47 – "A Slap Too Strong"
Chapter 47 – "A Slap Too Strong"
A soft chuckle echoed in the air.
> "Let me introduce myself first," the man said, his smile disturbingly casual. "I'm Tom. Acting Chief of the Ashviel Order—Assassin Organization. Planetary Tier."
His voice wasn't loud.
It didn't thunder across the room.
It didn't echo.
It didn't need to.
But somehow—it carried weight.
The kind of weight that settled into the bones.
That made the air feel heavier.
That turned the silence afterward into something unnatural.
Moon and Kai felt it instantly.
A crawling sensation rippled across their skin, slow and sharp like cold static.
Goosebumps prickled to life—racing from their necks to their forearms in perfect sync, like a chain reaction triggered by instinct alone.
Their breath hitched.
Neither of them said a word, but their bodies betrayed them.
Moon's left hand twitched. Kai's right leg locked at the knee.
Their backs straightened slightly—not out of pride, but as a reflex.
A primal response to danger, drilled into the blood across generations.
A subtle tremble ran through their fingers.
A shiver, barely visible, started at the base of their spines and worked its way upward—sharp, cold, and uninvited.
For a second, it felt like they were standing at the edge of a cliff—
One step from freefall.
One breath away from getting devoured by something they couldn't see.
And yet—
They didn't move.
They didn't flinch.
They stood tall—shoulders squared, jaws clenched.
Like statues fighting back against the storm.
It wasn't courage. Not really.
It was habit. Pride. Survival instinct honed over years of pretending to be strong.
They had to steady their breathing—manually.
Each inhale drawn through tight lungs.
Each exhale released through clenched teeth.
Every breath was a fight to keep control of their own bodies.
Their minds screamed caution.
Their hearts pounded warnings.
But their eyes didn't look away.
Moon stared directly at Tom, eyes narrowed like a beast about to bare its fangs.
Kai's expression was unreadable—cold, calculating—but inside, he was already running a dozen simulations.
And still, that voice lingered in the air.
As if reality itself hadn't finished reacting to it.
Moon moved first.
With a flick of his hand, the Taurus Spear materialized in his grip—its metallic body humming with barely contained force.
Kai followed—unsheathing a sleek black katana, one he had recently bought from the lower base market. It wasn't anything special. But right now, it was the only blade he had.
Moon narrowed his eyes.
> "Sorry," he said coldly. "We don't have time to chat."
And just like that—
Moon lunged.
No words.
No warning.
Just the sudden, explosive burst of motion born from years of combat instinct.
The air cracked.
Taurus Spear sliced forward, cutting through the silence with a howl.
What followed wasn't a single attack—but a storm.
A furious barrage of slashes, each one honed by pure killing intent.
The spear moved like lightning laced with death, its arc wide, precise, and brutally fast.
Each swing was deliberate—no wasted motion, no hesitation.
It was a rhythm—fluid, fast, final.
Sharp enough to cleave through bone.
Sharp enough to make the air itself bleed.
And yet—
Tom dodged.
Effortlessly.
No panic. No strain.
His body moved with unnatural grace, weaving through the deadly dance like a shadow slipping through candlelight.
He leaned just far enough for the spear to miss by inches.
Shifted sideways at the exact millisecond to avoid a follow-up slash that would've severed most men in half.
He ducked low, spine fluid like a serpent's, then rose again with perfect balance—his eyes calm, his lips still curled in that maddening half-smile.
To Moon, it was like trying to hit smoke.
But before Moon could reset his stance—
Kai was already there.
Not a word passed between the brothers. They didn't need one.
The moment Moon's final slash missed, Kai closed in from behind like a silent tide.
Not charging—gliding.
His black katana, freshly unsheathed, gleamed under the light—its edge humming faintly with motion as it blurred forward in a single, fluid strike.
A clean, diagonal arc aimed straight at Tom's neck.
Not a flurry this time.
No distraction.
Just one precise, high-speed eel slash—a killing blow designed for sudden death.
But Tom—
He ducked.
Again.
So smooth. So clean.
It was like he had seen it coming before the blade even moved.
The katana sliced through empty air, trailing a silver line past his ear.
The force of the swing was enough to cut through a steel post—but Tom's hair didn't even stir.
