CHAPTER-22

Ishigo's breath came out in ragged gasps. He wasn't attacking. Not yet. He wasn't running either. He was calculating.His feet slid across the cold training floor in rhythm—small, precise steps, timed with each pulse in his neck. His katana trembled slightly in his grip—not from fear, but restraint. Control.

Across from him, the holographic kageshiki stood still, its red-glowing joints pulsing like veins. It didn't blink. Didn't hesitate. Didn't breathe. Unlike him.

It lunged. A sharp, digital hiss cut through the air.

Ishigo twisted his body to the side, the katana just brushing past his jacket as the blade whooshed past him. The dodge was clean, almost lazy, but his expression remained sharp. Cold sweat traced a line down his cheek, but he didn't flinch.

His gray eyes followed every twitch of the construct's body, analyzing. Looking for delay patterns. Weak joints. Wire clusters.

He didn't need to overpower it. He just had to out-think it.

"Don't kill me," he whispered under his breath, but there was no panic in his tone—just a low, bitter self-jab.Weakness disguised as calm. Fear disguised as logic.For once, that fear wasn't directed at the kageshiki. It was aimed inward.

If Daigo was here... he'd be charging forward like a lunatic.Ishigo gritted his teeth. He hated how Daigo never second-guessed himself. Always in control. Always three steps ahead.Ishigo used to be like that. Before the mistakes. Before the fallout.

But right now, he didn't have the luxury of doubt.

The kageshiki's blade came again—fast. A blur of silver light. Ishigo stepped back half a pace, pivoted, and let it slice through empty space. The wind off the strike tugged at his clothes. He didn't blink.

Then a voice echoed inside his head.

"Why are you running like a coward? Attack me."

His jaw clenched. Coward. The word hit harder than the construct's blade ever could.

"I'm not a coward," Ishigo hissed. Louder this time. Real.His grip on his katana tightened until his knuckles turned white. His stance shifted. Low. Grounded. Focused.

He wasn't dodging anymore. He was done calculating.

With a shout, he charged. His blade carved through the space between them. The kageshiki flickered and vanished—just pixels where it had been.

"Damn it!" he growled, grinding his heels into the floor as he stopped short. The blade sang in his grip as it met only air.

Then he froze. He could feel it—the shift in air pressure. His brain screamed a warning.

Behind.

He turned, twisting on instinct. His katana flashed upward, meeting the incoming strike with a deafening clang.Steel collided. Sparks flew. The force of the blow rattled up his arms, but he held strong.

The red core wire—the kageshiki's heart—was exposed for half a second.

He struck. Clean. Direct. The wire snapped in two.

The construct twitched violently, then shattered into floating fragments of light, glitching out of the air with a dying hum.

Ishigo stood still, shoulders rising and falling with every breath.

His badge buzzed faintly. The interface blinked:LEVEL: 0(12)Power surged up his spine, hot and sharp, knitting torn muscle and clearing fog from his mind.

"…Cool," he muttered, almost surprised. A smirk tugged at the edge of his lips—not arrogant. Not smug.Just a silent, personal nod. He wasn't that kid anymore—the one hiding behind Daigo, always thinking instead of moving.

Another kageshiki appeared to his left. Then another. Two-on-one.Ishigo didn't panic.

His mind snapped into gear—angles, timing, collision paths. He ducked low as one swiped overhead, spun under the second's slash, and used the momentum to vault backward.

Mid-air, his eyes caught a flicker of light. A shoulder joint exposed—barely.

There.

He shifted the blade in his hand and twisted his body, sword slicing out in a tight arc.

The katana bit through the joint like it was paper. Sparks exploded. The first construct collapsed.

Ishigo landed hard, skidding across the floor, but didn't stop. He was already moving.

The second kageshiki struck down. He raised his blade and caught it. Sparks again. But this time, the construct pressed harder.

Ishigo's feet scraped backward as he held the clash, muscles screaming.

Then, a flash of memory—Reika's fight from earlier. She had used misdirection.He dropped low, using his opponent's weight against it, and drove his sword into its leg instead of the core.

The kageshiki staggered. Exposed.

One clean upward slash and its head detached in a burst of glitch and light.

Silence.

Only his breathing filled the space.

Then, the voice came—cold and flat. "Congratulations, Ishigo Nakano. You have been selected for the test."

Ishigo lowered his sword, sweat dripping from his chin. He didn't react to the announcement. Not really.

Because that voice didn't matter.

The real test had already happened—in his mind.

He had stepped into the arena with doubt. With fear.Now, he felt neither.

He didn't need to fight like Daigo. He didn't need to show off.He just needed to win his way.

He adjusted his glasses, eyes gleaming with sharp focus.

This was only the beginning.