Shikaku's movements were a blur, his blade gleaming with a deadly precision as he lunged toward Kenta. His speed was unmatched, a testament to why he was called the Blade Beast. But just as his blade was about to strike, Kenta's figure shimmered like a mirage.
In an instant, he vanished, taking the entrapped Nexomorph with him.
Shikaku's blade struck the empty air, the force of his swing slicing clean through the serpent's lingering tendrils, but his target was gone. A low, mocking laugh echoed through the battlefield.
"Oh, my dear Blade Beast," Kenta's voice rang out, disembodied yet taunting, "you think yourself worthy of a duel with me? How quaint. But alas, I'm afraid you're far from honored enough."
Shikaku snarled, his crimson eyes scanning the field for any sign of the eyepatched menace. His frustration was palpable, his blade trembling in his grasp.
"Damn it!" he growled, slamming the tip of his blade into the ground.
