Ibaki slept for two days straight. Night had fallen, and a salty breeze woke him gently. The murmur of the sea came in waves, carrying the smell of seaweed and damp wood. He sat up slowly. His wounds were still open, oozing with every movement. Though his body had regained some strength, hunger gnawed at him from within.
He dressed, covered himself as usual, and went out. He walked through the dark streets of the port, past townsfolk who still drank and laughed beneath the warm flicker of oil lanterns. The air tasted of salt, mixed with sweat and old fish. When he reached a restaurant lit by hanging lamps, he ordered food. The sound of broth bubbling in the kitchen blended with distant laughter.
As he ate, two strange men entered. They wore black cloaks. Their steps were silent but firm. Warriors—he knew it instantly. They were here for him.
He paid for his meal calmly and left, without looking at them. The creak of the wooden floor was his only sound. When he felt several presences around him, he knew they had surrounded him. It wasn't fear he felt—it was adrenaline. He walked toward the beach, into a dark area, far from the crowd.
He stopped.
—Who the hell are you… and why are you following me? —he asked in a low, almost growling voice.
A laugh cut through the silence like a knife.
—I'm your executioner —the man said, unsheathing his sword with a metallic hum, and lunging forward.
CLANG! The steel cut through the air, but not its target. His speed was admirable—but not enough. Ibaki dodged each slash with millimetric precision. As he did, he noticed a pendant on the attacker's neck: two interlocked axes.
—You're from Daruk's assassin squad… —he muttered.
—So what if I am? We came to kill you.
—Is Daruk here?
—None of your business —the man growled before attacking again.
Bored of dodging, Ibaki hardened his fist. BOOM! The impact sounded like stone shattering. His punch landed with devastating force. The assassin's body plunged headfirst into the sand, kicking up a small cloud of dust.
He pulled the body out by the leg. It was dead.
A spear came from nowhere—ZIIING!—straight at Ibaki's chest. But his hardened body shattered it on impact. The weapon fell to the ground like a bent piece of tin.
More men appeared, surrounding him with weapons drawn. Ibaki lifted the corpse in one hand like an improvised shield as the wind picked up, raising the sand like a ghostly veil.
They charged.
What followed was a dance of violence. CRACK! THUD! BOOM! Ibaki countered them all with impossible speed. One fell, then another… bodies piled around him. The sea roared behind, as if applauding the massacre. One enemy moved like lightning, wielding his spear with perfect precision, aiming to slice Ibaki's neck.
In a split second, Ibaki used his usual technique, hardening the upper part of his torso. Even so, the attack broke through—he clutched his neck, blood seeping between his fingers. The assassin pressed the attack, but Ibaki, now prepared, smashed a fist into his face—BOOM!—so fast it seemed the sea paused to watch. The blow roared through the air, sending the man flying as if the laws of gravity no longer applied.
In the distance, a man watched. He dressed extravagantly, with ash-gray slicked-back hair, round glasses, a toothpick in his mouth, and a massive axe on his back. He gave a curt order:
—That's enough.
The men froze, panting.
—Who the hell are you, kid? —he asked, stepping forward—. And why do I have a direct order from the King of Nefros to kill you in the cruelest way possible?
Ibaki's face paled. His features tightened. The king… was still alive?
A surge of rage ran through him like internal lightning.
—He didn't die… damn it —he growled—. Next time, I won't miss.
The man let out a raspy chuckle.
—First, you'll have to get through me. And trust me, it won't be easy.
—Sir —one of the assassins interjected—. You shouldn't dirty your hands with this one. Let me finish him.
—Are you insane, Pikur? It's been years since I've seen anyone take on my men like that. I'm excited. I'll face him myself.
Ibaki remained silent. He knew this fight wouldn't be easy. He was facing a legend.
—Are you ready, boy? —Daruk asked.
Without warning, he lunged with brutal speed. WHAM! Ibaki couldn't fully harden his body in time. The blow to his chest made him stagger. The air around them seemed to shrink, as if it had been sucked away.
—Impressive… —Ibaki murmured—. I didn't see that coming.
The second attack came in a flurry of heavy strikes. This time, Ibaki dodged them. Pikur was stunned. Only he could keep up with such blows in training—how was this possible? That boy… might be his equal.
Daruk stopped, smiling like a predator.
—You've got good combat reading. But you're still holding back, aren't you?
He drew his axe.
—First Core Release: Force Expulsion.
BOOOOOOOM! A surge of light tore through the night. The axe strike came with monstrous power. Ibaki hardened his hands and managed to stop it, but the pain was intense. Each blow demanded more resilience. His muscles cracked like dry wood.
He decided to accelerate. Moving faster than before, he closed the distance—but Daruk caught him with a kick to the neck. BAM! The strike hurled him through the air, smashing him into a rock. CRASH!
—That's it —Pikur said, satisfied—. No one survives that.
—Not yet —Daruk murmured.
Ibaki emerged from the rubble, breathing hard, his chest heaving violently.
—How… did he survive? —Pikur whispered—. This guy is…
—You hardened your neck —Daruk said, impressed—. You knew I didn't have many angles left, so you aimed for that.
—Exactly —Ibaki replied, struggling—. It was a guess. Luckily, I was right.
—You're intuitive, I'll give you that. But this ends now.
Daruk positioned himself, unleashing a brutal surge of energy.
—Second Core Release: Explosive Expansion.
KRRRRAAAAAK! Daruk moved, breaking the wall of gravity and tearing at the foundations of time. His speed and power were on another level. The ground split beneath his feet; every step was a tremor.
Ibaki felt the pressure rising. The next attack was like being hit by a mountain. His body groaned, his bones vibrated, the pain unbearable. But he couldn't give up. Not yet.
He thought of his clan, his promise. He hardened his body to the maximum—his skin turned to diamond, his entire form covered in a layer of steel that looked like frozen ice. But Daruk, without hesitation, cleaved his head off in a single strike. SPLAT! Blood sprayed over the sand.
—You were good —Daruk said—. But not good enough.
—Sir! —Pikur shouted, suddenly attacking.
His move wounded Ibaki's arm and pushed him back. The boy had reappeared.
He had used his ability to harden another assassin's corpse as a decoy, switching places just before the blow. He had even stolen Daruk's axe without him noticing.
—He almost took my head off… with my own weapon —Daruk muttered, stunned.
Furious, Pikur advanced to finish him. Ibaki could barely move; he had spent all his energy. Pikur raised his sword.
—Stop! —Daruk ordered.
—But sir…
—I won't repeat myself.
Daruk walked up to the badly wounded Ibaki and crouched, smiling.
—You have your father's potential… Hayira Tenchi.
Ibaki raised his gaze. What seemed to be his body… was another hardened corpse. He stood behind Pikur, a sword at his neck.
—Never underestimate your enemy —he said in a hoarse voice, his eyes blackened with fury.
Daruk turned slowly, smiling.
—I'll say it again… You're just like your father.
—I knew you knew him —Ibaki replied coldly.
Ibaki stood tall, the blade unmoving against his enemy's throat.