The Nephom's relentless barrage of punches slowed, his previously ecstatic expression steadily giving way to something colder, more disinterested. The air crackled with tension as his fists paused mid-strike, his large, clawed hands hovering menacingly. His excitement had waned the moment the realisation hit that Seijuro couldn't fight back.
Seijuro's body was a mess—a battered, broken figure. His face was beyond pain, his cheekbones swollen and discolored, his lips split with blood, and one eye shut tight, puffy, and bruised. Sei's breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps.
The Nephom leaned back slightly, the grin on his face no longer playful. His voice came out cold, different compared to before.
"Hmm…" he rumbled, grabbing Seijuro's head with his massive hand. His grip was like a vice, cold fingers enveloping Sei's skull with ease, as though he were a child crumpling a piece of paper. He lifted him from ground and threw him aside like a discarded toy.
Seijuro's body skidded across the cracked asphalt, scraping against debris, but somehow, miraculously, he managed to rise again. His face was bruised, his teeth bloodied, but his resolve remained, shaky though it may have been.
"Around thirty more minutes until this test is over.The only way I can pass... is by defeating you." Sei said.
The Nephom stared at him, his voice dripping with disdain. "You've gotten quite boring, human. You should just give up. I've already beaten you to a pulp—it's no use."
Seijuro met his gaze, his own expression an iron mask of defiance. His voice was low, gruff, and strained. "There's no way I would give up. I can't let an overgrown brute one up me." His words came through clenched teeth, each syllable coated in pain.
Hope was fleeting, buried deep under the weight of exhaustion and defeat, but then—a smirk. A crooked, ugly smile began to form on Seijuro's battered face. His teeth glistened red, the smile twisted and unsettling, but it held a dangerous promise. His voice was raspy, dripping with an unspoken confidence. "Besides... I haven't used my Shindō yet."
The Nephom's eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing. He chuckled coldly, dismissing Sei's words without a second thought. "It's too late for that now, human. There's no way—"
Before the Nephom could finish his taunt, something shifted. A presence, a sudden, wave-like energy that enveloped Seijuro's entire body. Blue Kiryū began to seep from his very skin, not in chaotic surges like 001, but in smooth, deliberate waves—calm, calculated, like ocean waves brushing the shore at sunset.
The Nephom's gaze shifted, his expression shifting to one of genuine surprise. His mouth opened slightly. "Oh, what's this?" he gasped, his voice a low rumble.
Right when the Nephom expected something to happen, Sei's Kiryū suddenly vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
Seijuro took a deep, deliberate breath, lowering his arms and placing his body into an unorthodox stance—a relaxed, almost casual position. His knees were slightly bent, his shoulders loose.
The Nephom chuckled, but this time it was mocking, cruel, echoing through the air. "I really thought you were about to pull something there! Seems like your body's too weak to even summon Kiryū effectively." His grin widened, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. He took a step forward, his voice growing colder as he leveled his gaze at Seijuro. "Human. I've had enough of this game now. You've entertained quite while, so I'll reward you with an honorable death."
Seijuro remained silent. His head was fixed straight ahead, eyes closed, his breath slow and controlled, each inhalation steady despite the pain wracking his body.
Suddenly, the Nephom's body shifted. His massive, clawed hand balled into a fist as his body coiled, muscles tensed like a predator preparing to pounce. His legs extended, his back arched slightly, his entire frame moving with the kind of predatory grace only a beast could command. His Kiryū began forming around him once again, this time even more raging—a furious red hue. His energy surged into one point, focusing into his balled fist with explosive power.
"This is my Shindō technique… Kemono Ouda!" he roared, the air splitting as he spoke.
Kemono Ouda (獣殴打) Beast Strike.
A Shindō technique 001 himself made. A wild, primal punch that channels massive stored energy into a single devastating attack, akin to the ferocity of an unleashed beast.
Layers of Kiryū twisted and rippled in his hand, forming a swirling mass of energy that pulsed with ferocity.
The Nephom's fist descended toward Seijuro like a meteor, but Seijuro remained still, his eyes shut and his body motionless.
The Nephom's body charged forward with beastly speed, his entire frame a blur of movement. His red Kiryū swelled as his arm shot forward like an unstoppable freight train. His claws and fangs gleamed with bloodlust, every step of his charge predatory and unyielding. "Stupid human!" he shouted as he closed the gap.
But then the unthinkable happened—Seijuro moved.
It wasn't a grand motion, nor did it appear to be calculated. He sidestepped, his movements light and effortless, as though his body reacted to the attack on it's own. Pure Instinct. His body flowed, sidestepping left, his entire form smooth like flowing liquid. The Nephom's gaze widened as Seijuro's motion came into view.
Something was off.
The Nephom's body was already in motion—his attack was committed, a beast charging into a trap. His eyes went wide as he side eyed to Seijuro, in a seamless, almost mechanical motion, ducked, bent his knees, and drew back his fist.
His arm followed, a perfect mirror of his opponent's movement.
