Ryu's aura seethed. He was by far the weakest on the battlefield, and yet his stamina felt endless, his bag of tricks even more unfathomable.
It didn't seem like he thought of things in advance. His mind was just sharper, his thoughts quicker, his confidence unflappable.
He didn't care about charging into battle without a thought or care in the world. He didn't need a plan before he acted; he was confident to the point of arrogance.
These so-called geniuses, these pinnacle existences that stood atop the world, that had refined their skills for centuries, pampered by the best teachers, the best techniques, the best resources…
It only took him a glance to see through their weaknesses.
The explosions to Ryu's back calmed to reveal the visage of a beaten and bloodied Young Master Bright. His armor was chipped in countless places, his body leaking blood caked in flakes of gold.
