Moshi drew in a slow, deliberate breath, his composure untouched, as though the incoming strike held no weight in his perception, and in the very instant the attack closed the final gap.
WHOOSH!
He disappeared.
There was no distortion, no spatial shift, only raw, overwhelming speed. It was not teleportation, but something far more immediate, a physical acceleration so absolute it erased his presence from the eye. In the next heartbeat, he stood before Balbin, having crossed the very distance Balbin had intended to close himself, the suddenness of it leaving no room for adjustment, no space to redirect momentum already committed.
Moshi's body dipped low, his posture compressing like a coiled beast, the motion reminiscent of a boar lowering itself before the charge, every muscle tightening into a single point of release, and then, with ruthless precision and a fury held just beneath the surface, he drove his fist upward into Balbin's chest.
A deep, searing red flared across his knuckles to his his elbow, heat radiating violently from his skin as though forged within a furnace, the intensity of it distorting the air itself, and the strain etched across his face made it evident that this was no casual blow but the full expression of his force, every ounce of power driven forward without reservation.
BOOM!
The impact landed with a momentary suspension, as though the world itself paused to acknowledge it, before releasing its full brutality. Balbin's chest jolted violently, a sharp flare of yellow flashing across it for the briefest instant, like something beneath the surface had resisted rupture at the final moment, and then the force erupted outward, a compressed shockwave tearing through the air behind him in a violent line.
He was launched.
His body tore across the arena, momentum unrestrained, slamming into the stone with punishing force, rebounding again and again as each collision sent cracks splintering outward.
THUD! THUD!
The ground fractured beneath him with every impact, the violence of it echoing across the field as he was dragged toward the edge of the arena, his control all but stripped away. At the final moment, instinct seized what remained of his coordination, and his fist drove down into the ground with desperate force.
CRACK!
The stone shattered beneath the strike, halting his motion abruptly as the force dispersed through the fractured surface. He dropped to one knee, his body folding into the stop, one hand bracing his weight while the other remained buried deep within the broken stone. The strain carved itself across his features, blood spilling freely from his ears, his nose, his mouth, trailing down onto the fractured ground beneath him in steady lines that spoke plainly of the punishment he had endured.
His vision fractured with it, clarity slipping in and out of reach as the world blurred, sharpened, then dimmed again, as though reality itself could not settle on a single form. A piercing ring flooded his ears, sharp and unrelenting, drowning out all else until even the sensation of his own body felt distant, reduced to a heavy, crushing pressure that burned from within rather than pain in any familiar sense.
For a fleeting moment, his consciousness wavered, the edge of darkness pressing close enough to claim him, yet something in him resisted. Slowly, with visible strain, he forced in a breath, dragging it into lungs that resisted the act, and lifted his head despite the quiet violence of his own muscles protesting the movement.
A figure stood before him.
At first it was nothing more than a distortion within his fractured sight, its outline trembling, shifting, before gradually stabilizing into something recognizable as it approached with measured ease.
Akasora Moshi.
His focus tightened, though only slightly, his breathing uneven, splintered, each inhale carrying the weight of the damage sustained.
What… was that attack…? The thought surfaced slowly, heavier now, burdened by realization. If I hadn't used my Titan Hardening… the damage would have been irreparable.
The ringing intensified, high-pitched and ceaseless, consuming the space around him until even his own thoughts struggled to take shape. His body refused to respond, not out of paralysis but because the signals themselves seemed lost beneath the overwhelming distortion. The absence of conventional pain only made it worse; instead, there was that crushing internal weight, a heat that burned without flame, pressing inward from every direction.
Moshi continued forward, his lips moving as he spoke, yet the words failed to reach him, lost within the relentless ringing. His form flickered in Balbin's vision, appearing and vanishing in uneven intervals as his eyes struggled to remain open, the effort alone threatening to drag him back into unconsciousness.
Then, faintly, something broke through.
"…dare…"
The fragment surfaced, distorted, incomplete, forcing its way past the noise. Balbin blinked hard, his vision stuttering as he fought to anchor himself, his head shifting slightly despite the resistance of his own body.
"…smile…"
The pieces began to align, the ringing receding just enough to allow clarity to return in fragments, the voice sharpening as it drew closer, until it stood directly before him.
"…I said I dare you to make that pathetic smile again."
The words settled fully this time, clear and cold, carrying a quiet edge of irritation, as though something as simple as that grin had crossed into insult.
Steam burst from his hand in violent surges, the skin flushed a deep, searing red that spread from his elbow down to the very tips of his fingers, the heat so intense it seemed to distort the air around it as though reality itself recoiled from contact.
"You know… I could feel it," he said at length, his tone measured yet edged with a quiet sharpness that carried far more weight than volume.
"The density of your skin, how it shields your organs… it was like striking into a chamber of quicksand the size of a room."
He raised the scalding hand before his face, presenting it without flourish, the gesture restrained yet unmistakable in its intent, a silent declaration that Balbin's efforts had amounted to nothing in the face of what stood before him, and his eyes remained devoid of sentiment, cold, observant, calculating, as they settled upon the battered figure struggling to remain upright. "But no matter how resilient you make yourself… my ability Akuma no Kobushi (Hand of the Devil), is indifferent to it."
A brief stillness followed, the words lingering with quiet finality before his posture shifted, lowering into something far more dangerous, the composure still present yet now sharpened into lethal intent, making it clear that he had no intention of ending the exchange there, not when Balbin had yet to truly experience the full extent of his anger.
"I won't waste words."
The heat gathered once more, swelling, intensifying, until it pressed outward into the arena itself, saturating the space with a suffocating pressure.
"Now… experience my full power."