Not a strand.
He straightened slowly, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder—still smiling.
Not breathing hard. Not even blinking.
Just standing there.
As if he were out for a casual stroll.
As if none of it… mattered.
> "You guys are quite skilled," Tom said, grinning now. "I love that."
Before they could react, Tom blurred forward.
Straight at Moon.
Then—
A fist collided with Moon's face.
Not a jab.
Not a measured strike.
A full-force, bone-crunching punch that landed flush against his cheek with the sound of thunder breaking stone.
The world tilted.
Moon's vision blurred for a heartbeat, white-hot pain flashing behind his eyes.
It felt like his skull had shifted—like something inside had cracked.
His jaw screamed. His nose split. The taste of iron burst across his tongue.
He staggered.
But he didn't fall.
He didn't scream.
Instead, he dug his heels into the ground, grit grinding between his teeth.
Pain was nothing.
He lived with pain.
He trained in pain.
He thrived in it.
With a snarl, Moon raised his spear—cutting down in a sharp, retaliating arc across Tom's forearm.
A clean slash.
Precise. Reflex-driven.
It should've drawn blood.
Should've at least left a mark.
But—
Tom merely twisted his wrist.
A slight, fluid motion.
The blade passed by harmlessly, kissing air.
Then—
Fingers tangled in Moon's hair.
Before Moon could react, his entire body was yanked upward—
Lifted like a puppet with cut strings.
His shoes left the ground.
His torso arched.
His head snapped back from the pull.
And then—
Slap.
A sharp crack rang out as Tom's palm connected with the side of Moon's face.
Slap.
Another from the opposite side.
Slap. Slap.
Two more—so fast, so forceful, they echoed like gunshots in the air.
The room spun.
Blood mixed with spit flew from Moon's lips.
But Tom kept laughing.
Still holding Moon aloft by the hair with one hand, he toyed with him, like a parent scolding a child—
Except each "scold" was strong enough to shake Moon's brain inside his skull.
And Tom—he wasn't even angry.
He was enjoying it.
Tom laughed the entire time—smiling as he rained down open-handed slaps on Moon's face with terrifying speed and force.
Kai's expression darkened.
Without a word, he dashed in, katana flashing.
He slashed at Tom's limbs—aiming to sever them clean off.
His sword struck Tom's wrist, thigh, shoulder.
But—
Only faint scratches appeared. Barely enough to draw blood.
Tom didn't even flinch.
He glanced down at the tiny cut on his arm, then looked at Kai with an amused smile.
A mocking one.
That smile pissed Kai off.
Moon took the chance.
His head rang. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. His vision wavered.
But his instincts—those never dulled.
Even while suspended mid-air, even while being slapped around like a toy—
His body moved.
Twist. Pivot.
He turned midair, channeling the last of his balance into a savage, reflex-driven kick, aimed straight for Tom's throat.
A kill shot.
Fast. Direct. Brutal.
But Tom didn't dodge.
He didn't flinch.
Didn't tense.
Didn't even blink.
Instead—
With one simple motion—a flick of his hand—he brushed the kick aside.
Not blocked.
Not countered.
Just… redirected.
Moon's momentum twisted unnaturally.
His leg was turned aside, and his body spiraled awkwardly in the air.
Still, he didn't stop.
He used the spin. Tried to snap into another kick from the opposite angle.
But—
Too late.
Tom's other hand snapped upward—open palm—
And connected with Moon's face.
CRACK.
The slap was monstrous.
It hit not like flesh, but like a steel plate slamming into bone.
The sound was sharp. Echoing. Final.
Moon's body launched—
Not backward—upward.
As if gravity had been ignored entirely.
He flew like a ragdoll shot from a cannon.
Kai's eyes widened from below.
He'd seen Moon take beatings. He'd seen Moon smile through cracked ribs before.
But this—
This was something else entirely.
Tom didn't let him stable for a moment. Every hit was on face , making Moon dizzy for every moment , as if Tom had an instinct inside him that knew Moon can become far more dangerous when entered in maniacal mode, even if Tom doesn't know about that side of Moon.
And then—Tom followed.
He jumped, body almost too fast to track—catching up to Moon mid-air in a single, fluid motion.
And when he reached him—
Both palms struck the sides of Moon's head.
