The bell's echo died. Ironhide moved.
Seven and a half feet of living metal exploded forward, boots cracking canvas. His fist came like a wrecking ball.
Kairon's Sharingan tracked it—tomoe spinning, predicting trajectory. He sidestepped. The punch passed through empty air, displacement hot against his mask.
The follow-up came instantly. Left hook, brutal and low.
Kairon twisted, sword rising. Steel met metallic skin with a sound like a struck bell. The impact vibrated through his bones. Sparks flew in a cascade of orange-white. His blade held, but barely.
[Sage: Impact force: 800 pounds. Your enhancements are the only reason that didn't shatter. Don't block directly again.]
Kairon backpedaled. Ironhide pressed forward, methodical and confident.
"Fast little fox." His cold blue eyes gleamed. "But speed don't mean much when you can't hurt me."
Kairon circled right, studying. Heavy. Powerful. But the metallic transformation compromised flexibility—joints moved unnaturally, footwork followed patterns. And there: old scars. Deep gouges across his arms. A cross-shaped mark on his ribs. A puncture near his collarbone.
Weak points.
[Sage: Analysis complete. Vulnerable areas: joints, breathing passages, eyes, previous injury sites. The scars suggest thinner metal coverage. Prolonged transformation drains energy—fatigue will force reversion.]
"Tell me, Ironhide—do those scars hurt? Or are you so covered in metal you can't feel anything?"
Ironhide's expression darkened. "You gonna talk or fight?"
"Why not both?"
Kairon surged forward, sword thrusting toward the cross-shaped scar.
Ironhide's block came fast—forearm deflecting the blade with a screech of tortured metal.
Kairon spun with the deflection, blade reversing, slashing the back of Ironhide's knee.
Contact. Sparks. The strike skated across metallic skin without penetrating.
But Ironhide's stance hitched. Just slightly.
[Sage: Neurotoxin activated. First dose delivered. Motor control degradation will be gradual. Each cut compounds the effect.]
Ironhide spun, backhand whistling through air. Kairon ducked under it.
Too close. The Sharingan predicted it, but his body barely kept pace.
Ironhide grinned. "Not bad. Most don't last this long."
"Most aren't me."
Ironhide charged—feinted left, exploded right. His fist drove toward Kairon's center mass.
Sharingan caught it. Kairon swayed aside, sword rising toward Ironhide's exposed armpit.
The blade bit. Shallow. A thin line opened across the joint, silver-red blood seeping through.
Ironhide's surprise flickered.
Kairon pressed. A flurry targeting vulnerable points—wrist, elbow, knee, neck, the cross-scar. None penetrated deep, but each landed. Each delivered neurotoxin.
Ironhide blocked, deflected, absorbed. But he was moving now. Actually defending.
The crowd's energy shifted. This wasn't the usual demolition.
Kairon flowed back, breathing elevated but controlled. Arms aching from blocked strikes. But his mind was clear, Sharingan processing every detail.
Ironhide straightened, grin gone. "Alright, fox. You got my attention."
Then he moved faster.
***
The shift was immediate and brutal.
Ironhide's speed increased, strikes coming with more force. Adaptation. The veteran adjusting, pressing advantage.
[Sage: Warning. His performance is improving. Hypothesis: adaptive enhancement—stronger with perceived threat. Problematic.]
"You think?" Kairon snarled, barely dodging a punch that would have caved his ribs.
Sharingan worked overtime, predicting attacks split-seconds before impact. Without it, he'd be down. With it, he was being pushed back.
Ironhide's fist grazed his mask—enough to snap his head sideways and crack porcelain. The world spun. Kairon converted momentum into a backward flip.
He landed in a crouch, blood running warm from where the mask's edge cut him.
"There it is," Ironhide rumbled. "The moment they realize they're outmatched." He advanced with certainty. "What are you gonna do, fox?"
Kairon touched his split lip, looked at blood on his fingers, and laughed.
Pure, genuine amusement.
"You want to know what I'm going to do?" He stood, Sharingan spinning faster. "I'm going to show you why you've never fought anyone like me."
He moved. Toward, not away.
His sword became a blur. High slash, low thrust, reverse cut, spinning strike. Sharingan seeing openings, predicting blocks, adjusting mid-swing to exploit gaps.
And he talked. Analysis, not taunts.
"That cross-scar on your ribs—someone with a blade got through because you dropped your left elbow. Just. Like. Now."
Sword licked out, scoring the scar. Ironhide's block came late, left arm delayed microseconds.
Neurotoxin working.
