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The silence in the throne room was suffocating as I stood before King Alastor, my fists clenched, heart pounding with adrenaline. His wide, fearful eyes darted between me and the bodies of his guards strewn across the floor. But just as I was about to strike, a surge of instinct flooded my senses, an ominous warning that something was wrong.
Before I could react, a powerful force struck me from the side, slamming into my ribs with crushing strength. The impact sent me careening through the air, my body hitting the marble floor with a sickening thud, the force ripping a gasp from my lungs as blood splattered from my mouth. Pain shot through my ribs as I forced myself to my knees, spitting blood and gasping for air.
My vision cleared just enough to see a figure standing over me, dressed in the unmistakable white attire of the World Government's elite agents. A Cipher Pol operative. Judging by his bearing and his calm, icy stare, this was no ordinary agent, this was one of the trained killers who upheld the government's control over even the most powerful kings.
"Orion Hale," the agent spoke, his voice low and calculating. "I see you're making quite a mess."
I pushed myself upright, gritting my teeth as pain flared through my torso. "I assume you're here to clean up for your so-called king?"
He merely gave a faint smile. "King Alastor's whims are his own. I'm here on behalf of the World Government, to deal with dangerous elements like you." He vanished in an instant, his form blurring before reappearing directly in front of me, his fist driving toward my face with blinding speed.
I barely managed to dodge, feeling the brush of his knuckles skim my jaw. As I pivoted, his leg shot up in a high arc, "Rankyaku." The air seemed to slice in front of him, the shockwave cutting through the marble floor with ease. I threw myself to the side, feeling the razor-sharp wind pass just inches from my skin.
He was using Rokushiki, the specialized techniques reserved for the highest ranks of government agents. I forced myself to steady my breathing, eyes fixed on every shift in his stance, every tightening of muscle. His skill level was leagues beyond the king's guards. And unlike them, he wasn't bound by duty, he was here to kill.
He launched into action again, blurring in and out of sight, each movement a deadly blend of speed and precision. I raised my arms to defend, but his blows landed like sledgehammers. His strikes forced me back, each impact sending waves of pain through my already bruised body. Every punch, every kick was calculated, relentless, testing every bit of endurance I had left.
But through the pain, I forced myself to observe, to learn. His movements, his techniques, they had patterns, subtle shifts in his stance that signaled which technique he would use next. As he prepared another Rankyaku. I shifted just slightly, anticipating the arc of the attack. The wind blade missed by a hair's breadth, slicing a pillar behind me in half.
It was then that I made a decision. This wasn't just about defense. I needed to match him. Every technique, every attack had a formula, a pattern, and if I could read them, I could replicate them. The image of his high-speed movement, his powerful kicks and strikes, burned in my mind. I needed to understand it, internalize it.
He lunged again, vanishing in a blur. I focused on the impression he'd left in the air, the faint whisper of his steps. Summoning every bit of strength, I pushed myself forward, forcing my muscles to match his rhythm.
"Soru!" I muttered under my breath. I felt my body move faster than ever before, blurring forward just as he did. My speed shocked him, his guard dropping momentarily as I moved in close, delivering a swift punch to his ribs. The impact pushed him back, surprise flickering in his eyes.
A smirk tugged at my lips. "Guess I'm a fast learner."
He narrowed his eyes, his expression hardening as he raised his hands, a warning that he would not underestimate me again. In an instant, he leaped into the air, his feet seeming to find invisible footholds as he climbed higher, circling me from above. I watched, analyzing every motion.
"Geppo." I breathed, a fierce determination igniting within me.
He dove toward me with a powerful kick, but this time I was ready. I pushed off from the ground, using Geppo to leap upward, meeting him midair. My fist connected with his jaw, the shock rippling through my arm. We both landed hard, but I steadied myself first, the technique burning into my memory as adrenaline coursed through my veins.
The agent wiped blood from his mouth, his eyes darkening with something close to admiration, though his expression remained cold. "Impressive. Few could pick up such techniques so quickly."
I shrugged, shaking out my fists. "You'll find I'm full of surprises."
But he wasn't finished. He moved again, this time faster, launching a barrage of "Shigan", finger bullets that tore through the air with the force of gunfire.
As the Cipher Pol agent unleashed his attacks, the familiar sense of heightened awareness kicked in. My training, the blindfolded exercises, the nights spent feeling every shift in my surroundings, all of it came rushing back as I dodged his attacks with increasing ease. His movements became clear, the pattern of his strikes mapping out in my mind before they even landed.
And then it happened: a breakthrough. The haze around me sharpened, and the world seemed to slow, each motion, each breath from the agent more vivid. My senses opened fully, the clarity I'd been pursuing for so long now within reach.
Observation Haki, refined and awakened at last.
The agent's strikes no longer held the same danger. I slipped past his defenses with fluidity, each movement precise, each evasion calculated. Every attack was visible before it even began, his intent clear, the air shifting in response to his every decision.
The agent's attacks grew more desperate as I slipped past his defenses, dodging every strike with effortless precision. Frustration crept into his expression as his punches met nothing but air. I could sense his mounting fear, his disbelief as I maneuvered with a fluidity he hadn't anticipated.
It was time to end this.
I channeled everything into one final strike, drawing strength from the core of my being, from every wound, every hard-fought victory that had led me to this moment. I felt power coil through my body, my muscles tensing as I aimed for his center. I wanted this to end with absolute finality.
My fist connected with his abdomen, the force tearing through his guard, breaking through layers of hardened muscle and will. I heard the sickening crunch of bone, felt the resistance give way as he crumpled under the weight of the blow. His body shuddered, the strength draining from him as he staggered, clutching his stomach.
For a heartbeat, he remained standing, his eyes wide with disbelief. And then, like a marionette with its strings cut, he collapsed to the ground, unmoving.
I straightened, breathing heavily, the rush of victory coursing through me. The pain in my body flared, but I forced myself to focus, to steady my pulse as the room fell silent. The agent lay motionless at my feet, his once-cold eyes staring into nothingness.
King Alastor had fled during the chaos, no doubt hoping his prized agent would save him. But his protection was gone now, shattered by my hand. He could no longer hide behind the World Government's shadow.
I turned toward the doorway, blood dripping from my fists, a quiet rage burning within me. The agent had been a formidable foe, his skills a testament to the government's training, but even their power had its limits. I was ready to confront Alastor, to make him answer for his greed, his arrogance.
With decisive steps, i strode forward, prepared to finish what i had started.
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