CLAAANG!
The two blades collide in midair once more.
A wave of wind sweeps the dust outward, forming a hollow circle around them. Predator presses forward with brutal strength, the muscles in his arms tightening like living steel. Jiza withstands it with precision. His foot shifts half an inch; the ground cracks faintly beneath his heel—yet he does not fall.
Predator twists his sword to the left, attempting to break the angle of defense.
Jiza adjusts his blade in a fraction of a second.
SPARK!
Sparks flare above the bandages covering their faces.
Suddenly—
BLASH!
Predator vanishes from the front and reappears at Jiza's right side. A horizontal slash drives toward his waist.
Jiza leaps back slightly. The tip of the blade merely grazes the edge of his bandaged cloth.
"Fast…" he murmurs quietly.
He retaliates.
SKLASH!
A straight slash aims for the chest.
Predator tilts his body in a split second. The blade only scrapes across the bandages and his chest guard.
They face each other once more.
Silence.
"You know," Jiza says, his breathing steady, "to make this more manly… I will force you into a true fight."
He steps forward.
C-TANG!
Instead of striking the body, he smashes the hilt of Predator's sword with the angle of his own blade. Precise. Powerful. Intentional.
The massive sword slips from Predator's grasp and is hurled several meters away before embedding itself in the ground.
Jiza lets out a faint laugh.
"This… is the real fight."
He throws his sword in the opposite direction. The blade spins and pierces the earth far from them.
Now both stand unarmed.
Predator lowers his stance.
Both of his hands clench into fists.
Jiza does the same.
But Jiza's stance is different.
Lower. Tighter. Wilder.
The Mad Fighter Technique.
Predator freezes for a split second.
That movement.
That foot position.
That shoulder angle.
For the third time, he sees it.
"I know your weakness… Legend," Jiza mutters.
He charges.
SPASHH!
A straight punch strikes Predator's chest, directly above the heart. The armor from shoulder to chest trembles violently—cracking from within.
Predator is pushed two steps back.
But he does not fall.
Jiza smiles faintly.
Above them, Johan narrows his eyes.
"It will not be that easy to bring him down, Jiza," he mutters.
"Not that easy to bring you down, hm?" Jiza replies softly.
He shifts his stance.
Another technique.
A diagonal step. Shoulder leaning forward. Right hand hidden below the line of sight.
He charges again.
But this time, Predator moves.
He raises his empty hand.
C-TAST!
Jiza's fist slams into his ribs.
C-TUST!
Predator's fist retaliates, striking Jiza's abdomen.
Both choke at the same time.
They step back half a pace.
Draw breath.
Attack again.
Jiza no longer strikes singly.
He closes into an extremely tight range—too close for slashes, too close for leaps.
He unleashes a flurry of attacks.
Side—C-TAST!
Stomach—C-TUST!
Ribs—C-TAST!
Heart—C-TUST!
More than four clean blows land on four vital points.
"Hmph?!" Jiza mutters.
There is no significant reaction.
Predator stands firm.
His massive body shifts only slightly.
Above them, Johan smiles faintly.
"That is it," he says quietly. "No attack will have any effect anymore. His broad and towering body… has now adapted. Nothing can penetrate it with bare hands."
Jiza glances at his sword embedded not far away.
He draws a deep breath.
The final stance of the Mad Fighter.
The one that usually ends the fight.
Predator freezes once more.
That position.
That angle.
His body appears completely open—without defense.
"Ah, so he is that child?" Oliver murmurs.
Jiza laughs softly.
"Farewell, Legend."
He bursts forward.
SKLASH—
A single palm strike slams into Predator's face. The giant head snaps to the side. Not enough to bring him down—yet enough to create an opening.
Jiza is already running toward his sword.
He pulls it from the ground in one motion.
Turns.
Charges again.
Predator is still half-kneeling—not yet fallen.
Jiza stands before him.
"For my brother…" he murmurs.
He swings the sword.
SLASH—
The blade cuts fully across Predator's neck.
Silence.
The massive body remains standing for a fraction of a second.
Then slowly—
It collapses.
Dust rises lightly as the nearly three-meter figure crashes to the ground.
No cheers.
No explosion of victory.
Only silence.
Johan stands frozen.
His eyes widen.
In the middle of the field, Jiza stands with a blood-soaked sword.
Yet hundreds of eyes are now fixed upon him.
Johan exhales slowly.
"World fugitive…" he mutters coldly. "Effective as of this moment, Jiza."
The silence following Predator's collapse feels heavier than the sound of any battle.
Johan slowly rises from his seat.
Dust still swirls in the air. Predator's massive body lies lifeless behind Jiza.
Johan steps forward several paces. His coat flutters lightly.
He raises one hand into the air.
Lowers it.
Points straight at Jiza.
"Capture him. Execute him," his voice echoes clearly through the silence. "He is now a world fugitive and an enemy of the world!"
There are no hysterical screams.
No cheers.
Only a command falling like a hammer.
