The mission had arrived.
No sparring this time. No mock battles. This was the real thing. A critical task that required precision, stealth, and nerve. One mistake—and you'd be erased.
Sefu stood before the trio: Korir, Novick, and Plelk.
"This one is off-record," he began, his tone cold, eyes hard. "We've received intel about a rogue anomaly possessing fragments of a forbidden mark—location: Karvu Outskirts. You three will intercept, confirm, and retrieve. Alive, if possible."
Korir's heart thundered. A live mission. With Novick and Plelk—his supposed rivals. But this wasn't a battle between them. Not today. Today, they moved as one.
"Understood," said Plelk, adjusting his gloves. His eyes gleamed—calm, calculating. Already analyzing dozens of possibilities.
"Finally," Novick cracked his knuckles. "Time to stretch."
As they departed, Sefu gave Korir one last look. A faint nod. Approval. Faith.
The Outskirts of Karvu
The wind howled. The ground beneath them was cracked and lifeless, twisted trees groaning in the distance.
"Movement," Plelk muttered, pointing toward a ridge.
Korir activated Time Shift at 30%, scanning the distorted air patterns. Something shimmered near the rocks—an illusion? No, a cloak. High-level stealth technique.
"Approach from both sides. I'll hold center," Novick instructed.
Korir nodded. The plan was clean. Sharp.
They split. Korir crept like a whisper, body syncing with time itself, his perception slowing every breath around him. Then, like a shadow slicing silence—the enemy moved.
A masked figure lunged from the veil of earth, launching fiery blades mid-air—Ashblade Technique. Not registered. He was unranked. Dangerous.
Novick collided first, his body bursting with speed as he delivered a crushing blow to the rogue's side—but the man vanished, flickering out like mist.
"A decoy!" Plelk shouted. "The real one's—!"
Boom!
An explosion of dust and pressure. Korir was flung back, crashing into rock. Pain bloomed across his ribs. But he got up. Always get up.
He tapped deeper into Time Shift—45%—pushing beyond his last limit. The rogue charged, a chaotic whirlwind of fire and earth, but Korir saw it. Saw the seams in time.
In a blink, Korir dodged the fatal strike, stepped behind the enemy, and landed a devastating blow to the base of his neck.
The rogue crumbled.
Silence.
Later that night, the trio returned. No words were needed. The mission was complete. No injuries. No failure.
Sefu stood on the edge of the HQ platform, back to them.
"You did well," he said. "Especially you, Korir. You adapted mid-fight. Controlled the tempo."
Korir bowed his head. "Thank you."
Sefu turned. "But this was only the first flame. Greater storms are coming."
He looked toward the sky.
"And some of you… will burn or rise."
Elsewhere...
In a city cloaked in neon fog, Zero stood atop a spire. His eyes scanned the lights below. A voice echoed from behind.
"Sir... they say you defeated Leo."
Zero didn't respond.
The man knelt. "Welcome, Master. The Obsidian Fang is now yours."
Zero's gaze didn't flinch. The world would tremble soon—and not even Beric would stand above him when the veil shattered.