The Twin Dragons did not move.
They stood opposite Moro and Isuna beneath the harsh ceiling lights, perfectly still, blades angled low, breathing slow and synchronized. Not statues. Not guards. Something closer to animals that had already decided the outcome and were simply waiting for their instincts to activate.
The air felt tighter around them.
Isuna shifted her footing, barely a sound, but Moro felt it. He sensed the change in her posture, the way her weight settled lower, her shoulders looser, ready for violence.
"These aren't Kurokage," she murmured, eyes locked forward.
Moro said nothing. His grip tightened on the hilt of his katana, the familiar weight grounding him. The words etched into the blade caught the light.
TO THE DEATH.
Across the chamber, Ogawa's voice slithered through the speakers, pleased, almost affectionate.
"Beautiful, aren't they?" he said. "Perfect symmetry. Perfect shinobi. I spared no expense."
The male Dragon took one step forward.
The female mirrored him exactly.
Silent. Measured. As if every movement had been rehearsed a thousand times before today.
Moro exhaled slowly.
Whatever these two were, they were not assassins meant to overwhelm by numbers. They were here to end things.
Ogawa chuckled. "Go on then," he purred. "Let's see how merciless you really are."
The Dragons vanished.
The chamber exploded into motion.
A burst of shuriken snapped toward Moro like a flock of black birds. Moro's katana flickered. Steel pinged and sang as he deflected them with effortless economy, turning lethal points into harmless sparks against stone.
Then the male Dragon was simply there.
Metal met metal with a crack that rang through Moro's bones. Their blades collided, separated, collided again. The exchange was so fast the sound blurred into a constant metallic scream. Sparks scattered across the floor like fireflies.
Neither slowed. Neither breathed hard. Neither gave ground.
Isuna moved like a fuse catching flame.
She planted a foot on Moro's shoulders and used him as a springboard, launching herself toward the female Dragon. Midair, Isuna's tomahawks flashed, aimed to split mask and skull in one brutal crossing strike.
The female Dragon answered without panic.
A kusarigama hissed into view, chain singing through the air. The sickle caught Isuna's momentum, the weight whipping around with perfect timing. Isuna muscled into it anyway, forcing the female Dragon back a step, then another, brute strength crashing against refined technique.
For half a heartbeat, it looked like Isuna might overwhelm her.
Then the chain snapped down.
The weighted tail wrapped Isuna's legs in a blink and yanked hard.
Isuna's body disappeared sideways. She slammed into the wall with a sound like breaking meat, stone bursting outward as she was thrown clean through it. Dust and debris rained into the chamber.
The female Dragon stepped toward the hole with calm, almost bored precision.
"Pathetic," she said, voice cold as steel.
She broke into a sprint to finish it.
Across the room, Moro's duel turned sharper.
The male Dragon flowed past him, footwork seamless, and struck from Moro's blind side. Moro twisted, parrying low, then high, then rotating into a counter that would have split most men from shoulder to hip.
The Dragon slipped inside the arc.
Too close.
A blade flashed for Moro's throat.
Moro leaned back just enough to let it pass, felt the cold breath of steel graze his skin, then snapped forward with a vertical cut meant to end the fight.
The Dragon vanished.
No retreat. No stumble. Just gone.
Moro's blade cleaved empty air.
The Dragon reappeared behind him, striking in a flurry so fast it blurred into a single continuous motion. Moro blocked by instinct alone, sparks erupting as steel met steel again and again. Each blow landed exactly where Moro had to block, forcing him backward step by step, not by strength, but by perfect timing.
Ogawa lounged above the chamber, eyes glued to the combat, as the fight below escalated into something brutal.
"This is magnificent," he said, grinning to himself. "I can't believe I'm watching this live. Holy shit… and they say crime doesn't pay."
He laughed, long and satisfied, fingers drumming against the arm of his chair as steel clashed and bodies flew.
Then the sound cut in.
A sharp ringing alarm. Not the combat alert. Not the perimeter sensors.
Ogawa's laughter faltered.
He frowned and leaned forward, eyes flicking to the side monitors. The alarm rang again, louder, more insistent.
"Oh god," he muttered. "What now."
Before he could rise, the door to his chamber burst open and a guard stumbled inside, breathless, helmet crooked.
"Uh… sir," the guard said, struggling to catch his breath, "there's a bit of a problem."
Ogawa didn't look away from the screen. "Let me guess," he said flatly. "Isuna getting sent through a wall tripped the alarm system. No problem."
"Uh… no, sir," the guard replied, voice trembling. "There's an intruder."
Ogawa sighed, irritated now. "Okay. Then kill the motherfucker. Put a bullet through his head."
The guard swallowed hard. "Sir… we tried that."
Ogawa's fingers stopped drumming.
"He killed a bunch of Kurokage," the guard continued. "Like… a lot of them."
Ogawa finally turned in his chair.
Before he could speak, the chamber doors exploded inward.
Metal screamed. Hinges tore free. Smoke and dust poured into the room.
A massive silhouette stepped through the wreckage.
Polished silver armor scorched and bloodied. Blonde hair darkened with soot. A claymore rested casually on the man's shoulder, its edge nicked and dripping red.
Sir William Henry surveyed the room with calm, measured eyes.
"Good morrow, gentlemen," he said evenly. His voice carried the weight of ceremony and judgment alike.
"Ogawa… at last. I am pleased to find you present to receive me."
Ogawa stared.
For the first time that night, the crime lord did not smile.
"Now, wait, William," Ogawa said quickly, hands lifting in a placating gesture. "I can explain. We didn't know you'd be fighting Moro."
Sir William raised one gauntleted hand.
Ogawa stopped mid sentence, the words dying in his throat.
William's voice was calm. Cold. Measured like a verdict already decided.
"First," he said, "you did interrupt an honorable duel between two honorable warriors, a matter that did not concern you."
He stepped forward once.
"Second, your hired cutthroats attempted to eviscerate me with a rocket launcher. A weapon fit for sieges, not men."
William's claymore rose smoothly, the tip settling beneath Ogawa's chin. Steel kissed skin.
Ogawa froze, breath shallow.
"Please," Ogawa whispered. "William… I can explain."
William's eyes did not soften.
"Then speak quickly," he said, "for you stand upon borrowed time."
Ogawa's eyes flicked, not to William's face, but to his own hand.
William noticed too late.
Ogawa slammed his palm down.
The floor beneath him dropped away with a violent hiss of hydraulics. Steel plates split apart and Ogawa vanished downward, his scream swallowed by the sudden roar of machinery.
William lunged, claymore slashing down, but the blade struck only empty air and snapping metal. The trapdoor sealed itself instantly, locking shut with a heavy, final clang.
Smoke rolled through the chamber.
William stood over the closed hatch, chest rising, jaw tight. He drove the tip of his claymore into the seam and pressed down with brute force. The metal groaned, warped slightly—
Then held.
William exhaled slowly.
"Coward," he said, not loudly.
The alarms changed pitch again. Faster now. Panicked.
William turned toward the reinforced glass overlooking the lower chamber.
Below, steel flashed.
Moro was still fighting.
Isuna too.
And the Twin Dragons had not yet fallen.