TAG YOU'RE IT

They all charged forward, spreading out to create space for their movements.

The sleeved boy and the pink-haired girl attacked in unison, aiming for the instructor's head and legs.

In an instant, he crouched low and then pivoted into a one-handed stance, lifting his body slightly into the air.

Their strikes missed completely as he evaded with practised ease, landing gracefully and hopping back to create distance.

Another fighter lunged with a punch aimed at his torso.

With a subtle swerve to the right, the instructor dodged and maintained his balance.

Before he could recover,an attack came from the side-a strike aimed directly at his core.

Flowing seamlessly with the motion, the instructor rolled over the boy's arm, caught him by the collar, and flung him into another combatant, rushing toward them.

Two kicks flew toward him from opposite directions, perfectly timed to hit simultaneously.

Dropping into a low crouch, he avoided the strikes entirely, causing the attackers to collide with each other mid-air.

Capitalizing on their moment of vulnerability, he delivered a rapid double kick to their faces, sending them sprawling.

Two more punches came at him, one an uppercut and the other a downward strike. With a quick hop and a mid-air spin, he angled his body just right to evade both attacks. Landing lightly, he shifted back into a ready stance, his movements fluid and precise, as if he were performing a choreographed dance rather than a chaotic battle.

He landed, hopping slightly to dodge one attack, then spun midair to evade another. With precision, he kicked one opponent into the sky.

Grabbing another by the collar, he threw him overhead, sending him crashing down

Quickly hopping back, he avoided an attack from above, but then, all five opponents struck at once, aiming at vulnerable points to destabilize his movements.

He dodged three, but two hit him at the same time-one to his face and the other to his torso. He blocked with his hands, feeling the force of the impact.

It wasn't a clean hit, but it rattled him.

He intended to retaliate with a punch, but one opponent dodged and positioned himself behind, landing a hit to his back. Reacting quickly, the instructor spun backwards, aiming to sweep the kid off his feet.

But the boy jumped and, like before, adjusted his position midair, evading the move .

"What did he just do?" The instructor thought, but before he could process, the boy launched a spinning kick toward him. He raised his arms in defence, blocking the strike as he landed

His hands were still on the ground to stabilize himself.

The instructor used his legs to swipe at the boy's feet, but the kid nimbly hopped up to avoid the strike.

"How did he copy that?" The instructor was momentarily stunned, but the boy wasted no time, launching himself forward again. This time, the instructor blocked a knee jab but then had to bend backwards to dodge a kick aimed at his defensive hands.

With the kick missing, the instructor's body spun to maintain balance. His leg, now planted on the floor, shot a backwards kick. The boy blocked it but was pushed back, giving the instructor a brief moment to recover.

Seeing an opening, Neto, the boy, charged forward in a zigzag motion :right, left, right-moving fast but carefully. Instead of closing in for a punch, he dove to the ground, using one hand to anchor himself and launching a sideways kick.

The instructor crouched, narrowly avoiding the kick. But before he could react, Neto supported himself with the other hand and kicked again, this time lower.

At first, it seemed like a normal kick ,a standard strike that would be blocked by the instructor's hand.

But this was a Brazilian kick, and Neto's timing was flawless.

The kick curved midair, swerving upward with blinding speed, bypassing the instructor's guard, and then coming back down toward his neck.

The instructor didn't have time to react; the strike hit cleanly, knocking him off balance and shattering his concentration.

Neto, with his leg still in the air, smiled and said, "I hit you."

°°°°°°°°°°°°

"Nice, that was good," the instructor said, a small smile playing on his lips. "But you took me on alone afterwards. You didn't use teamwork to land that hit—you did it on your own."

The class stood in stunned silence, their awe palpable. Neto's display of skill had left everyone amazed, his ability to replicate the instructor's complex technique almost effortlessly a clear sign of his talent.

The instructor's thoughts lingered on the boy's performance. 'That kick… it's incredibly difficult to perfect, even for seasoned fighters. Yet this kid copied it after seeing it just once. What a prodigy.' His gaze shifted toward Neto, who stood confidently, his expression calm and uncaring.

'If I'd allowed the use of energy techniques, he would have been an immense threat', the instructor mused.' I might have even needed to use my own energy just to defend myself. His precision and adaptability are extraordinary.

Still, using such precise movements on a Beast… that's a whole different challenge.'

"That kick was awesome, dude!" one of the students exclaimed

"Yeah, how'd you even learn it?" Another chimed in, curiosity lighting up their face

"My dad taught me," Neto replied his tone even.

"That's cool!"

But Neto's calm expression flickered as the chatter around him grew louder, gnawing at his mental defences. He clenched his fists briefly, muttering under his breath, "Hah... so noisy."

In the back of his mind, the voices surged, dark and relentless:

- Why didn't you use your energy to crush his skull? -

- You could kill him with ease. -

- There are so many people here....so much blood to spill. -

- There is so much flesh to rip apart. -

A laughter echoed in his mind, jagged and discordant, like nails scraping against metal. It wasn't just a sound; it felt alive, twisting and crawling through his thoughts, leaving behind a chill that made his skin crawl like it always did.

