"Is what's inside your box a rare Teigu…
"…or is it the poison needle hidden in your sleeve that kills on contact?"
Uchiha Tobirama's calm, playful voice echoed through the grand hall.
The flattering smile on Chelsea's face froze solid.
Her mind went blank, a loud buzzing filling her ears as her entire body stiffened.
I've been exposed?!
Impossible.
Gaea Foundation was a flawless disguise—even elite assassins couldn't see through it. Yet not only had he uncovered her identity, he had pinpointed the poison needle hidden in her sleeve.
For a split second, madness and resolve flared in her eyes.
Close enough.
Three steps—her absolute kill range, practiced countless times.
"Then die!" Chelsea screamed.
Poof!
The disguise shattered in a burst of white smoke. The noblewoman vanished, replaced by the orange-haired assassin in an instant. She lunged forward, body blurring into an afterimage, the silver needle—coated in lethal venom—whistling straight for Tobirama's throat.
Fast. Precise. Merciless.
Even an Imperial General would have fallen to such a strike at this distance.
But Tobirama didn't even blink.
"Is that all?"
His right hand lifted.
Snap.
A sharp sound cut through the air.
Chelsea's wrist stopped less than a centimeter from Tobirama's throat, locked in place by an iron grip. The numbing counterforce raced up her arm, and the needle clattered onto the marble floor.
"What—?!" Her pupils shrank violently.
She hadn't even seen him move.
"Up."
Tobirama exerted force.
Chelsea was yanked off the ground and tossed aside like discarded cloth.
Bang!
She slammed into a high-backed chair, breath knocked from her lungs. A powerful hand pinned her in place, preventing any movement.
The entire exchange took less than a heartbeat—clean, effortless, absolute.
Chelsea stared ahead, stunned.
Her perfect infiltration.
Her carefully calculated distance.
Her desperate, all-or-nothing strike.
All meaningless.
"Surprised?" Tobirama leaned closer, voice steady and unhurried. "You believed your plan was flawless. You thought proximity alone could create a miracle."
Each word struck like a blade, stripping away her confidence.
"From the moment you set foot in this city," he continued evenly, "your presence was known."
He released her, stepping back with composed indifference.
"Understand this," Tobirama said, looking down at her without emotion. "Before absolute strength, deception and desperation are nothing."
Chelsea's shoulders sagged.
It was over.
She had failed—not just to win, but even to trade her life for his.
Her breathing steadied as the reality sank in: captured, outmatched, and powerless.
Tobirama turned away, his voice carrying finality.
"This concludes your attempt."
The hall fell silent, the weight of defeat pressing down as Chelsea remained seated, her resolve broken and her fate sealed.