The sound of gunfire and steel echoed through the marble halls of the third floor.
Itsuki stood, blood dripping his mouth, eyes burning black as tar. He cracked his neck, staring down the woman before him.
"Out of my fucking way, bitch."
The woman smirked, her steps slow and graceful predator-like. Her short, neck-length black hair framed her pale face, and the slit in her gothic wrap dress revealed the faint shimmer of knives strapped to her thigh.
"Bitch?" she repeated, almost amused. "How disrespectful. My name's Nayuta, you spoiled little brat. I'll make sure to pull that dirty tongue right out of your mouth."
Itsuki cocked his pistol and growled, "Shut the fuck up."
He fired the bullet grazed her arm.
Nayuta hissed, twisting gracefully to the side.
"Oh my… You're using your Shintai at full strength already?" she said, voice dripping with mock admiration. "How adorable."
In a blink, she leapt forward her movement a blur of fluid gun-kata and karate, her kicks sharp enough to shatter concrete. Itsuki barely raised his arm when her foot slammed into his ribs, sending him crashing into the floor.
Before she could follow up, he grabbed her ankle mid-motion, eyes wild, and slammed a fist across her face, blood splattering from her lip as she staggered back with a twisted smile.
"Oh, you'll be fun to break."
Meanwhile on the other side
Ken stood before a wall of a man, a giant nearly seven feet tall, muscles like carved stone, his katana gleaming under the red light.
Ken muttered under his breath, "What's with these giants showing up everywhere…"
He reached back, unsheathing his own black katana, his stance tight.
The giant grinned, swinging first the clash sent a shockwave down the corridor. Metal screamed. Sparks flew.
Ken was fast, but the sheer force of the man's strikes rattled his bones. He blocked one blow, parried the second, but the third sliced clean across his chest deep, but not fatal.
He stumbled back, clutching his bleeding side, exhaling sharply.
"Damn it… That all you got, big guy?"
The giant grinned wider. "Not even close, kid."
Ken tightened his grip, the blood running down his arm. "Good. I was hoping you'd say that."
The air turned heavy almost alive with pressure.
Both Itsuki and Ken froze mid-fight, their opponents smirking, ready to move in for the kill.
Then—
They both exhaled.
A thick, white smoke drifted from their mouths not normal smoke, but the kind that shimmered, alive with energy. The veins along their necks pulsed black as their eyes dimmed like dying embers before igniting again.
In that instant, both of them remembered that week in hell under Nifumi's training the sleepless nights, the bone-breaking sessions, the drills that felt more like torture. The screams. The blood. The endless pain.
Both whispered the same words under their breath.
> "You're nothing in front of him."
Before Nayuta could blink, Itsuki vanished.
Her eyes widened — "What the—"
He appeared in front of her, fist already buried in her gut.
"Too slow," he hissed.
A blur of motion followed a barrage of punches rained down like a storm.
His fists cracked against her ribs, her jaw, her chest one after another, faster than the eye could follow.
She staggered back, coughing blood, but before she could regain balance, he grabbed her by the collar, his voice shaking with fury.
"You people make me sick."
He slammed her into the wall, the tiles shattering around her body. Nayuta coughed, still smiling through the blood.
"You've got the rage…" she muttered weakly, "but not full control."
Itsuki didn't answer. He stepped forward shadows coiling around his arm ready to finish it.
Across the hall, Ken's blood dripped down his blade, the floor shaking beneath each of their movements.
The giant lunged with monstrous speed, bringing his katana down with a roar. Ken caught it mid-swing sparks exploded as both blades screamed.
Their eyes locked.
Ken whispered, "You're not half the monster he is."
He closed his eyes. Breathed in.
And when he opened them his pupils turned white again.
The air cracked.
Ken moved faster than sound.
Each swing of his katana was so sharp that it left afterimages, tearing through the air.
He slashed again, again, again until the sound of steel breaking echoed through the corridor.
Both blades shattered.
For a second, there was silence.
Then, the giant's face twisted confusion, then agony as blood exploded from his shoulder.
Ken stood still, his arm extended, half a blade still in hand.
The giant looked down and saw it his right arm, cleanly severed, tumbling to the floor.
Ken whispered the name of the technique, voice cold as ice:
"Kazan — Heaven Splitter."
The giant stumbled, roaring in rage. Ken didn't move. The blood dripping off his shattered blade was the only sound left.
While Itsuki and Ken carved through chaos upstairs, another storm was unfolding on the same floor calm, precise, and far deadlier. Hayato never needed Shintai to kill.
Hayato stood alone among them, black suit torn at the sleeves, chest rising slow.
Two empty pistols dangled from his belt.
His katana dripped blood, steady and quiet.
He tossed a severed head rolled and stopped near a fallen chair.
From the shadows, five more assassins stepped forward coats long, boots heavy, all armed and far too confident.
One of them whistled low.
"Twenty fucking men dead… and he's still standing what the hell."
Another cracked his neck. "He's not even using his Shintai."
A third tall, bald, his face marked with scars grinned.
"Then we're lucky i guess. Let's end this fucker."
Hayato raised his eyes, their calm cutting sharper than his blade.
He brushed blood from his glove and said, almost bored,
"Five of you? Should I close my eyes for this one?"
They spread out.
One in front, two flanking, the other two readying guns.
The scarred one spat. "Cocky bastard."
Hayato tilted his head. "You talk too much."
The gunmen opened fire first sharp, precise bursts.
Hayato stepped aside, fluid as smoke, the rounds tearing only the air behind him.
He slid forward, steel flashing once.
A single gunman collapsed before realizing he'd been cut.
The second shouted, "What the hell is this—"
Hayato twisted, grabbed him by the collar, and rammed his head against a pillar and shot him in the head with his own pistol. The man fell silent.
Three left.
The scarred leader growled, drawing twin blades.
"Enough of your half ass tricks."
He lunged.
Hayato met him halfway their blades screamed against each other, sparks splitting the dark.
The scarred man smirked, teeth red.
"Not bad, old man."
Hayato shoved him back, rolling his shoulder.
"I'm not that old and old men don't fucking miss."
He stepped in and drove his elbow into the man's throat, sending him gasping to the floor.
The fourth assassin came from behind with a roar, swinging a chain.
Hayato caught it midair, yanked hard, and the man flew forward one strike ended him.
The last one froze.
"You're— you're not human…" he whispered, trembling.
Hayato wiped his blade clean and pointed it toward him.
"Neither are you. You gave that up the day you sold your soul for money."
The man screamed and charged.
Steel flashed — once.
Silence.
Hayato exhaled through his teeth, the cigarette still burning between his lips. He slid the blade back into its sheath with a soft click.
He looked around at the corpses twenty-five in total now.
"Twenty-five," he murmured.
Then, with a crooked grin,
"Guess I'm warmed up."