Neto shut his eyes tightly, his internal voice pushing back.

'So noisy, Shut it.

I can't kill anyone here.'

He glanced at the instructor standing tall and composed. 'That man... he could probably take me on even if Il went all out. Trying to kill him would cost me an arm or worse.'

Grinding his teeth, he muttered to himself, "Tch. I'm following them again."

°°°°°°°°°

The instructor crossed his arms, his sharp gaze sweeping across the group. "You're all talented, but apart from those five," he gestured briefly to the standout students, "the rest of you couldn't even scratch my clothes. That's bad."

A murmur rippled through the class, and he continued, "I was planning to train you in fighting today, but I've changed my mind. Let's see how well you can survive instead. Can you escape a Beast hunting you?"

The air grew tense.

"A Beast hunting us? What does that mean?" one student asked hesitantly, his voice tinged with unease.

"Wait, is he seriously gonna bring out a Beast to chase us?" Another chimed in, wide-eyed.

"Ack!" someone exclaimed, clutching their nose. "My nose freaking hurts!"

The tension broke for a moment as some turned to the source of the complaint, but the instructor didn't waver, his expression unreadable.

"If a real Beast came, you'd all be down in minutes," the instructor said bluntly, his tone cutting through the nervous chatter. "But don't worry. Today's 'Beast' isn't an actual monster.

It's No. 5: Neto Amari."

The group turned to Neto, their faces a mixture of shock and dread

"Me?" Neto asked, pointing at himself. "What am I supposed to do? Kill them?"

The instructor smirked. "No. You're just going to chase them down. Think of it like a game of tag, except you're 'it' forever."

'And what happens to the ones i catch?"

Neto tilted his head slightly, his tone almost too casual. "Do I kill them then?"

The instructor's smirk widened. "No ,you're just going to beat the crap out of them."

Whispers broke out among the students, panic spreading quickly.

"Why does he want to kill us so badly? Has he killed before?"

"We're being hunted down by that guy? Isn't it better if a real Beast comes at us? At least we'd have a chance of winning.

"We're so doomed,' someone muttered, their voice trembling

Neto stood silently, his sharp eyes scanning the group.

The unease in the air thickened as they realized this wasn't just a game it was survival training, and they were the prey.

"Rules: use of energy is allowed, but no abilities only reinforcement," the instructor announced, his tone firm yet amused. His eyes shifted to Neto. "As for you, Neto, you're not allowed to use any abilities at all, not even reinforcement."

The class exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of the rules settling over them.

The instructor's smile widened. "You all may start running."

The students hesitated for a moment before breaking into a frantic scramble, the instructor's grin lingering like a shadow over their growing panic.

"It will be unneeded," Neto muttered under his breath.

Turning to face the class, who had already scattered to put some distance between themselves and him, he spoke in a low, commanding voice. "Run."

As the word left his mouth, his foot was already crashing into someone's face.

"Shit, my nose again!" the student groaned, clutching his face in pain.

The training room was large, but it wasn't an open field. The students couldn't just stick to the walls and wait for it to end. They had no choice but to keep running—dashing around, trying to stay one step ahead.

Neto's speed, though seemingly slow when compared to the instructor, was now revealed in its full intensity. To the untrained eye, his movements might have appeared casual, almost effortless, but those with keen observation could catch brief glimpses of his true velocity

The problem, however, wasn't in seeing his movements-it was in reacting to them.

Regardless of their gender or size, Neto pummeled his classmates' faces with brutal efficiency, tossing them around like rag dolls.

Each strike was swift and relentless, leaving no room for anyone to recover. They couldn't react in time, no matter how hard they tried .

Most of the students hadn't learned energy reinforcement , and even those that learnt, few had low mastery of it. Many relied solely on their abilities, while those who had put in the effort to learn never truly bothered to perfect their skills. This lack of dedication and practice became evident in the chaos that unfolded.

A fist, crackling with energy, came straight for him. Without missing a beat, Neto caught the punch mid-air, his grip steady as the energy coursed around his hand.

Only the four who could keep up with the instructor were able to see the full extent of his speed and skill.

Surprisingly, with him, it was different.

After dodging the strike, Neto realized the opponents were so fast that he only managed to evade at the very instant he felt the pressure of the attack.

"Hm... Intriguing."

A twisted grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "I guess I'll increase my speed."

With that, he swung his fist sideways, sending one of them flying away with a resounding impact.

He then paused, holding his neck while tilting it slightly, a faint crack echoing as he loosened the tension.

"I guess I might break a few bones while at it." His voice was laced with an eerie amusement, a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

He looked less like a student and more like a demon unleashed something from the deepest pits of hell.

His grin deepened, the unsettling smile of someone who thrived in chaos and destruction.