SNNNNN—
A piercing, unnatural ringing exploded inside Moon's ears.
His brain recoiled.
The world collapsed into white noise.
No sound.
No balance.
No control.
He couldn't even tell if he was still in the air.
Everything became disjointed—colors blending, thoughts halting, the air itself feeling like static around him.
And just when his mind began to shut down—
Tom's hands grabbed his face.
One palm over his forehead.
The other gripping the bottom of his jaw.
And then—a twist.
Not a gentle one.
Not a wrestler's throw.
A violent, brutal arc—spinning Moon's body mid-air with such force it tore the wind around him.
SLAM.
Moon's skull crashed into the ground like a hammer hitting stone.
The floor fractured beneath him.
SLAM.
Again.
Tom didn't stop.
He raised Moon and slammed him again.
SLAM.
The sound was sickening—bone against tile, blood splattering across the floor.
Moon's body convulsed.
Blood now poured freely from his ears, nose, and mouth—his lips twitching in unconscious protest.
The lights above blurred. His thoughts scattered.
He couldn't move.
But Tom wasn't done.
With a savage torque, Tom spun Moon's body again—winding it like a discus before hurling it across the room.
WHAM—
Moon smashed into the far wall.
The plaster cracked.
Dust rose.
His body slumped to the ground in a heap, arms limp, head tilted to the side.
Still.
Silent.
Unconscious.
Unconscious.
Still.
Kai's eyes widened.
His brother—Moon—the masochist warrior, the monster who never fell...
Was down.
From just slaps.
That thought echoed in Kai's mind—like a thunderclap trapped between his ears.
He stood frozen for a moment.
His fingers clenched around the hilt of his katana.
His breath, once steady and calculated, now quivered—barely restrained.
Moon lay crumpled against the far wall. His body was motionless. His face bloodied.
And Kai—he could still hear the sound of those slaps ringing in his memory.
That wasn't a fight.
That was humiliation.
Something inside Kai snapped.
The cold, calm strategist shattered.
What remained... was pure instinct.
No words. No buildup.
Just action.
He moved.
Fast.
Then—
Faster.
And then—a blur.
His body vanished in a flurry of motion, leaving only a streak of shadows behind.
His katana—already cracked—glowed faintly as he pushed it beyond its limits.
Dozens of strikes tore through the air.
One after another, relentless, precise.
A blinding storm of slashes aimed at every vital point—
The neck. The chest. The ribs. The knees. The eyes.
Each blow was fast enough to kill.
Fast enough to blur the very edges of his form.
But—
Tom dodged them all.
Effortlessly.
His body moved like water—rippling out of the way, always just outside Kai's reach.
He leaned back from one strike.
Tilted his head from another.
Stepped aside at the last possible moment with a casual sway of his shoulder.
His expression?
Untouched.
Not tense. Not alert.
Just... amused.
And then he laughed.
A low, mocking sound—one that sent another jolt of fury through Kai's spine.
> "This is all you've got?" Tom said, smiling like a teacher watching a child flail.
"You're both so... weak."
Kai didn't respond.
Didn't snarl. Didn't insult.
He just gritted his teeth and kept moving.
Strike.
Dodge.
Step in.
Feint.
Spin.
Slash.
But nothing landed.
And Tom—
He wasn't even trying to win.
He was just toying with him.
Then—
Tom noticed something.
Tom had backed himself into a corner.
Just a few steps away from the edge of the room's eastern wall.
There was no space left to dodge.
Kai smirked.
> "You know," he said, his voice calm now. "From the start... I've been trying to trap you here."
Before Tom could react, Kai struck—
A close-range slash, too fast to follow.
Too close to avoid.
It was perfect.
Or should have been.
But just before the blade landed, Tom—who had looked almost cornered—smiled.
His eyes gleamed.
> "Nice try," he whispered. "I'm impressed."
Then—snap—he caught the katana with one hand.
And crushed it.
The black blade shattered into powder.
Kai's breath caught.
Before he could step back—
Tom's other hand drove into his stomach like a battering ram.
BOOM.
Kai's body flew through the air—slamming into the wall opposite Moon with a heavy thud.
The room fell silent again.
Tom stood there—smiling, calm, and untouched.
To be continued…