The shadow figure that struggled out from the broken classroom didn't come alone. Its limbs scraped on the floor like frayed cables, its joints bending at unnatural angles. Each step left a glimmering trail of pixel dust. Riko tensed up, his breath catching in his chest. Kaze barely acknowledged the thing, only tilting his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as if he was watching bugs crawl out of a broken air duct.
The first figure twitched and then split apart. One became two. Two became four. Four became ten.
In moments, the hallway was filled with these Assimilators. They crawled out from under the cracked tiles, squeezed through the dented lockers, and poured out of the vents like liquid shadows. Their faces flickered between almost-human features: half an eye, an upside-down mouth, bits of a nose blinking in and out like broken pixels. Each time the lights flickered, their heads snapped toward Riko and Kaze, like predators catching a scent.
Riko instinctively raised his fists. There are way more than before...
No need to point that out, Kaze said flatly.
Riko gritted his teeth. This guy had the charm of a brick. A deadly brick, sure, but still.
The Assimilators shuddered at the same time, their bodies syncing to some kind of distorted signal. Then, with a sudden jerk, they started copying Kaze's stance.
Every single one of them raised a hand, perfectly imitating the angle of his fingers, the tension in his shoulders, and the tilt of his head. Their movements glitched for a split second, then smoothed out, as if Kaze was practicing a synchronized dance with ten broken reflections.
What's going on? Why are they copying you? Riko asked.
Kaze's face didn't change. His eyes remained cold and calculating. They adapt to the biggest danger.
Riko blinked. What's that supposed to mean?
Before he could finish, all ten Assimilators charged forward at once.
Not at Riko, but at Kaze.
They moved together with alarming unity, glitching in the air, their arms stretching farther than normal, their shapes twisting under the strain of copying. Kaze stepped forward, sliding one foot a tiny bit, and the nearest Assimilator copied the action immediately.
Then Kaze started fighting.
Riko hardly saw the first strike. It was too fast—Kaze blurred, his elbow hitting the creature's jaw with a crack that echoed off the lockers. The copy flickered hard, its mimic programming struggling to keep up. Another one swung at him, but Kaze tilted his head a fraction and the attack missed.
Riko jumped in, throwing a punch at one of the Assimilators trying to get around Kaze. They're not just copying you—they're learning!
The creature dodged Riko's punch at the last second, glitching sideways in an unnatural way.
Kaze sighed. If they had learned properly, you would already be dead.
The blunt comment stung more than Riko wanted to let on.
Two Assimilators rushed at Riko now, their faces flashing through stolen expressions like a broken slideshow. He ducked under one swipe, kicked out the legs of the next, and brought his heel down on its head. It shrieked like static and broke apart into scattered pixels. But more replaced it right away, crawling over each other to get closer.
Kaze grabbed one by the throat as it jumped and slammed it into the floor so hard that the cracked tiles dented even further. Another creature tried to tackle him from behind. Without even looking, Kaze snapped his arm backward, catching it by the face. He crushed its skull until it warped like an over-compressed file.
Riko blocked a strong blow, sliding back a few feet. Hey! I could use a little help here!
You seem fine, Kaze replied, kicking an Assimilator into a row of lockers with enough force to leave a dent.
That's not what I meant—whoa! Riko jumped just before glitching claws ripped through the floor where he had been standing.
Another creature dropped from the ceiling tiles, landing right above him. Riko punched it in mid-air, sending it flying into a wall. But these things didn't give up easily—they straightened themselves up again like puppets on invisible strings.
Five Assimilators continued to focus on Kaze, copying every tiny motion he made. When he exhaled sharply, they inhaled. When he stepped forward, they did the same. When he cracked his knuckles, all of them cracked theirs at the exact same time.
Riko swallowed. That's creepy.
Kaze slowly pulled off his glove.
Pay attention, he said quietly.
The Assimilators copied the motion, reaching for gloves that they didn't even have, their hands glitching into empty air. But the copying made them unsteady; their bodies twisted, and some limbs splitting open before reforming.
Kaze flicked his bare hand downward.
Blue sparks danced across his palm.
The Assimilators tried to copy the glow, but they only glitched violently, their bodies unable to create whatever energy he was using.
You can copy the outside, Kaze said quietly, but not what's inside.
Then he moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
Riko shielded his eyes as Kaze blurred through the hallway, weaving through Assimilators with precise strikes. Every hit landed perfectly—no wasted movement, no hesitation. Kaze slammed one into the ceiling, breaking the tiles. Another was crushed against a wall. Two more disappeared in bursts of blue static as his glowing palm tore through their chests like paper.
Riko punched through two of his own, even landed a kick that caved in a creature's ribcage, but it was hard not to see the difference. Riko fought messy, raw, and driven by instinct and strength. Kaze fought like someone who had destroyed creatures before eating breakfast.
The last Assimilator grabbed Riko's ankle, glitching aggressively. Riko swung his leg and smashed it into the floor until it dissolved.
He turned around, and the hallway was quiet again.
Bits of pixel dust floated like spores in the air.
Only Kaze stood in the center, surrounded by the disappearing remains of the creatures he destroyed. Riko opened his mouth to speak, but Kaze cut him off.
Kaze brushed a bit of pixel dust off his sleeve and spoke, Now they're just annoying.