He moved—and everything changed.
Not fast. Not sudden. Absolute.
The distance between them simply stopped existing entirely.
Yuro barely raised his guard before impact arrived.
Sujo's fist collided with his face without resistance.
The air exploded, folding inward from the sheer force.
Yuro's body tore through the dining hall violently.
Walls shattered, pillars collapsed, chandeliers snapped instantly.
He crashed through two floors without slowing down.
The Royal VIP section received him like a cannon strike.
Marble floors cracked deeply beneath his landing.
Blood splattered across polished gold-lined walls instantly.
Above, the hole remained, water swirling unnaturally.
Sujo didn't jump down.
He stepped.
And arrived.
Yuro stood slowly, wiping blood from his mouth calmly.
"…That hurt," he muttered, then smirked slightly.
Sujo closed the distance again without hesitation.
Another punch came, heavier, faster, far more precise.
Yuro twisted his stance, disbalancing the trajectory slightly.
The fist grazed past his shoulder instead of crushing him.
The wall behind him exploded completely from the redirected force.
"…Predictable force… but overwhelming output," Yuro whispered.
Sujo didn't care.
He raised his arm again, preparing another strike.
But something else moved first.
A massive anchor came crashing down from above violently.
It slammed directly onto Yuro's head with crushing force.
The impact drove him straight through the floor instantly.
He fell two entire levels, crashing into a luxury corridor.
Wood splintered, glass shattered, carpets burned under friction.
Yuro landed hard, body skidding across the polished floor.
Blood trailed behind him, marking his forced descent.
"…Anchor too…" he muttered, breathing heavier now.
"…So you use everything."
Footsteps echoed again from above, slow and inevitable.
Yuro stood, glancing around the surroundings quickly.
The Royal VIP area stretched wide with elegant design.
Golden frames, velvet curtains, expensive decor untouched by chaos.
"…Still resetting everything…" he observed under his breath.
He moved quickly, slipping behind a large wooden closet.
His breathing slowed deliberately, controlling his presence entirely.
Sujo landed moments later, the floor cracking beneath him.
He didn't rush.
He walked.
Each step carried pressure that bent the air itself.
The closet door creaked slightly under the tension.
Yuro waited.
One step closer.
Another.
Then—
Yuro burst out instantly, launching a back heel kick.
The strike connected cleanly against Sujo's jawline.
The impact echoed sharply across the entire corridor.
Yuro didn't stop.
He jumped immediately, twisting his body mid-air perfectly.
"The one with the most fired-up intent…"
His leg swung downward with crushing force.
"…is me!"
The kick slammed into Sujo's head violently.
For a brief moment—his balance shifted slightly.
That single moment was everything.
Yuro followed through, aiming to finish the motion cleanly.
But something blocked him.
A long black scimitar intercepted the strike instantly.
Metal met force, stopping the momentum completely.
Xiaolang crouched low, holding the blade steady.
His eyes remained calm, focused, completely unwavering.
"…Too direct," Xiaolang said quietly.
Yuro landed lightly, stepping back without hesitation.
"…You again," he muttered, expression sharpening slightly.
Before either could continue—
The air shifted violently once more.
Shiro appeared above, moving across broken structures silently.
Mist began spreading again, covering the entire area gradually.
Zombies flooded the corridors, now fully synchronized.
Not random. Not chaotic. Controlled.
Tank zombies broke through walls like moving fortresses.
Bomb zombies crawled unnaturally across ceilings and floors.
The entire battlefield closed in from every direction.
Yuro exhaled slowly, grip tightening around his katana.
"…So it's all of you now," he said calmly.
Sujo stepped forward again, ocean pressure rising with him.
Water surged through broken walls, bending unnaturally inward.
"…Good," Yuro whispered, grin slowly returning.
"…I was getting bored."
They moved.
All at once.
Sujo attacked head-on with overwhelming force.
Xiaolang struck from the blind side with precision.
Zombies flooded from every angle without hesitation.
Yuro stepped forward instead of retreating.
His blade moved once—clean, efficient, precise.
Three zombies fell instantly without resistance.
He shifted again, dodging a crushing strike from behind.
Tank zombie fists shattered the floor where he stood.
Yuro spun, cutting through joints instead of armor.
The massive body collapsed under its own weight instantly.
Bomb zombies detonated prematurely under mist interference.
Shiro's presence disrupted their timing subtly yet effectively.
Yuro noticed.
"…Not bad," he muttered briefly under his breath.
Sujo's fist came again—faster, heavier, unavoidable.
Yuro blocked this time, but was pushed back violently.
The pressure alone cracked the floor beneath his feet.
"…Still overwhelming…" he admitted quietly.
Xiaolang appeared instantly, slashing toward Yuro's side.
Yuro barely twisted, the blade grazing his ribs lightly.
Blood spilled, but his movement didn't slow.
"…Two against one… plus army…" he murmured.
"…Now this feels right."
The mist thickened further, swallowing visibility entirely.
Only instinct remained reliable within the battlefield.
A faint buzzing sound passed near Yuro's ear.
A housefly.
It moved freely through chaos without hesitation.
Dodging pressure, avoiding death, without thinking at all.
Yuro's eyes followed it for a brief moment.
Then something clicked.
"…So that's it," he whispered quietly.
Sujo attacked again, but Yuro didn't react normally.
He moved before the attack even formed.
His body slipped past the strike effortlessly.
For the first time—Sujo missed completely.
The air cracked violently behind him from the force.
Yuro appeared beside Xiaolang instantly.
A kick launched toward Sujo's blind angle perfectly.
It would have landed cleanly.
But Xiaolang moved faster.
He caught the kick with one hand firmly.
At the same time, his other hand moved.
The scimitar pierced straight through Yuro's chest completely.
Clean. Precise. Absolute.
Yuro's body lifted into the air slightly.
Blood dripped steadily onto the polished floor below.
"…Got me," Yuro muttered calmly, unfazed.
A small golden dragon formed from Xiaolang's left hand.
It pulsed with lethal, refined, controlled energy.
Without hesitation, he forced it into Yuro's mouth.
"…Die from inside," Xiaolang said coldly.
The dragon entered, tearing through organs invisibly.
For a moment, everything paused.
Then Yuro swallowed.
Silence.
Xiaolang's eyes widened slightly, disbelief breaking through.
"…Impossible…" he whispered slowly.
"That should have killed him instantly…"
Yuro coughed lightly, then smirked faintly.
"…Tasted bad," he replied casually.
He pulled himself off the blade using raw force.
Blood poured, yet he stood firmly without collapse.
"…Against you…" Yuro stepped forward slowly again.
"…Even someone called prodigy by others…"
He looked between Sujo and Xiaolang calmly.
"…I feel fun fighting."
The air shifted again, sharper than before.
"But let's step it up a bit."
His stance loosened completely, almost careless now.
"You adapt quickly to my strategies…"
His eyes darkened, losing unnecessary emotion entirely.
"…So I'll stop using them."
"…I, Yuro…" he raised his katana slightly.
"…declare I'll use the form I've never used."
The ocean trembled violently, reacting to his presence.
"This is my peak."
"Not thinking."
"Not planning."
"…Just killing."
He moved.