Truth On Hold

The ruins trembled as heavy footsteps echoed through the dimly lit corridor. A chilling presence filled the air, causing a faint distortion around the Cube replica. The temperature seemed to drop, as if the very space around them was bending to accommodate the approaching figure.

Then, he stepped into view.

A towering figure cloaked in deep crimson robes, his face hidden beneath an ornate mask adorned with arcane engravings. His presence was suffocating—not just from power, but from sheer authority. The Old Man, the one who had been after the real Cube, had arrived.

His hollow, raspy voice cut through the silence. "Clever… very clever. You dare deceive me?"

Seko tightened his grip on his sword. "We dare a lot of things."

The Old Man's mask tilted slightly as if observing them, unimpressed. "You think you are prepared? You think I have not seen such arrogance before?" His fingers twitched, and the very air cracked with unseen energy. "You are but children playing with forces beyond your grasp."

Kiyomi's smirk widened. "That's what makes it fun."

Without another word, the Old Man raised his hand. A violent surge of energy burst outward, the sheer force sending shockwaves through the ruins. The ground cracked beneath them.

But they were ready.

Atama activated his new and improved suit, a pulse of blue energy surrounding him. He moved first, vanishing in a blink and reappearing above the Old Man, aiming a crushing punch downward.

Seko lunged forward, his Composite Sword gleaming as he slashed through the air, aiming for their foe's core.

Lyvona cracked her knuckles once more before propelling herself forward with monstrous force, aiming a devastating blow to his ribs.

Satoshi remained behind for a moment, his lips moving in silent prayer before channeling his energy into a glowing sigil, preparing to disrupt any counterattacks.

Ella spun her spear, leaping into the fray with deadly precision, her movements fluid and controlled.

Violet, however, did nothing. Arms crossed, he remained exactly where he stood, exhaling softly.

Then, as the Old Man raised his hand to counter, Violet finally moved.

In a single instant, he was gone.

A gust of wind—

And then—

CRACK! Multiple spiky mangroves pierce the cheek of The Old man.

The Old Man staggered backward, a fresh impact crater in the stone where he once stood. Blood trickled from a small cut on his mask, the first sign of real damage.

Violet was behind him now, standing effortlessly, hands in his pockets. He exhaled, as if unimpressed. "You talk too much."

The Old Man turned his head slightly, a low chuckle escaping him. "Ah… an S-Class indeed." His voice was amused, almost entertained. "Perhaps this will be more interesting than I thought."

The battle had truly begun.

The Old Man steadied himself, the cut on his mask already closing with unnatural speed. His amusement didn't fade, but his stance shifted—he was taking them seriously now.

Violet, still exuding his usual nonchalance, lifted a hand. The air around him shimmered as countless vines, petals, and thorns began to sprout from the cracks in the stone. A thick, vibrant mass of flora surged forward, twisting unnaturally as if alive with a will of its own.

The Old Man's eyes flickered beneath his mask. "Flora manipulation?" He let out a scoff. "You think mere plants will—"

Before he could finish, a razor-sharp tendril lashed out, slashing across his arm. Another vine erupted from the ground, wrapping around his ankle, dragging him back before he could counter.

Violet tilted his head. "Not just plants."

In an instant, the flowers in bloom twisted into something menacing—blossoms with needle-like petals, vines pulsing with a toxic glow. A soft pink petal drifted onto the Old Man's shoulder, and within seconds, it burned through his robes like acid.

He hissed, yanking the petal off before more latched onto him. His movements grew rigid. "Poison?" His voice was strained now. "Interesting."

Violet sighed dramatically, watching as more vines coiled toward his opponent. "If it makes you feel any better, it's a rare poison. Slow-acting, painful, irreversible." His violet eyes gleamed with amusement. "You should feel honored."

The Old Man clenched his fists, the dark energy around him intensifying. His voice, though strained from the creeping poison, remained eerily composed.

"I must thank you… for leaking your ability."

Violet's smirk faltered slightly, his eyes narrowing. The vines constricting the Old Man twitched for a moment—just long enough.

In a flash, an unseen force surged outward. A shockwave of raw, unfiltered energy tore through the ruins, shattering the vines and flowers, scattering petals like blood across the battlefield. The poisoned tendrils withered instantly, severed from Violet's control.

Kiyomi, watching from the side, smirked. "Huh. He makes it look elegant after all."

Seko sighed, gripping his sword. "Don't encourage him. You might be stronger, but he is much smarter."

Violet, unfazed, dusted off his sleeves. "Smart? No. I just don't need to hold back anymore."

