Garron moved.
He exploded.
His boots tore the dirt open behind him, his body streaking forward with a predator's hunger. Serik barely had time to drop his weight before the dagger sliced across where his throat had been.
A metallic whisper.
A breath of wind.
The blade missed.
Garron skidded, spun, and attacked again. Serik cut to the side, stepping into the diagonal angle of Kōdan, redirecting the man's weight. It saved him from the full strike—but not the glancing swipe that kissed his shoulder.
A thin line of blood appeared and dripped down his arm.
Garron grinned wider."You bleed beautifully."
Serik didn't respond. He inhaled sharply, exhaled louder, and moved.
Kōdan.
His feet slid in the exact pattern Jons had drilled into him for weeks—cut angles, redirect force, never meet brute strength head-on. The next slash from Garron carved empty air as Serik slipped past him, shoulder brushing Garron's ribs.
Jade Pulse.
Serik's fist struck upward, catching Garron under the jaw.
Crack.
Garron staggered backwards, but only barely. He wiped blood from his lip, smiling as if Serik had given him a gift.
"That's more like it!"
Then he charged again.
This time the dagger came in tight arcs. Garron didn't swing wildly—he carved kill-paths. Every slash had a purpose. Every step cut off Serik's escape. Serik ducked under the first two slashes, blocked the third with his forearm, slid around the fourth—
But the fifth—
He didn't see it.
It came from a low angle, a sweep aimed at his abdomen, too close, too fast. He twisted to deflect it, but Garron feinted and—
SHHK.
The blade tore across Serik's chest.
The world stopped.
Not a shallow cut.Not a line of pain.
It tore from his upper left pectoral down toward his ribs—a deep, vicious slash that peeled muscle and flesh apart.
Blood burst out in a wave, hot and thick. It sprayed across the dirt, splattering Garron's boots, dripping down Serik's stomach in sheets.
Jons took a step forward. His breath caught.
Inside, he thought:
If that cut was two inches deeper….
Serik's knees buckled. His vision shook.
But he did not fall.
His breath exploded out of him in a violent, animalistic growl. Something primal surged through his veins, an ancient instinct that drowned out the pain.
Garron's eyes widened—not in triumph, but in shock.
"You're still—standing?"
Serik's gaze rose, slow and terrifying. The blue in his eyes had gone cold.His entire torso soaked in blood. The wound still leaking, gushing, dripping down his abdomen and legs.
He looked like something dragged out of a nightmare.
A monster in the making.
Serik spat blood onto the ground. "The hunt… isn't done."
Garron felt something sink in his stomach—but then he forced a laugh.
"GOOD! GOOD! COME ON THEN! SHOW ME WHAT YOU ARE!"
He lunged.
Serik didn't step back.
He stepped in.
Pain screamed through his chest as the movement stretched the wound open even further—but he ignored it, adrenaline blasting through him like fire.
The dagger came down—Serik angled his body—The blade grazing his ribs—Blood spraying sideways—
But Serik's hand locked around Garron's wrist.
He pulled.
Their bodies slammed together, and Serik smashed his forehead into Garron's nose. Bone cracked. Garron reeled, vision blurring.
Serik didn't stop.
He twisted Garron's wrist—The dagger almost fell—Garron grabbed it with his other hand—Serik pivoted—Kōdan angle—Then—
Jade Pulse.
His fist shot upward into Garron's solar plexus.
Garron gagged, spitting saliva and blood. He stumbled but didn't fall—he refused to fall.
"You stubborn little DEMON!"
He slashed wildly now, desperation twisting his movements. Serik dodged the first two but the third carved across his side, deep enough to sting bone. Blood poured freely, turning his skin crimson.
Jons watched, frozen between intervention and obedience.
'Young master... how was are you planning one going?'
Garron didn't stop. Serik didn't stop.
They crashed into each other again—fist against blade, bone against bone. The backyard echoed with impacts, gasps, screams, and the wet sound of blood hitting dirt.
At one point Garron lifted the dagger for a final overhead strike—
Serik grabbed his wrist with both hands, chest ripping wider at the strain, and roared through clenched teeth.
"YOU—WILL—FALL!"
Garron roared back, their foreheads almost touching.
"You're not human, kid!"
Serik's voice was a whisper of hatred and clarity.
"I don't need to be human… to hunt you."
They pushed.
Their feet dug into the dirt. The moon cast their shadows long and sharp. Blood dripped from Serik's arms, falling like rain. Garron's breath rattled with broken ribs.
And then—
Both of them let go of restraint.
They charged.
Serik, unarmed, chest torn open, eyes burning.Garron, dagger raised, teeth bared, blood running down his face.
The night split with the sound of their final collision—
A CLASH that shook the yard.
Dust exploded upward. The shockwave cracked the dirt beneath them. Jons clothes rippled in the force.
And then—