"Have you known about us all along?"
The killers weren't fools. Seeing the playful smirks on the faces of their enemies, they immediately understood they had been discovered long ago. Realization stung, and anger flashed in their eyes. They had been toyed with.
"You've been making so much noise, how could I not notice?" Zenkichi replied casually, his gaze sweeping across them.
"Noise?" one of the killers scoffed, narrowing his eyes. "Our movements were silent, almost nonexistent. And you call that noisy?"
"You only think it was small," Zenkichi said calmly. "But in truth, your presence was painfully obvious."
Those around nodded in agreement. The killers' movements hadn't been as flawless as they believed—anyone with sharp perception could sense their approach.
"Die!"
One of the assassins could no longer contain himself. With a burst of speed, he lunged at Zenkichi. His dagger flashed like lightning, aimed directly at Zenkichi's throat. Against any ordinary man, it would have been fatal.
But Zenkichi was no ordinary man.
The blade pressed against his neck… yet it stopped there. The metal refused to pierce his skin. The killer's eyes went wide, trembling as he realized the impossibility before him.
"H-How… how could this be?"
He stared at the dagger trembling in his hand, its edge digging against Zenkichi's flesh but leaving not a single mark. His opponent stood there calmly, unshaken, as if the attempt hadn't even registered.
"You seem shocked," Zenkichi said, voice steady. "That's only natural. The gap between us is far too great."
The killer was skilled, a professional who had ended many lives with that blade. But none of that mattered. Against Zenkichi, he might as well have been a child. Even standing still, Zenkichi's body could not be cut, pierced, or harmed.
A gunshot rang out.
Another assassin had drawn his weapon in desperation. Unlike before, this time he fired a special round—a silver, high-explosive bullet designed specifically to kill superpowered targets.
The shot slammed into Zenkichi's body. Smoke flared, the echo of the blast resounding through the villa. But when the haze cleared, the result was the same. The bullet hadn't penetrated his skin. It crumpled on impact, utterly useless.
The killers froze in disbelief. Their strongest weapons, their sharpest blades, their special ammunition—nothing could touch him.
"Pathetic." Zenkichi plucked the warped bullet from his shoulder, tossing it aside. His eyes glinted with mild curiosity. "Tell me, who sent you?"
None of them answered. Their faces were pale, and their composure had vanished. They knew the truth now—this man was untouchable. Staying meant death.
"Retreat!" one of them barked.
In an instant, the assassins scattered, scrambling to escape the villa. Their mission had failed. Against Arakawa Zenkichi, there was no other outcome.