Kenji (3)

I turned back to Yushiro, my eyes wide with skepticism. Beside me, Taka's gaze mirrored my own—stunned disbelief painted across his face. Yushiro's grin widened, clearly entertained by our reaction.

"The Division Knights are the strongest warriors in the Empire," he said casually. "They ride dragons, battle monsters, and take on enemies that would make most people piss themselves." His eyes glinted with amusement. "And right now, you're about to fight a Captain."

I gritted my teeth, silently adding another mark to the growing list of reasons to punch Yushiro later.

"That…" He paused for dramatic effect, then enunciated each word with mocking precision. "Is. The. Captain."

The old man standing before me smirked, his expression a silent challenge. Back down or step up. My hesitation melted away, replaced by something sharper—excitement. A slow grin stretched across my face.

"I'm not holding back," I declared.

The captain's brow arched slightly, his smirk deepening.

I pushed my Hashi into motion. The Hashi surged forward, flaring through my body, amplifying my speed and strength. The world sharpened—sounds, scents, every detail crystal clear. I rushed toward the old man my blade sliced through the air in a fierce overhead arc.

The captain barely moved.

With an effortless flick of his spear, he parried my strike, the impact sending a sharp vibration up my arms. I gritted my teeth and attacked again, my sword slashing in rapid succession. Each strike met the same result—parried, deflected, dismissed.

His movements were fluid, precise. He was as good as Ray.

I feinted left, then lunged with a thrust aimed at his stomach. He blocked it like it was nothing.

Old bastard's good.

I leapt back, frustration simmering beneath my skin. My Hashi control was still rough, but I could push harder. I channeled more energy into my blade—it gained weight, a subtle shift in its balance. The captain watched me with disinterest.

"You have no talent in swordsmanship," he said bluntly.

I scowled. "Yeah? So what?"

"Then why do you use the sword?"

"None of your damn business, old man."

His smirk twitched. "Old man?"

I lunged again, putting everything into my strike. My sword cut through the air—only to hit empty space.

A split second later, something slammed into my chest. The world blurred as I was thrown backward, my body skidding across the ground.

Damn it.

I rolled back onto my feet, already charging forward again. I wasn't going to make the same mistake.

"You're naïve," the captain said flatly.

His spear thrust forward—faster than I could see. A searing pain lanced through my side as the tip nicked my skin. I barely managed to bring my sword up in defense.

Shit!

I braced myself to draw more Hashi, but before I could, Taka intervened. He blocked the captain's strikes, his movements controlled but strained. He wasn't fast enough to stop them all. Thin cuts formed along his arms and torso, though he barely flinched.

The old man finally halted, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed—bored, unimpressed.

Taka stepped back, ignoring the blood seeping from his wounds. "That's enough," he said, voice firm.

The captain tilted his head. "Oh? And who are you to decide that?"

Before we could react, he moved.

The spear flew toward us. Taka barely ducked in time, but the attack had been a distraction. In the next instant, the captain was on him. A sharp clap to the ear, a swift kick to the calf, a brutal knee to the face—then he grabbed Taka's head and slammed him into the ground.

He's too fast!

I moved, ready to strike, but something small whizzed past me—a rock. It hit the captain's hand just as he reached for Taka's katana.

A gentle voice sliced through the air.

"Sorry. Can't let you touch that," Yushiro said, stepping forward.

The onlookers—Truth and his group—watched with a mixture of surprise and anticipation.

The captain didn't even glance at them. "Doesn't matter," he said nonchalantly. "I can handle all three of you."

Yushiro grinned. "Sounds interesting."