As Shiki was tirelessly suppressing the volatile energy of the combined attack, the clash between Nine and their enemies had already begun. The weight of the situation, though far from his immediate concern, still gnawed at the edges of Nine's mind. But now, in this moment, nothing else mattered but the fight ahead. He was already in motion, his figure vanishing from sight as he honed in on the location of his adversary.
Far from being caught off guard, Jake, with his heightened senses, noticed Nine's swift approach. His lips curled into a grin, and his voice rang out with a mix of amusement and acknowledgement.
"Ah, I think he's onto us."
Stella, standing by with a watchful eye, responded with a bite of sarcasm. "You think?" But her expression quickly shifted, becoming colder, more calculated. "Using ranged attacks won't cut it now. You need to hold him off."
Jake chuckled, the gleam of excitement in his eyes intensifying. His fingers twitched, readying himself for the chaos to come. "Well then," he said with a mischievous laugh. "It's time to take the spotlight!" He couldn't help but revel in the thrill of it all—this was what he'd been waiting for.
But Stella wasn't amused. She shot him a sharp warning glance. "Don't get cocky now. You'll still need my power if you actually want to kill him."
Jake nodded, the playfulness in his eyes never faltering. "Yeah, of course."
Before they could settle into their positions, Jake began forming a weapon out of nothing, an instrument of destruction materializing in his hands. But in a flash, Nine was upon him—his figure materializing like a ghost in the wind. With no time to react, Nine's leg lashed out, delivering a fierce dragon kick that sent Jake careening through the dense forest, crashing into the trees. The sound of impact echoed through the air.
Jake, picking himself up from the wreckage, laughed. "You surprised me there, bud. Didn't know you could pack such a punch, haha!"
Nine's response was swift, his voice dripping with irritation. "That was a kick. Never mind. Can you just shut up, sidekick?"
Jake's grin never wavered, his voice playful. "Great joke, but I think I'll pass on that."
And just like that, the two combatants were locked in a whirlwind of motion. It wasn't teleportation or tricks of the eye, but sheer, raw speed that defined their battle. They moved faster than the eye could track—blurs of motion, flashes of energy, the clash of fists and feet as they traded blow after blow, neither willing to give ground.
They were even. In strength. In skill. In every regard, they matched each other perfectly. The battlefield became an indistinguishable blur of dust and power, each combatant testing the limits of the other.
But Jake, ever the observer, noticed something subtle—something was off. The balance was tipping.
"Huh...?" he muttered under his breath as he dodged yet another barrage of attacks.
Nine's advantage became clear soon enough.
"Gray." It was an ability that spoke volumes in silence. MONOCHROMIC DISTORT—Gray, to be precise—was Nine's unique gift. It wasn't just control over energy; it was a complete manipulation of every possible form. Every punch Jake threw, every kick he attempted to land, was met with a simple shift in energy, the kinetic force of each attack either nullified or enhanced.
Nine didn't even need to move to counterattack; the power was his to bend, to weave into his own advantage. The harder Jake fought, the harder Nine's Gray made his attacks falter.
With every successive exchange, Jake stumbled more, his own body rebelling against the unrelenting pressure of Nine's passive defense. Nine's hands moved like fluid precision, each motion calculated, as though reading Jake's very intentions before they could even form.
Then, with one final misstep on Jake's part, Nine saw his opening.
His left hook was a blur. When it landed, Jake didn't just stumble—he was sent flying, crashing through the woods five times further than before. The punch had been reinforced with Nine's Gray, amplifying the force beyond even Gods.
Jake hit the ground hard, laughing through the pain, his voice rasping but filled with excitement. "Hahaha… this is more entertaining than I thought! Let's see what makes you LIMITLESS!!"
Nine sheathed his katana, his expression unreadable. "Once I'm done with you, next is your 'girl', sidekick..."
He didn't wait for a response. Stella, standing on the sidelines, watched with an impassive gaze, but her expression had darkened. She was readying herself for what was to come, even though the odds were already stacking against them. Jake wasn't out of the fight yet, but Nine's momentum was growing by the second.
Jake rose slowly, wiping the blood from his lip, and once again took his stance, his body glowing faintly, his hair shifting in the wind like the flames of a storm. His eyes—now glowing an ethereal blue—shone with an intensity that matched Nine's own. He was far from finished.
Nine, however, broke the silence with the cold certainty of a predator. "Sorry, I've been quite disrespectful. Killing a person without introducing myself first," he said with a sardonic tilt of his head. "I am Nine Eizoku... and you are dead."
The words lingered in the air. The atmosphere thickened with the promise of violence, the silence pressing in like a heavy fog. The weight of death was dawning, settling over them like a shadow, waiting for the inevitable.
And then, in the eerie stillness, Nine spoke again, his voice echoing with an otherworldly finality. "MONOCHROMIC DISTORT: CRIMSON RED... CRESCENT NULL..."
The words cut through the quiet like a blade, the space around them rippling with energy. The air itself seemed to vibrate in response, the very ground trembling beneath their feet. Stella's hand clenched into a fist, her eyes widening in realization. The attack was coming, and it would be unlike anything they had faced before.
Nine's power swelled around him, a violent wave of energy that crackled and sparked in the dead silence. In the span of a single heartbeat, it would break everything in its path. The crescendo of power had begun, and there would be no stopping it now.
And with that, the world seemed to hold its breath, preparing for the clash that would either break them or make them.