Kiryū swam and coiled around Seijuro's fist, glowing a pale blue. The technique was familiar—disturbingly familiar. The Nephom's mind raced. "Is that… my technique?" he thought, confused, startled.
Before he could process what was happening, Seijuro's fist lashed forward with calculated precision. A single punch—sharp, perfectly timed—collided with the Nephom's gut. A perfect counter.
The force was devastating. The Nephom's body was thrown backward, the air forced out of his lungs with an explosive whoosh. He soared through the air like a crashing missile, breaking through a stack of garbage and sending debris flying in every direction.
The Nephom hit the ground hard, his body skidding across the concrete. He groaned, struggling to lift himself. His vision swam as he tried to adjust, only to find himself staring at Seijuro standing coldly before him, calm, focused, his Kiryū vanishing into the air once again.
Seijuro's voice cut through the stillness, cold and sharp. "How did you use my move just now?" he demanded, his voice low, dripping with unyielding menace. His steps were deliberate as he approached the fallen Nephom. "How is that possible?"
Seijuro's voice was low, harsh, the kind of tone that sent chills down the spine. He moved in, his Kiryū barely visible as it dissipated, and his voice dropped further.
"This is my Shindō… Kagami no Tenchi."
Kagami no Tenchi (鏡の天地) Mirror of Heaven and Earth.
A style so complete, it could perfectly mirror and counter anything the user desires using Kiryū..
Seijuro's voice came low and steady, a sharp contrast to the chaos of his brutal battle. His white hair, damp and bloodied, clung to his face as the wind danced around him. His torn clothes flapped gently in the breeze, a stark reminder of how much punishment he had endured.
"My Shindō, Kagami no Tenchi, allows me to perfectly mirror and counter all attacks... including other Shindō."
The words hung in the air like a chilling whisper. The Nephom's face shifted, his expression twisting from amusement to surprise, and finally, to a cold, calculating disbelief. His brow furrowed, eyes narrowing as though trying to dissect the claim.
"I don't believe it!" he bellowed, his voice erupting with anger and doubt. His tone was sharp, a blend of incredulity and rage, the kind of reaction that signaled a violent storm building behind the surface. "A Shindō that can counter and mirror any other Shindō? Something like that shouldn't even exist!"
"I waited until the perfect moment to use it, catching you when you had full confidence you had me, so in that way I could turn the tides with one move."
"It was a risk, I can't lie, but unfortunately for you I can't risk losing... Not now anyway."
Seijuro stood tall in the center of the wreckage and wind, his battered figure unwavering. His gaze was piercing, calm, steady, and cold as the grave.
"Im living proof that it exists, so believe it," he retorted, his voice steady and unyielding. His feet shifted ever so slightly, his body coiled, his stance defying exhaustion. "And with it..."
"I'm going to defeat you."
The air around him shifted as if acknowledging his words, a quiet breeze curling through his hair and his tattered clothing. All noise ceased besides the sound of the wind.
For a moment, 001 froze, his mind stumbling into a memory—unbidden and sharp. It came like an unforgiving lightning bolt, clawing at the edges of his mind. A flashback, vivid and searing, of a similar moment in his life, a battle long buried beneath layers of rage and time.
The memory took hold: a figure standing there, far from beaten, far from broken. That figure was garbed in clothes with flowing purple accents, a cape that whipped with every gust of wind. The man had confidence—unshakable, unyielding confidence—and his words had matched Seijuro's almost to the letter.
He said the same thing, just like this human is saying now.
He could remember it. "How are you so powerful, power like that shouldn't exist!" He had shouted and the man had responded confidently. "I'm living proof, this power belongs to me. And with it, I'll kill you."
The memory came alive, and with it came an undeniable sensation: déjà vu. A ghostly whisper from the past that clawed at 001's instincts, at his pride, at his rage. That other man had stood in front of him, an enrolling student, much like Seijuro, and had declared something similar with the same kind of chilling confidence. The memory twisted and gnawed at 001's mind until all that was left was a burning, pulsating rage.
The smooth, calm confidence of that moment was etched into his bones. His hand clenched involuntarily, veins pulsing and muscles tensing, his body crackling with an unspoken fury. His breathing grew ragged, his teeth clenched so hard they threatened to shatter under the pressure. His eyes, once cold and calculating, had narrowed into furious slits.
"I refuse..." the thought came to him, unspoken but loud enough in his mind.
"I refuse," he shouted, his voice rising like a thunderclap, his entire body trembling with the force of his anger. He pointed at Seijuro with a hand that shook, his voice carrying the weight of humiliation and defeat. His teeth glinted in the moonlight, his expression a mix of fury and denial.
"I refuse to be bested by a human like that bastard. Not again!"
His rage ignited like an inferno. His Kiryū began to swirl once again, the red waves rolling and twisting like a storm coming alive. His hands trembled as energy surged through him, churning and manifesting in waves that threatened to drown out the very air itself. His power was alive, writhing, eager to be unleashed—a furious, chaotic tide of raw strength..