The ground beneath them trembled as new, monstrous flora erupted—taller, denser, more lethal. A jungle of death, shifting and breathing at Violet's command.

The Old Man straightened his posture, rolling his shoulders as the last remnants of Violet's vines crumbled to dust. His aura darkened, the very air turning heavy, suffocating. The battlefield, which had once bent to Violet's will, now seemed to reject him entirely.

Then, it happened.

A single strike.

Faster than anyone could react, the Old Man vanished from sight—then reappeared right in front of Violet.

A deafening crack echoed through the ruins.

Violet's body jerked violently as the Old Man's palm slammed into his chest, an invisible force detonating from the impact. The ground beneath them shattered, a crater forming instantly.

For a split second, silence.

Then, Violet was gone—his body rocketed across the battlefield like a meteor, crashing through stone pillars before slamming into the farthest wall. Dust and debris exploded outward, leaving behind nothing but the aftermath of a devastating, single-shot defeat.

Ella's breath hitched. "W-What—"

Kiyomi's smirk disappeared. Lyvona took a sharp step forward, fists clenched. Satoshi froze mid-prayer, his expression twisting in disbelief.

Violet, the strongest among them, the one they never had to worry about… had been taken out in an instant.

Only two remained unmoved.

Atama, already analyzing. Seko, already gripping his sword.

"Tch," Seko muttered, his dark eyes locked onto the Old Man. "Figures. Strength means nothing if you don't see it coming."

Atama exhaled, flexing his fingers as the circuits in his suit pulsed with energy. "Looks like we're next."

The Old Man turned toward them slowly, his masked face unreadable. "Now… where were we?"

Atama barely blinked. Without hesitation, he lifted his arm, his suit whirring as energy surged through its circuits. With complete nonchalance, he fired.

A blast erupted from his cannon—a massive beam of condensed energy that tore through the battlefield, engulfing the Old Man in a blinding explosion. The force of the attack sent shockwaves rippling outward, shaking the ruins.

At the exact moment the blast landed, Seko moved.

With precise, calculated movements, he guided the group to a safer position, pushing them out of the blast zone before they could even process what was happening.

By the time the attack faded, the battlefield was cloaked in smoke and debris.

Seko reappeared beside Atama, his Composite Sword resting on his shoulder. His eyes flickered toward the settling dust before speaking, his tone neutral.

"Well, that looked effective."

Atama rolled his shoulders. "Yeah. Looked."

A sudden gust of wind blew away the smoke, revealing the Old Man—standing completely still, untouched. The ground beneath him was obliterated, but his body remained unmoved, as if Atama's attack had never happened.

A deep, distorted chuckle echoed from beneath his mask. "Ah… a strategist and a tactician. This might be entertaining after all."

Seko exhaled through his nose. "Yeah, I really don't like this guy."

Violet groaned as he pushed himself out of the rubble, dust falling from his torn coat. He wiped the blood from his lip, his usual smug demeanor momentarily replaced with cold focus. His violet eyes burned with something far more dangerous—determination.

Atama didn't need to say a word. His suit hummed as he recalibrated his cannon, adjusting its power output.

Seko cracked his neck, tightening his grip on his sword. "You good?"

Violet exhaled. "No." His expression sharpened. "But I don't need to be."

The three moved in unison.

—Atama fired another precision blast, not aiming to damage but to corner. The Old Man dodged, just as expected.—Seko vanished in a blink, reappearing exactly where the Old Man moved, slashing downward with perfect timing.—Violet, already predicting the counter, sent razor-sharp vines surging from the ground, striking from behind.

The Old Man blocked Seko's sword with unnatural reflexes, but the force of the attack forced him back—straight into Violet's grasp.

Violet smirked, twisting his fingers. The vines erupted into poisonous thorns, piercing through the Old Man's robes, injecting their lethal venom. "Got you."

The Old Man exhaled sharply.

Meanwhile—

Ella, Kiyomi, Satoshi, and Lyvona wasted no time.

With the three strongest buying them time, they rushed toward the replica Cube.

Lyvona's fingers danced over the ancient engravings, deciphering the last remaining code. "Almost there… Just need a few more seconds."

Satoshi whispered another prayer, focusing his energy to stabilize the shifting reality within the Cube.

Kiyomi, keeping an eye on the battlefield, licked her lips. "I love the sound of panic."

Ella spun her spear, watching the ongoing fight. "Less talking, more working."

They weren't just fighting anymore.

They were bringing Black Dragon back.