The air inside the old school building was stagnant.
The dust wasn't still—
just slow.
It rotated lazily within the narrow shaft of light falling from the sealed skylight.
The light was cold white.
Cut into distinct sections by the walls.
Clear boundaries between brightness and shadow.
The central space lay empty.
Footsteps echoed off the walls—
then were quickly absorbed by the heavy structure.
Fine cracks spread across the floor,
extending into the shadows of the corridors.
—
77 stood in place.
Shoulders slightly lowered.
Breath pressed deep into his chest.
His stance was close-combat oriented.
Left foot forward.
Toes angled slightly inward.
Heel lightly grounded.
Knees naturally bent.
Hands raised.
Elbows tucked.
Fists not fully clenched.
Center of gravity balanced between both feet.
He could press forward—
or retreat.
His back and shoulders were tense.
His gaze steady.
Locked onto No. 33's collarbone.
—
No. 33 had no stance.
His body was loose.
Shoulders slightly uneven.
Arms hanging naturally.
Fingers swaying faintly.
His center of gravity was unreadable.
Breathing uneven.
Long—then short.
No way to predict his next move.
Yet his gaze never left 77.
—
The air tightened between them.
Like invisible threads pulling them together.
—
No. 33 moved first.
Without warning.
A flick of his wrist—
several paper fragments shot out at once.
Different angles.
One straight.
One curved.
One sliding low along the ground.
Their edges sliced through the air with faint tearing sounds.
At the same moment—
he pressed forward.
Feet gliding across the ground.
A straight left punch followed.
A short burst of wind at the fist's edge.
Breath released between his teeth.
—
The fragments entered the one-meter range.
The air contracted sharply.
Threshold triggered.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Consecutive muffled impacts.
Not explosions—
collapses.
—
The fragments ignited before reaching the impact point.
Edges blackened.
Flames ran along the paper surfaces.
The smell of burning spread.
Ash scattered.
—
But the punch did not stop.
It pierced through the fading shockwave—
striking 77's shoulder.
A dull impact.
Muscles trembled.
Bone registered the hit.
77's upper body shifted slightly.
Shoulder line displaced.
His heel did not move.
—
The second punch followed immediately.
Struck the ribs.
Air forced out in a low sound.
No detonation triggered.
No response from his ability.
—
A slight movement at No. 33's lips.
"Oh, right."
Flat voice.
He stepped back half a pace.
Eyes scanning the air around 77—
as if measuring.
"So your ability is only for defense."
No emotion.
"Then let's do this directly."
—
He moved again.
Feet sliding low.
Dust lifted from the ground.
Closing distance.
—
Punches followed in rapid succession.
Left straight.
Right hook.
Elbow sweep.
Each strike clean and compact.
Power delivered—then withdrawn cleanly.
Muscles tightened at impact.
Air produced dull bursts.
—
77 raised his arms to block.
Forearms met fists.
Bone vibrated.
Numbness shot up his arms into his shoulders.
A punch landed on his abdomen.
Air forced out.
A low sound escaped his throat.
—
He stepped back half a step.
Sole scraping the ground.
Then stabilized.
Shoulders dropped.
He countered.
A straight punch toward No. 33's chest.
—
No. 33 shifted aside.
Cloth brushed the air.
Distance widened for a moment—
then closed again.
—
Their footwork crossed.
Dust accelerated within the light beams.
—
No. 33's breathing grew heavier.
Chest rising more visibly.
Yet his movements did not break.
If anything—his rhythm became steadier.
—
He spoke suddenly.
"The power of the legs compared to the fists?"
His voice was clear.
Not rushed.
He answered himself.
"About three times."
—
Before the words finished—
his leg had already risen.
Hip driving the motion.
Core engaged.
Knee folded.
Lower leg snapped out like a whip.
A horizontal sweep.
Air split with a sharp sound.
—
It struck 77's outer thigh.
A dull impact.
Muscle shuddered.
A blunt pain spread through the nerves.
His balance wavered.
—
77 stepped back twice.
Heels scraping the ground.
Dust lifting.
—
The second kick followed.
A low sweep.
Targeting the side of the knee.
Bone vibration was immediate.
The joint lost strength for a moment.
—
77 dropped to one knee.
Palm pressed to the ground.
Cold cracks against his skin.
Rough texture biting into flesh.
—
He held his breath.
Shoulders tightened.
Legs forced upward—
he stood again.
Not smooth—
but stable.
—
Sweat slid along his temple.
Down to his jaw.
Dropped to the ground.
—
No. 33 moved lightly.
Closing in again.
His kicks were precise.
Front kick—straight line.
Side kick—horizontal sweep.
Downward strike—vertical drop.
Each carried full hip rotation.
Force transmitted completely.
The air vibrated faster.
—
77 responded with a basic kick.
Not high.
Direct.
Slightly slow.
—
It struck No. 33's lower leg.
A dull sound.
His body swayed for a moment.
Muscles tightened—
then corrected instantly.
—
A fist came from the side.
Struck 77's cheekbone.
His vision shifted slightly.
A ringing filled his ears.
The air seemed to vanish.
His breathing lost rhythm for a beat.
—
Time stretched.
Impacts echoed.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Walls returned the sound.
Dust fell—then lifted again.
—
77 went down.
His back hit the ground.
Air burst from his lungs.
His chest rose sharply.
Cold seeped through his clothes—
spreading along his spine.
—
He rolled.
Palm pressed to the ground.
Fingers whitening with force.
—
He stood again.
—
His knees trembled.
But he did not step back.
—
No. 33's gaze tightened.
Sweat dripped from his chin.
Hit the ground.
—
He advanced again.
A leg strike dropped down—
hitting the shoulder.
77 tilted sideways.
Arm braced.
Elbow scraped against the ground.
Skin torn.
Rough surface peeling the outer layer.
A fine sting spread.
—
He stood again.
Breathing heavy.
Chest rising violently.
Vision slightly blurred.
—
No. 33 suddenly stopped in front of him.
Less than half a meter away.
He raised his hand.
Fingers aligned.
Joints locked.
—
A thrust forward.
—
Fingertips struck the forehead.
Skin split.
A dull sound.
Blood seeped out.
Warmth spread instantly.
Down the temple.
Across the brow.
Into the eye.
—
Vision turned red.
Sharp pain surged.
Tears welled reflexively.
Mixed with blood.
Dripping down his face.
—
77 breathed heavily.
Throat dry.
Blood flooded his eye.
Light became blurred patches.
—
But he remained standing.
—
His body swayed.
Shoulder line tilted—
then barely stabilized.
—
Drops of blood hit the ground.
One.
Another.
The sound was faint—
but clear.
—
Ten minutes earlier—
a distant explosion had been heard.
Through layers of floors.
Reaching the old building.
Low.
Short.
The walls had trembled slightly.
Dust shaken loose.
—
Now—
a window on the top floor suddenly opened.
The frame slammed against the wall.
A sharp sound.
Cold air rushed in.
Airflow shifted.
Dust lifted.
Temperature dropped instantly.
—
A figure leapt down from above.
Falling vertically through the air.
Clothes fluttering.
—
Upon landing—
knees bent slightly.
Feet touched ground.
—
No heavy impact.
No cracking sound.
Like stepping on cotton.
—
The ground did not stir dust.
—
But the air—
tightened again.