As he ran, only one thought crossed Izumi's mind.
"Hold on."
He repeated the words to himself until they lost meaning—until they echoed on their own, without thought.
He had left the child in a cave near the village and was now rushing back as fast as he could. Even so, an unbearable weight pressed down on his shoulders.
"Is this the fastest you can go?" a voice echoed through the silence. "It's quite disappointing."
He didn't stop—but his body instinctively slowed, bracing for danger.
Behind him, a floating black silhouette began to take shape. Even then, it remained nothing more than a shadow.
"When will you stop weighing yourself down?" the voice continued. "You're capable of much more. So stop dragging yourself down… and start actually running."
His hand moved to the hilt of his sword. A faint red spark flickered, and the intent in his eyes sharpened.
He pushed forward.
Faster.
Until he reached his limit.
---
Sparks flew through the air as Yuriko defended against yet another lash from Kenji. His attacks were relentless—never-ending.
The taste of blood left a sour sting in her mouth, but she pressed on.
After defending against an incoming strike, she seized the opportunity to close the distance between them. The surrounding air hummed.
She went in for a strike, but just as he had done several times before, Kenji moved back, trying to get out of her range—
a mistake that would cost him.
Even as he stepped out of reach, he felt a sharp force graze his throat. The cut was shallow, but effective.
Yuriko jumped back, readying herself for her next attack, the air humming as it had before.
In a low tone, she called out a single phrase between controlled breaths.
"Wind Style: Gale Edge."
Kenji clutched his throat in shock, trying to slow the thin stream of blood from the wound.
His reaction was all she needed. Now she knew she could topple this giant. All that remained was making it happen.
He realized it too. If he was going to win, he had to stop underestimating her—and take the initiative.
He moved first.
A flurry of lashes came crashing toward her one after another, too fast to counter them all.
Her robe shredded. Blood spilled from fresh wounds.
In a desperate move, she caught the searing whip mid-strike and yanked it with all her strength, jerking him forward.
At the same time, she lunged—her blade aimed straight at him.
The strike landed. Steel pierced through his shoulder.
But her expression didn't change.
In that instant, Kenji made a split-second decision, shifting his body just enough to divert the blade away from its intended target—his chest.
The danger wasn't over.
At close range, she held the advantage—and he knew it.
She moved to strike again. Her grip faltered from the burn on her palm, but she still managed to swing toward his other shoulder—
—or so she thought.
Clank.
The sound snapped her out of focus. For a single instant, her guard dropped.
That was all he needed.
His fist slammed into her gut.
The impact sent her flying, blood spilling from her mouth as the world spun around her.
Her vision blurred. Direction vanished.
She braced for impact—
—but it never came.
Instead of crashing into the nearby houses, she was caught mid-fall.
Izumi.
He had arrived just in time.
She coughed, blood spilling from her lips, but she wiped it away and forced herself back to her feet.
"You good?" Izumi asked as they faced Kenji once more.
"What does it look like?" she shot back. "At least I didn't die."
"Yeah… I guess I can congratulate you for that," he said.
"Shut up and focus," she snapped, her tone sharp. "He's going to strike again any minute."
"We'll beat him for sure this time," he said, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Because now it's the two of us."
She smirked.
"He won't know what hit him."
---
Pulsing energy sprang forth from the blood that oozed from his hands.
That same energy took the shape of two glowing crimson rods in his grip.
"Blood Manipulation: Withering Embrace."
That was all he said before easing into a fighting stance.
Miyuki took uneasy breaths, her lower lip trembling—subtle, almost invisible, but she felt it. She tried to steady herself, but to no avail.
Takae's gaze remained locked onto his as she studied him. Every breath he took seemed deliberate, as if part of a carefully crafted scheme.
But she resolved to unravel it before it could come to fruition.
He dashed at them, eyes tracking their every movement. He didn't give them time to think—he simply struck.
They reacted instantly, parrying his dual-sided attack. His rods struck with a sharp clang before rebounding away.
They leapt back in unison—
—and a septa-circle appeared at his feet, large and intricate.
It was Miyuki.
With her right palm pressed over her left hand gripping her sword, she called out:
"Tower Series, Number 13: Aegis Shell."
Four large yellow spikes erupted from the ground, surrounding him.
From their tips, glowing yellow bindings shot forward, wrapping around him before he could react.
Despite this, his expression didn't change.
With little effort, he tore through the bindings and lunged at Miyuki—but they snapped back, restraining him once more and dragging him away from her.
He broke free again.
And again.
The result didn't change.
So he changed his approach.
In a single motion, he shattered the spikes themselves.
The spell collapsed.
But he had no time to capitalize.
He jerked forward just in time to dodge a slash from Takae aimed at his back.
He turned instantly, swinging one of his rods at her—but she blocked it with her blade. Still, he pressed forward, forcing her back with sheer strength.
Takae managed to push him off—
—but not before the rod struck the back of her left hand.
She jumped back, sweat forming along her brow.
She tried to reset her stance—
—but something was wrong.
A strange sensation spread through her hand.
Pain.
Heat.
She glanced down.
At the point of impact, a dark bruise had already begun to form—but it wasn't stopping there. A black substance seeped into her skin, creeping deeper into the flesh.
Without hesitation, she tore a strip from her sleeve and wrapped it tightly around her wrist.
It was the right call.
She watched as the substance continued to spread—her skin shifting into a sickly hue.
"Is it already taking effect?" Takeru noted calmly. "It kind of takes the suspense out of it."
"How's the smell?" he added, a faint smirk forming.
Back on guard, Takae asked cautiously,
"What are you talking about?"
He tilted his head slightly.
"Oh, you don't need me to figure that out."
She gritted her teeth as the color of her hand deepened into a sickly green.
He said nothing more.
Instead, he lowered the tips of his rods to the ground.
Where they touched, the earth turned brown—
—and began to decay.
A foul stench of rot spread through the air.
He lifted one rod and pointed it at her.
"If you're so curious—"
His smirk widened.
"Then come and find out."