The underground facility was bathed in crimson.
Dim emergency lights flickered overhead, casting jagged shadows over the blood-soaked floor. The air reeked of gunpowder, death, and rot. Corpses of security guards lay sprawled across the concrete, limbs twisted unnaturally, their bodies still warm.
In the midst of the carnage—Ren stood, gripping the jagged piece of rebar.
Across from him, Itoshi spun his twin daggers in his fingers, their polished edges gleaming under the cold artificial light.
A smirk curled on Itoshi's lips. "You're looking a little pale, Ren."
Ren said nothing.
Because he could already feel it.
The poison was working fast.
His limbs felt sluggish. His nerves burned like wildfire, and worst of all—his vision was beginning to blur.
Itoshi's smirk widened. He knew.
"That poison should've killed a man ten times your size in a minute." His voice was almost playful. "You're still standing. I'll admit—that's impressive."
Ren rolled his neck, his grip tightening on the rebar.
It didn't matter.
Poison or not—he was going to kill Itoshi.
For a moment, everything was still.
Then—
They moved.
Itoshi was fast.
Ren was faster.
They met in a blur of movement, steel and flesh colliding in perfect sync.
A dagger flashed—Ren tilted his head, feeling the wind of the blade barely graze his ear.
He retaliated instantly—launching a precise elbow strike at Itoshi's ribs.
THWACK!
Itoshi grunted, but he twisted with the impact, minimizing the damage.
He countered with a spinning back kick, Ren ducked, sweeping his leg out—
Itoshi hopped over it, landing light on his feet.
The fight was a storm of motion.
Punch. Parry. Elbow. Dodge. Knee. Counter.
Every movement was perfectly timed. Neither had room for wasted motion—every strike had intent.**
Itoshi lunged—dagger slashing toward Ren's throat.
Ren caught his wrist mid-air, twisting it—forcing Itoshi to drop the blade.
But Itoshi adapted instantly—slamming his forehead into Ren's face.
CRACK!
Ren staggered, blood dripping from his nose.
Itoshi's grin widened. "That all you got?"
Ren didn't reply.
Instead, he stepped into Itoshi's guard, bringing up his knee—
SLAM!
Itoshi's breath hitched as Ren's knee buried itself into his ribs.
But Itoshi was already moving.
He caught Ren's leg, spun him mid-air—
And hurled him into a pile of corpses.
Ren landed hard, blood splattering across his cheek.
He barely had time to react.
Itoshi was already on him.
A dagger flashed—aiming straight for Ren's heart.
Ren grabbed the nearest body—a dead guard—and used it as a shield.
SHUNK!
The dagger stabbed deep into the corpse's chest.
Ren didn't hesitate.
He rolled, kicking upward—his foot slamming into Itoshi's wrist.
The dagger went flying.
Ren exploded forward, swinging his rebar in a deadly arc.
Itoshi barely managed to duck—the jagged metal tore through his uniform, cutting deep into his shoulder.
A spray of blood painted the ground*
Itoshi hissed, gripping his wound.
Then he laughed.
"That was close," he admitted. "Too bad you're slowing down."
Ren exhaled sharply.
He wasn't fighting at a 100%, not even at 50%. Every time he moved a part of his body it felt like fire ants were hitting on his open flesh. The poison was taking serious effect, and ten was seriously handicapped.
His vision was deteriorating fast.
Itoshi noticed.
And he took advantage of it.
Itoshi vanished.
Ren's breath hitched—his vision blurred even further.
A whisper of movement.
Ren turned—too slow.
A dagger slashed across his back.
Pain exploded through his body.
He barely reacted before another attack came.
Slash—Ren dodged left.
Stab—he parried with the rebar.
But he was getting slower.
Itoshi was circling him.
Like a predator.
Ren's breathing was ragged.
His hands were shaking.
The poison was attacking his nerves. His body was betraying him.
And Itoshi knew it.
"It's over, Brat."
Ren exhaled, tightening his grip on the rebar.
No.
It wasn't.
Itoshi smirked, glancing around.
At the countless corpses littering the underground facility.
"Look at this place," he mused. "You sure built a nice cemetery"
Ren's body trembled—but his stance never wavered.
"Yeah."
He lifted the rebar.
"Now all we need is a dead body."
His milky, fading eyes locked onto Itoshi.
"And I can assure you once all this is over, I'll give you a nice burial."
Itoshi's smirk faded.
Then—he lunged.
Ren moved.
Their blades clashed—sparks flying—blood spraying.
The fight reached its climax.
OSAKA
The whir of helicopter blades echoed across the rooftop.
Inside the aircraft, Hideo Takeda adjusted his cufflinks, lifting his phone to his ear.
"Take off."
Silence.
The helicopter didn't move.
Takeda's brow furrowed. "I said—"
Something dripped.
A slow, wet sound.
Drip. Drip.
Takeda turned his head.
His pilot was dead.
Slumped over the controls, throat slit wide open.
Takeda's stomach twisted.
And then—he felt it
Slowly, he turned around.
A figure sitting right beside him
Akihiro.
He smiled as he tossed his bloody knife up and down
Takeda's pulse spiked.
Akihiro acted like he was putting on a hat
"Sorry for the inconvenience, but I'm your new pilot. Your destination? Hell, but you won't be flying there, I'll send you myself."
Takeda reached for his gun.
Akihiro moved first.