him completely. Her laugh, warped and hollow, echoed in the battlefield. Brush's stomach twisted.
"Friends… don't… fight me…" he choked out, firing off a Destruction Fist that carved through the air, narrowly missing Jaki Onna as she pivoted with inhuman speed.
The battlefield was a storm of blades, tails, and fists, all coordinated with terrifying precision. Brush teleported, dodged, countered — every move a desperate dance to survive without harming those he loved. His gacha summons hovered around him, hesitant, sensing the conflict but unsure if they should intervene.
Blackmail's influence was clear: he wasn't just controlling their bodies. He was erasing the subtle cues of friendship, trust, and loyalty, replacing them with cold efficiency. Brush's probability manipulation shook against the unseen chains of control, fighting to reclaim even the tiniest fragments of their wills.
A flash of red from Hikaru's katana slashed past him. He caught it on his arm, sparks flying. The pain was searing, but even as his adrenaline spiked, he saw it: a single blink, a momentary hesitation. The smallest crack in the control.
Daji's attack came next, and Brush's fists collided with her tails in a blur of force. He gritted his teeth. He couldn't give up. He wouldn't. Even if they were under Blackmail, their souls, their hearts, were still fighting somewhere inside.
Jaki Onna's next punch dissolved a nearby stone column, scattering debris like shrapnel. Brush rolled, narrowly avoiding the strike, and for a split second, he imagined her normal, carefree grin. That memory burned in him. That memory was a lifeline.
"I won't let him win!" Brush roared, summoning the first sparks of Ultimate Power. His aura expanded, pushing the mind-control pressure outward. The ground quaked beneath him, probability rippling through the battlefield. Even Blackmail's hold felt the strain, the invisible chains shaking under Brush's resolve.
But the fight wasn't over. The three closest people to him still advanced, their strikes faster, more precise, more dangerous than anything he'd ever faced. Every dodge, every counter, was a gamble — one misstep could destroy his friends, or worse, end him.
Brush clenched his fists. His determination, his sheer will, burned brighter than any enemy's control. He would fight. He would endure. He would break them free, no matter how impossible it seemed.
And deep down, he felt it — the faintest pulse of hope. The tiniest spark that Hikaru, Daji, and Jaki Onna were still in there. That spark was enough to keep him moving.
Because even against mind-controlled allies, the Chosen One never gives up.