"Did they manage to get away?" Izumi thought as he glanced back.
There was no one in sight.
He let out a quiet sigh of relief before turning forward again—to where Kenji stood.
The man's presence weighed heavily on him, enough to make his hands tremble slightly. Still, Izumi pushed the feeling aside, tightening his grip on his sword as he took a slow, steady breath.
Beside him, Yuriko stood firm.
Unlike their first encounter three months ago, she felt far less shaken. A strange sense of reassurance settled within her—as if she wasn't fighting alone.
"You still insist on stopping me," Kenji said, his gaze sharp. "It's not too late to back down."
Yuriko swallowed, forcing a smile. "You think you can intimidate us? You're the one who should be thinking about backing down."
"Have it your way," he replied.
Reaching into his robe, he pulled out what looked like a simple handle.
Both Izumi and Yuriko tightened their stances.
Kenji held the handle in his left hand as blood began seeping from his wrist, gathering into a pulsing mass of energy. The crimson liquid twisted and condensed, forming a long whip of scarlet light.
As he stared them down, he spoke:
"Blood Manipulation: Bloodlash."
Without hesitation, Yuriko lunged forward, aiming an upward strike.
Kenji dodged smoothly and lashed the whip toward her. It tore through part of her sleeve before crashing into the ground, sending debris flying.
She didn't flinch.
Instead, she pressed forward again—faster.
Noticing the pattern in her attacks, Kenji relaxed slightly.
That was his mistake.
Izumi was already above him.
His blade pointed straight down as he descended.
"Earth Style: Crashing Cleaver!"
With no other option, Kenji leapt back, barely avoiding the strike as Izumi's blade slammed into the ground, forming a crater and scattering rocks in all directions.
Before he could recover, Yuriko closed in from behind.
Kenji whipped around, lashing out again—but this time, she deflected it.
Wind gathered along her blade, spiraling as she drove forward.
"Wind Style: Gale Thrust!"
The attack struck cleanly.
Kenji crossed his arms over his chest, blood hardening over his skin to absorb the impact. Though it prevented serious injury, the force sent him skidding backward across the ground.
But distance favored him.
Now with space between them, his weapon could reach its full potential.
Izumi and Yuriko realized it immediately and rushed forward to close the gap—
Too late.
Kenji's whip shot out again.
It wrapped around Izumi's body, tightening instantly.
With a violent pull, Kenji hurled him into a nearby house, sending him crashing through the roof.
Yuriko barely had time to react before the whip struck again—its length extending unnaturally as it slammed her into the wooden wall of another structure.
---
Elsewhere—
Ichiro and Ryuji circled each other in silence, their movements measured, their eyes locked.
Neither rushed.
Both waited.
Then Ryuji made the first move.
Blood spikes shot toward Ichiro in rapid succession.
Ichiro dodged effortlessly.
Again and again, the attacks came—but none found their mark.
The pattern was obvious.
Pointless.
And yet—
Ryuji kept going, each strike thrown with the same intent as the first.
Then suddenly—
He stopped.
"…Why does it feel like I've attacked so many times…" he thought, unease creeping in, "…but I can't remember when?"
His eyes narrowed.
"Is this his doing?"
"Are you forgetting something?" Ichiro asked, his tone almost mocking.
Ryuji grinned.
"Whatever the hell you're doing," he said, "don't think it'll change the outcome of this fight."
"Of course it won't," Ichiro replied calmly.
"It's just like you said…"
"The outcome was decided from the start."
With a vein popping out on his forehead, he lunged at him with a claw attack—but what should have been a perfectly timed strike fell short, as he had miscalculated the distance, attacking before he even reached him.
Ichiro came in for the attack. He tried to parry, but fell short again, getting slashed across the shoulder.
"Am I going crazy?" he thought as he moved to strike the back of the now stationary Ichiro—but what came next confused him even more.
His claws phased right through him, as if he were nothing more than a hollow image.
Before he could react, Ichiro appeared behind him. There was no time to think or question why there were two of him—he could only brace himself for the incoming strike.
A heavy slash tore across his back, ripping through his robe, but it was stopped from cutting through him by a semi-formed clot.
He spun back to counter, but Ichiro had already leapt away.
"How long are you going to keep fighting on assumptions?" Ichiro asked.
"What are you talking about?" Ryuji asked, his breaths strenuous.
Now pointing his sword at him, the sunlight reflecting off its edge into his eyes, Ichiro said, "Not once have you come close to reaching me. Yet you say that it is me who will fall today."
"It's now only a matter of time before you spiral completely off the edge," he continued, "and when you do, I'll be there to cut you down."
---
Beside the down-flowing stream, the group of villagers finally stopped.
"For now," Miyuki said, "this is a good place to lay low so that we can buy them some time."
Takae nodded.
Miyuki turned to her and said, "let's erect a defensive barrier on them in case of any surprises."
"Sure," she replied.
"Please head this way," Takae said to Mei and Juro, pointing toward the larger group.
The two obliged.
"You cast the first layer," Miyuki told her, "I'll handle the second."
Once Mei and Juro had settled into the group, Takae stepped forward and formed a triangle with her two hands.
At the base of her feet, a large yellow septagonal circle formed, dazzling the children in the crowd.
One of them tugged at her mother's robe and said, "Look mommy isn't it pretty."
There was no response, as the mother—along with the other adults in the crowd—looked on, unsure.
Takae took a breath.
"Tower Series number 19: Veil of Vines."
The ground beneath them began to shake, and huge, thick tree stems burst from the earth.
They grew rapidly, forming a circular pattern around them, and the spaces between the branches sealed into a transparent barrier.
"I'm don—" she started, before suddenly sensing an unfamiliar energy signature rapidly approaching them.
Before she could even turn, she heard the sharp sound of steel clashing.
When she did, she saw Miyuki with her sword drawn.
A chill ran down her spine as she looked further—there stood a man with predatory yellow eyes, silky black hair, and long pointed ears atop his head.
In his hand, he held something glowing, but whatever it was broke away before she could identify it.
"This guy," Miyuki said, "his source energy signature is so similar to yours that I could barely distinguish you two."
"The same was true for the others we faced before," she continued, "who is he?"
"Nice to meet you," the man said, his tone softer, but leaving an eerie feeling behind, "my name is Takeru Shiga, it's a pleasure."