The moment he lunges—
A shock.
His flank explodes under the impact of a brutal strike.
Kaïro is sent flying backward, eyes widening. No blood. Just surprise. He lands without crashing, his own time-slowing softening the fall. On his feet again a few meters away, he straightens, and his gaze shifts to the one he'd forgotten.
Aris.
The boy stands there, arm raised, eyes sharp and focused.
And Kaïro feels it.
Something is different.
No… he's stronger. Radically stronger than he was a few minutes ago.
Kaïro grits his teeth. He watches. He analyzes.
Aris stands straight. His breathing is deep, but steady. He just struck someone who can slow time itself. And yet—he's not shaking.
And that's when Kaïro senses it.
It's not luck.
It's not a burst of adrenaline.
It's… something else.
His energy… it's matching mine.
Kaïro blinks. He can see every particle, every pulse of that invisible force they call Word energy.
And what he sees in Aris is wrong.
His flow is identical to Kaïro's.
But just a little higher.
Barely. A fraction.
And that fraction changes everything.
Copying me? No. It's not a reflection. It's surpassing.
Just enough to be superior. Just enough to win…
Kaïro takes a step back.
Not fear. Caution.
In front of him, Aris tightens his fists. His gaze is cold, precise. But there's a painful light burning behind his pupils.
Every heartbeat tears a grimace out of him that he forces back down.
This power… I still don't fully understand it. But I can feel it—
The stronger my opponent, the sharper the pain.
It's a mirror that cuts both ways.
And raw strength isn't the only factor.
Aris's Word doesn't copy abilities.
It surpasses them.
Slightly.
But always.
And that tiny gap… he pays for it with his own body.
Kaïro is too stable. Too refined. His energy is a controlled river, channeled by years of discipline.
Me, I'm still a storm in training.
And now I have to force a whole river through my own chaos.
His body burns from the inside.
As if every nerve, every muscle, every organ had to adjust in real-time to a superior version of itself. Violent tingling runs under his skin, like needles of pure energy. His jaw clenches despite him. He fights not to fall to his knees.
But he holds.
Because I have to. Because Heyo is out. Because Fortuna is in danger. Because I can fight too.
Kaïro watches.
He recognizes that pain.
He knows it.
And he stops underestimating Aris.
"Fascinating," he says at last. "Your power… it raises you just above your target."
He slowly raises his arms.
"But at what price?"
A thin line of blood runs from Aris's nose. He ignores it.
"The price of victory," he murmurs.
Kaïro nods. A crooked grin cuts across his face.
"Then let's see if you're ready to pay the full bill."
Aris charges.
His body is a raw blade, sharpened by will, heated white-hot by pain. He doesn't strike out of anger.
He strikes because he must.
Kaïro dodges effortlessly.
Not out of arrogance.
Out of clinical precision.
He activates his time-slowing again—but in a far more refined way than before. He doesn't slow everything. He doesn't turn the air around him into a solid wall.
No. He targets.
Aris's left wrist.
His hip.
His right elbow.
The micro-movements in the ankle that anchors his stance.
With every attack, Kaïro slows down specific parts of Aris's body, sabotaging his combos before Aris himself is even aware of his own movements.
It's like dancing with a puppet on invisible strings.
And still… Aris keeps going.
He takes the pain.
He accelerates.
He slams himself against his own limits again and again, as if breaking himself made more sense than backing down.
Kaïro keeps that lazy, detached expression. A faint smile floats on his lips. Not mocking.
Intrigued.
This guy… he's killing himself just to reach me.
He's closing in on my level.
He brushes it.
He recreates it… with a body that can't keep up.
It feeds my ego in a weird way.
It's like watching my reflection crack because the mirror can't handle it.
He continues to dodge, hands sometimes slipping back into his pockets—as if to show he doesn't even need his full body to evade.
But behind that façade… his thoughts race.
Three. There are three of them.
The guy from last time.
The unpredictable girl with that weird but dangerous power.
And this kid—a living mirror forcing me to use my best evasions.
All three… in government uniforms.
His eyes narrow, just a little.
Soldiers? No. Too young. Too raw. You can feel it.
Not soldiers.
Anomalies.
Special pieces, gathered. Watched.
Used because their Words are dangerous.
His gaze slips toward Nora.
A shiver climbs his spine.
And that girl… that demon…
Is she a key piece?
A core asset?
Or worse—
Something they're here to retrieve… or erase?
Something bothers him.
Kaïro takes a few steps back, just enough to breathe. He lets Aris close the distance, ready to counter if necessary—but his mind is elsewhere.
They're together. That's not random.
A combo like this doesn't just "happen".
The government is using them.
They're probably being watched right now. Which means…
A mental flash. Violent.
That monstrous woman from last time.
The one who forced me to run for my life.
She's here.
She's watching them.
So she's watching him.
His stomach tightens.
A deep survival instinct roars awake inside him. Rare. But familiar. And when it speaks—he listens.
I can't kill them. Not now.
If they stay alive, they're leverage.
Hostages.
My only bargaining chip if she decides I'm no longer needed.
He exhales. Reluctantly.
He keeps dodging Aris—without counterattacking. Just enough to let the boy burn himself out. To let his own power eat him alive.
This is getting boring.
His eyes darken. He glances at Fortuna, still in the back, that playful glint in her gaze.
Especially if she decides to throw her damn "game" at me again.
Kaïro clenches his fists.
The situation is turning unstable.
Too many variables.
Too many unexpected monsters on the board.
And he starts to understand—
This fight… was never just a fight.
It was a setup.
A test.
A stage.
And for the first time—
He's no longer sure he's standing on the right side.