The remaining soldiers—who moments ago were too afraid to approach—now move in unison. They charge at Jiza from all directions.
Jiza does not raise his sword.
He does not take a stance.
He simply stands still.
Staring straight ahead.
Johan lifts an eyebrow.
"Hm?" he mutters softly.
Suddenly—
Two shadows flash past.
CLASH—
SLASH—
Loki appears at Jiza's left side, cutting down two soldiers in a single swing. Albert moves at the right, his blade dancing swiftly, snapping spears and slicing through enemy chests in one clean rhythm.
Within seconds—
Every soldier who charges at Jiza collapses.
Silence returns.
From atop the tower—
"RELEASE!"
The sky darkens again.
Hundreds—even thousands—of arrows shoot forth simultaneously, blotting out the morning light for the second time. Their sound resembles an iron storm descending without mercy.
SHHHHHHH—
Loki looks up.
He smiles faintly.
"Your performance, Albert," he murmurs near Albert and Jiza.
Albert steps half a pace forward.
His sword rises.
And begins to move.
CLING—CLANG—SHK—SKLASH—
His movements are nearly invisible. The blade rotates in such precise patterns that the falling arrows seem like fragile splinters of wood. He does not panic. He does not rush.
He cuts one.
Two.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
Not a single arrow touches the ground between the three of them.
Broken iron rains down like a second storm.
When the barrage ends, the sky brightens once more.
"Impressive…" Johan says softly.
He begins descending from the higher ground, approaching them with calm steps.
His smile slowly turns cynical.
"So… you have fully decided to become rebels, have you?!"
He stops several meters before them.
"Congratulations," he murmurs lightly. "You are officially enemies of the world now."
Silence.
The wind blows gently.
Johan turns, walking toward the execution pillar.
"As I told you, Jiza," he says without looking back, "another figure will arrive shortly. Do you wish to face that as well? There will be no exit after that."
He pauses. Half-turns his head.
"Now is the perfect time to run as far as you can… my puppets."
Jiza does not answer.
He begins walking away from the execution ground.
Albert and Loki follow without a word.
They pass the scattered bodies and step beyond the circle of the field.
"That is the correct decision," Johan murmurs in satisfaction.
In the distance, marshals from various nations who watch from the stands and the horizon begin to applaud slowly. The applause is cold. Formal. An appreciation for the "order" that has been restored.
Johan walks again.
This time toward Olivia, who is still crawling weakly toward the execution pillar.
He stops before her.
Olivia ceases crawling.
"I thought using you earlier would be useful," Johan says flatly. "Had I known it would end like this… I would have discarded and killed you at that meeting."
The sound of carriage wheels approaches.
A carriage stops near the pillar.
Johan crouches before Olivia.
"Hey," he says gently. "Would you like to witness the result of your actions?"
He points toward the pillar.
"Look over there. Is that not a figure familiar to you?"
A woman steps down from the carriage.
A long, slender sword rests in her hand.
A cloak covers half her face and shoulders. A special military uniform wraps her chest and waist. From the bridge of her nose upward to her hair, her face is bound in bandages.
She ascends the steps of the execution platform.
Olivia freezes.
Her eyes widen.
"M-Master…?" she whispers, barely audible.
The woman reaches the top, standing near Zeco and Oliver, who remain bound.
Johan rises again.
He looks up at Oliver.
One hand lifts.
Only his index finger extends.
The others curl inward.
The female warrior raises her sword.
Olivia crawls forward quickly.
She clutches Johan's leg tightly.
"No… no, no… please!" her voice breaks. "Punish me! Punish me! PUNISH ME!"
Johan slowly closes his index finger.
His hand lowers before his chest.
Olivia tightens her grip.
"Please! Please! PLEASE!"
"EXECUTE HIM."
SKLASH—
The slender blade slices fully across Oliver's neck.
Time seems to stop.
"NOOOOO!!!"
Oliver's body collapses.
Blood flows across the wooden platform.
Olivia's breathing grows frantic.
Hot.
Furious.
Her hands clench tightly.
She rises with a face filled with vengeance—
SKWASSHHH—
Her fist lands hard against Johan's face.
The impact echoes.
But Johan does not stagger.
He smiles cynically.
Then laughs softly.
"If you believe that is equivalent, suit yourself," he says lightly. "Because in my view… it is not."
"Damn you!" Olivia lunges to strike again.
"CAPTURE HER!" one of the marshals shouts.
The remaining soldiers rush forward.
Olivia takes a stance, preparing to strike Johan once more.
But Johan does not retreat.
He does not move at all.
Instead, he spreads both arms open.
As if inviting the blow.
The soldiers tackle Olivia from behind.
They restrain her arms. Force her body to the ground.
She still struggles to rise.
Still tries to kick.
"Let me go!"
Swords are pointed at her neck.
"Execute her!" the command rings out again.
And the field, which from the beginning has been filled with screams and blood, falls once more into a silence far more cruel than any battle.
---
"You bastards, your behavior is no different from animals!" I say, standing among those who are about to execute Olivia.