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Chapter — The Blade That No Longer Trembles
The buildings seemed larger than usual.
The roads, tangled like a gigantic labyrinth, gave the impression that one could wander through them forever. Suspended in midair, they formed complex patterns, never intersecting, defying all logic.
The cold wind blew without respite.
It sent shivers crawling up the spine, slowly climbing vertebra by vertebra.
On one of these ground-level routes, a transport truck lay overturned—destroyed, resting on its side.
Facing it stood a slim, elegant man, the very image of a perfect gentleman. His cape fluttered in the icy wind.
Opposite him:
an individual wearing a rabbit mask marked with the number 9, a rapier in hand, a cat's tail swaying behind him.
He was slightly shorter than the man—barely more than half his height.
The standoff was set.
The promise of an inevitable battle.
The caped hero, ranked A-class, spoke first:
"Justice always strikes.
We hold the advantage. Your leader is already in our hands… and she is the only one who truly matters.
Shouldn't you be freeing her, rather than fighting me?"
Nine remained serious.
Very serious.
Not a trace of his usual mockery.
"It's true… the princess is important. Maybe even very important.
But that changes nothing."
He raised his blade slightly.
"I came to reclaim the treasure you once took from the other two.
So don't resist. Surrender… before you're humiliated."
The hero sighed, surprised, but accepted the challenge.
Inside Nine, however, the calm was only a façade.
[She really got caught… unbelievable…]
[I want to panic. To hide in a tiny little hole. Like before.]
He held his rapier—far too large for his small hands—with a single hand.
He raised it, the tip aimed at his opponent. His other arm stayed behind his back.
[What was it she used to say again?]
[The answer… to all my questions…]
He took a deep breath.
[All my brothers are like that. All of them—except me.]
[Look at my hands… I can barely hold a blade properly.]
A voice echoed in his memory.
[Then you'll be the exception that proves the rule.]
[You have hands. So you can wield the blades of your family.]
He took his attack stance.
[Why do I have to train with this oversized sword, with the wrong hand?]
[You're male, and you're freaking out like a little girl over such a detail?]
[You carry the blood of the swordsman who dances with the blade… and you flee from steel?]
In an instant, Nine lunged.
The blades collided.
[I'll only tell you this once.]
[You're sad and pathetic.]
[Two choices: die… or stop hiding.]
His blade sliced through the air.
The hero barely had time to turn—the tip was already aimed at his skull.
He narrowly avoided the strike.
A few strands of his long blond hair were severed.
He pivoted 180 degrees to counterattack.
Nine dodged with a twist of his torso, then struck again.
Parry. Deflection.
Their feet touched the ground at the same time.
Another burst of movement.
Another clash.
A rain of rapid blows followed, their rapiers colliding again and again, neither gaining a clear advantage.
Within this ballet of steel, Nine's mind cleared.
[My true objective…]
["La Casa Blanca."]
[That's the magical artifact I have to retrieve.]
[This guy won't be easy to get past…]
[And time is running out.]
Suddenly, Nine leapt backward, gaining several meters.
Then he straightened.
He removed the scabbard from his sword—
it transformed into white bandages.
The bandages detached, floated in the air, then wrapped around his arm, covering his forearm entirely, layer after layer, almost fusing with the blade itself.
He attacked.
A fast strike. Direct. Brutal.
The hero hadn't anticipated such power.
He dodged by pure instinct, tilting his head slightly.
At once, he spun and struck downward to repel Nine.
The air itself was cleaved apart.
Another clash.
This time, the ground fractured into small square patterns beneath their feet.
Carried by the momentum, Nine slid, spun, and struck violently from below.
The hero was launched into the air.
Nine followed.
Midair, the hero attempted a parry.
But Nine seized his blade with both hands.
He struck.
The impact slammed the hero into the ground with a thunderous crash.
Nine followed through, blade pointed toward the earth, whispering:
"Breathe once for me… breathe every time for me…
you who forever caress my fur."
He traced a wide arc.
"O my eternal companion…
the wind of every day."
A storm erupted.
Debris, violent gusts, crushing pressure.
The hero's senses were overwhelmed.
Nine vanished… then reappeared behind him.
A single strike.
The hero was hurled away, rebounding off the safety barriers of the road before collapsing heavily.
Unconscious.
Blood trickling from his mouth.
Nine exhaled slowly.
In his hand was a small cube, barely larger than a coin.
He activated his Kitsune Form once more, rising into the air.
Through his mask, he sent a message:
"I'm requesting the exfiltration location."
An immediate reply:
"No. Send it to the others."
"That'll be for later. For you."
With a flick of his hand, Nine threw the cube—La Casa Blanca—into the sky, in another direction, then disappeared.
Later, gloved hands retrieved the object.
"La Casa Blanca."
The hero weakly opened his eyes.
[I'm growing weaker, master…]
[My blade suffers…]
[I made the gravest mistake.]
[I was satisfied. I chose the easy path.]
[That kid… his heart still wavers.]
[He doesn't know himself yet…]
[And I…]
[I forgot myself.]
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