"The gouge on your arm—claws. You turned into the attack confident your metal would hold. It did. But mobility suffered."
Another strike targeting old wounds. Ironhide's parry slower.
"And that puncture near your collarbone—that's the one that worries you. Because whoever put it there figured out what I just did."
Blade flashed toward Ironhide's throat.
Ironhide caught it. Grabbed the blade barehanded, stopping it inches from his neck. Silver-red blood seeped between his fingers.
"Clever. But not clever enough."
He yanked, pulling Kairon forward. His other fist drove toward the mask.
Sharingan saw it coming. Kairon released the sword and dropped beneath the punch. His palm drove into Ironhide's knee, chakra-enhanced.
The joint buckled. Briefly. Enough.
Kairon slid past, touching the sword's hilt in Ironhide's grip. The blade vanished—dismissed to inventory—rematerialized in his hand three feet away.
Ironhide spun, but his left leg dragged. Neurotoxin and strike compounding.
"You're slowing." Kairon circled. "Feeling it? Muscles not responding right? Reflexes behind where they should be?"
Ironhide's expression was granite. "Poison. Enhanced blade."
"Perfectly legal. Integrated weapon enhancement, not hidden ability." Kairon's grin showed. "Want to file a complaint?"
Ironhide stared. Then laughed—grinding metal. "Poison. Targeting old wounds. Talking to distract." His grin returned with respect. "You fight like someone who's been outmatched their whole life."
He cracked his neck. "I like you, fox. Shame I have to break you."
"You can try."
Ironhide exploded forward—pure overwhelming aggression.
Fists like pistons. Sharingan predicted, but Kairon's body was reaching limits. Dodge, block, deflect, retreat. Each exchange drove him closer to the cage wall.
A punch caught his guard. The impact drove him backward until his back hit chain-link.
Ironhide pressed. Fist driving toward his face.
Sharingan slowed the world. Three options: left, right, down.
He chose forward.
Is this it? No. Not yet.
Pushed off the cage, driving inside the punch's arc. Too close for Ironhide to adjust. His sword thrust with every ounce of strength directly into the cross-shaped scar.
The blade penetrated. An inch through metallic layer into flesh. Neurotoxin flooded the wound.
Ironhide's roar shook the arena. His backhand caught Kairon's chest despite close quarters.
Impact launched him across the ring. He hit canvas hard, rolled, came up gasping. Ribs screaming.
[Sage: Three ribs cracked. Suit integrity: 73%. Critical stress levels.]
Across the ring, Ironhide staggered. Right arm hanging lower. Stance showing instability.
Still standing. Still dangerous.
"That actually hurt." Ironhide touched the wound, fingers coming away bloody. "You just made the list."
"I'm honored."
"Don't be. Now I show you what I do to people on the list."
He charged—brutal, overwhelming violence.
And Kairon realized current capabilities weren't enough.
Time to stop holding back.
***
Kairon's hand moved to his chest. Mana responded—roaring flood of magical enhancement.
Blue-white light erupted beneath his suit, tracing lightning across his body. Muscles surged, power doubling instantly. His bones hummed. His blood sang. Every cell screamed *more*.
[Sage: Enhancement Magic activated. All physical stats doubled. Duration: 5 minutes. Stamina drain: 2x. Make every second count.]
The world changed.
Ironhide's charge looked manageable. Sharingan plus doubled perception turned movements into clear, predictable sequences.
Kairon moved. Met the charge.
Seven strikes in three seconds. Each finding vulnerable points. Each delivering neurotoxin.
Ironhide's counter hit air. Kairon was gone, circling at speeds that made the crowd gasp.
"What—"
Another combination. Shoulder check, blade across elbow, spin to kidney, thrust toward armpit. Ironhide's blocks came late, counters too slow.
"This is the difference. Between relying on one advantage, and building layers."
Sword found the cross-scar again. More toxin.
Strike to knee. Joint buckled harder.
"You're strong. Nearly indestructible. But comfortable."
Slash across the arm wound. Left side noticeably weaker.
"I'm not them."
The assault became a storm. Enhanced speed striking from impossible angles. Enhanced strength carrying devastating force. Sharingan predicting every counter.
Neurotoxin building. Cumulative. Inevitable.
Ironhide slowed. Dozens of shallow cuts. Breathing labored. Eyes showing recognition.
He was losing.
"NO!" Ironhide's roar was defiant. Metallic skin brightened, transformation pushed to limits. Desperate flurry—telegraphed but bone-crushing.
Sharingan dissected each strike. Dodge. Weave. Duck.
