Chapter-60 Cyborg Ichigo

Miles away, in a secluded, high-tech lair shrouded in shadows, Xaker leaned back in his ergonomic chair, a faint, self-satisfied smirk playing across his lips. The dim glow of countless holographic screens bathed his face in an eerie light, their translucent displays flickering with live feeds from the Forest of Death. The largest screen dominated the center of the room, projecting a crisp drone feed that tracked every movement of Kuro's team as they navigated the treacherous undergrowth. 

"So, you've survived this long, Kuro," Xaker murmured, his voice carrying a blend of amusement and curiosity. His fingers drummed rhythmically on the armrest, a soft, deliberate sound that matched the measured pace of his thoughts. "Let's see if you're still the James I remember. Let's see if you've truly changed… or if you're still the same predictable fool." 

His sharp eyes flicked toward another monitor, displaying three humanoid figures moving through the forest with mechanical precision. Saibogu Ichigō, Saibogu Nigō, and Saibogu Sangō—the Cerberus Children—were the culmination of years of experimentation and Xaker's dark genius. Their sleek, metallic frames reflected the faint glow of their crimson eyes, which pulsed rhythmically like a heartbeat. They were silent hunters, their movements fluid yet unnervingly precise, a perfect fusion of man and machine. 

"They're perfect," Xaker muttered, his tone tinged with pride as his gaze lingered on the cyborgs. His voice shifted, adopting a colder edge. "Perfect tools. And with the Cerberus Children, they'll draw out every ounce of your strength, Kuro. Or destroy you entirely." 

The lair hummed with the faint vibration of hidden machinery, and Xaker leaned forward, his smirk widening as he activated a secure comm channel. A faint beep confirmed the connection, and his voice took on a commanding tone. 

"Ichigō," he said, addressing the lead cyborg, who stopped mid-step, its head tilting slightly as if to listen. "Proceed with the mission. But don't kill him... not yet." 

The three cyborgs paused in unison, their glowing eyes flashing brighter as they received the command. Then, without a word, they resumed their silent advance, their steps barely disturbing the forest floor. The feed on Xaker's monitor zoomed in, capturing every detail of their meticulous movements. 

Xaker's smirk deepened as he leaned back once more, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. The room's holographic glow accentuated the sharp angles of his face, casting shadows that danced across the walls like restless phantoms. 

"This will be fun," he murmured, his voice dripping with anticipation. "Kuro, let's see just how far you've come. And let's see if you're ready to face the monsters I've created." 

His eyes shifted to another screen, where the faint outlines of other Genin teams stumbled through the forest, oblivious to the predators stalking among them. Xaker barely spared them a glance. They were insignificant pawns in the larger game unfolding before him. 

The lair's ambient hum grew quieter as Xaker settled into a state of focused observation. He watched the Cerberus Children disappear into the shadows of the forest, their forms blending seamlessly with the gloom. Kuro's team was still unaware of the threat closing in around them, but that would change soon enough. 

"And when it does," Xaker said softly, a cruel glint in his eyes, "I'll be watching." 

Kuro's team halted abruptly as a figure stepped from the dense shadows ahead, his presence like a ripple in the oppressive stillness of the Forest of Death. The very air around him seemed to hum with an unnatural energy, sharp and electric, sending a shiver of unease down their spines. 

This towering figure was unsettling. He looked perfectly human, almost flawlessly so. His skin was smooth, his features sharp and well-defined. He moved with a fluid grace that seemed almost too perfect, lacking the subtle imperfections of natural human movement. There was a faint, almost imperceptible hum that emanated from him, a low thrumming that vibrated in the air around him. Even his eyes, a deep, unnerving red, held a strange, unwavering intensity, like twin embers burning with an unnatural light. They fixed on Kuro with a focus that felt… wrong. It wasn't the color, exactly, but the way they didn't blink, didn't shift, held no flicker of human emotion. They were too still, too sharp, too knowing. It was in that gaze, more than anything else, that the truth of his nature was revealed: he was something more, or perhaps less, than human.

Xero instinctively moved his massive sword into a defensive position, his usual grin replaced by a look of wary excitement. Reika's hands tightened around her kunai, her sharp eyes analyzing every inch of the cyborg's form. 

"Who are you?" Kuro asked, stepping forward. His voice was calm, steady, though his every muscle was coiled with tension. 

The cyborg tilted his head slightly, a faint whir accompanying the motion. Then, his lips twisted into a mocking smile, one that didn't reach his glowing eyes. "Saibogu Ichigō," he said, his voice a chilling fusion of synthetic modulation and cold amusement however, it was perfectly human voice. Each syllable carried a weight of menace, as if spoken by a predator toying with its prey. "But you... You're James, aren't you?" 

The name hit Kuro like a bolt of lightning, a sudden jolt that froze him in place. His eyes narrowed, his breath catching for the briefest moment before his composure returned. "What did you just call me?" he demanded, his tone sharpening. 

Ichigo chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "James," he repeated, drawing out the name. "Or Kuro, whatever you prefer. Doesn't really matter what you call yourself, does it? What does matter is you're about to answer some questions. Assuming you live that long, of course."

Reika glanced at Kuro, confusion flashing across her face. James? Who's James? she thought, but she knew better than to voice the question now. 

Kuro's fists clenched, his mind racing. "Fire Fly's tech... That explains the cybernetics. But how the hell did you end up here?" His voice carried a mixture of anger and disbelief, though his body remained perfectly still, ready for whatever came next. 

Ichigō's smile widened, his expression one of twisted satisfaction. "Ah, so you recognize the handiwork. Good. That will make this easier." He raised his right arm, and with a series of sharp clicks and whirs, the metallic limb began to shift. Plates rearranged themselves with seamless precision, and within moments, his arm had transformed into a massive, gleaming blade.