Then the opening. Both arms extended. Torso exposed. Cross-scar vulnerable.
Time crystallized.
Kairon drove forward. Every ounce of enhanced strength behind his blade. Sword found the scar, penetrated deep, twisted, ripped free in a spray of silver-red.
Ironhide's eyes went wide.
For a heartbeat, nothing.
Then his metallic transformation failed. Silver-gray fading to tan flesh. The transformation unraveled from the wound outward until he stood fully human, blood streaming.
He swayed. Tried to step forward. Legs gave out.
Crashed to his knees.
Kairon stood over him, breathing hard. Enhancement still singing—thirty seconds left—but the fight was over.
Ironhide looked up, blood on his lips. Not angry. Resigned. Almost satisfied.
"Damn. You actually did it."
Eyes rolled back. He pitched forward, unconscious.
Silence.
Then someone started a slow clap. Another joined. Within heartbeats, the entire arena was on its feet—not cheering, acknowledging.
A warrior had been born tonight.
---
The arena exploded into sound.
The announcer grabbed Kairon's wrist, raising it high.
"VICTORY! BY KNOCKOUT! THE WINNER—RAZE!"
The crowd's approval shook the building. Kairon pulled free as medical personnel rushed past. He turned toward the exit, body on autopilot. Enhancement fading. Exhaustion crashing.
[Sage: Victory confirmed. Chakra: 180/580. Mana: 120/530. Recommend immediate medical attention.]
Ten steps into the tunnel, the system blazed to life.
***
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: WORTHY OPPONENT DEFEATED]
[CALCULATING REWARDS...]
[REWARDS EARNED]
System Points: +3,000 SP
RANK ADVANCEMENT: Genin → Chunin (Low)
Combat capability, tactical acumen, and victory over superior opponent confirmed.
Techniques Acquired:
Body Flicker Technique (Shunshin no Jutsu)
High-speed movement via chakra burst. Range: 50 meters. Cooldown: 10 seconds.
High-Speed Thought Process
Enhanced cognitive processing—approximately 40% faster than baseline. Accelerated decision-making and pattern recognition. Synergizes with Sharingan. Passive ability.
Skill Progression:
- Taijutsu: 29% → 35%
- Kenjutsu: 26% → 32%
- Combat Tactics: Major improvement
- Enhancement Magic: Improved efficiency
Physical Attributes:
- Strength: 68 → 71
- Speed: 73 → 76
- Stamina: 63 → 66
- Perception: 78 → 80
Title Unlocked: Giant Slayer
Minor intimidation aura vs. larger opponents. Increased underground respect.
System Shop Expanded: Chunin-level techniques, enhanced equipment, bloodline development items now available.
***
Kairon stopped, staring at the interface. Three thousand points. Chunin rank. Body Flicker and High-Speed Thought Process—both game-changers.
The cognitive enhancement was already integrating. Thoughts that took seconds now crystallized in milliseconds. Combined with Sharingan prediction and Amazonian reflexes...
He'd just gained a terrifying advantage.
[Sage: The Body Flicker provides exceptional mobility. Combined with Sharingan, you'll reposition before opponents realize you've moved. And the cognitive enhancement—your processing speed increased 40%. That's transformational. Your reaction time is now top percentile.]
[Sage: The Chunin rank opens significant shop options. Recommend purchasing chakra recovery items before your next match.]
"Agreed." Kairon dismissed the interface, pushing off the wall. His hand trembled—three cracked ribs, reserves depleted.
Victory had a price. He'd paid it gladly.
He continued down the tunnel, body screaming but mind racing. Thirty-one opponents remained. Each one a source of growth.
First step taken. Proven he could compete.
But this was match one of five nights. The real tournament was beginning.
[Sage: You're smiling again.]
"Confidence," Kairon said, grin visible in darkness. "Definitely confidence."
Behind him, the crowd celebrated. Ahead, the corridor opened—medical bay, recovery rooms, exit.
He chose medical bay. Three ribs needed attention. Then rest. Then the shop. Then preparation.
Sixteen fighters remained after tonight. Tomorrow would eliminate eight more.
And somewhere in that field were opponents more dangerous than Ironhide.
The thought should have worried him.
Instead, it made his smile widen.
"Let them come."
The tunnel lights flickered. His shadow stretched long.
And in that shadow, something changed. The boy who'd entered was gone.
Someone else walked out. Stronger. Smarter. More dangerous.
Someone who'd announced to Keystone's underground that a new player had entered the game.
And he was hungry for more.
[END CHAPTER 4]