Yamato pulled his scarf tighter across his face, the mask shadowing most of his features.
He hadn't slept in a proper bed since the incident with Sen Bo Ra's family in North Korea.
Every night was the same.... leaning against a wall in the alleys, hiding under broken rooftops, or crouching in the darkness of abandoned stalls.
He refused to stay too long in one place.
The posters plastered on every wall, every pole, every corner of the city reminded him why.
"Wanted: Yamato Ishida — The Six Eyes. Bounty: $50,000."
His own face stared back at him, inked in bold strokes. A small number, laughable compared to the monsters ranked above him, yet it was enough to shake an entire country into unrest.
He lowered his cap as he walked, listening to the chatter of ordinary people around a fruit stand.
A man spat to the ground, glaring at one of the posters. "These damn bounty hunters… they don't know when to quit. It's been ten years since one of them even dared step foot in this country."
The woman beside him folded her arms, eyes narrowing. "What's more surprising is this boy's bounty. Only fifty thousand dollars. He's no big deal."
Yamato's eyes flickered at that. His chest tightened, but he said nothing. Instead, he picked up a basket of fruit, handed over some bills with a quiet nod, and walked away.
The man watched him leave. "Strange kid. Looks like he's been running for days."
The woman shrugged. "In This world, everyone's running from something."
Yamato bit into an apple as he disappeared into the alleys, his thoughts heavy.
"Why did I ever come here…? I thought I wanted to explore. I thought it would be freedom. But all I've found is chains. Chains, and the truth of how wicked Koruzan is… they don't even let someone breathe without permission. And all because I'm a bounty hunter."
He stopped at a wall covered in his own posters. Dozens of versions, some newer, some already weathered and torn, staring back at him with cold wanted eyes.
Yamato clenched his fist.
"Was saving that girl a mistake…?"
The wind blew, carrying the sound of boots heavy, organized, and drawing closer.
Yamato froze, his eyes narrowing beneath the scarf. He knew that rhythm. Soldiers. No.... hunters.
Shingo's voice cut through the cold air like a blade.
"You there! Yamato Ishida... place your hands behind your head calmly and come with us!"
Yamato froze mid-step, his scarf fluttering in the breeze. Slowly, he raised one hand and placed it on his head, his other arm hanging loose by his side.
Shingo's tone hardened, sharper and more commanding.
"I repeat, raise both hands and place them on your head immediately!"
Yamato's fingers twitched. In a flash, he brought up his other hand, not empty, but clutching an apple.
With a flick of his wrist, the fruit flew like a bullet, slamming directly into Shingo's stomach.
Shingo staggered, a sharp gasp escaping him as he dropped to one knee, his breath knocked out. "This… strength…" he thought, "…it's dangerous."
Yamato didn't wait. He spun on his heel and bolted, his footsteps echoing through the empty street.
By the time Shingo recovered, his jaw clenched. His calm demeanor cracked just enough to reveal a glint of excitement.
He launched forward in pursuit, the distance between them vanishing like smoke.
A gust of wind ripped past as Yamato skidded to a stop and drew his sword, the blade wrapped in its cloth catching the light. His blue eyes flickered beneath his scarf as he turned to face his pursuer.
Shingo landed gracefully a few meters away, his own aura steady and unreadable.
"You're faster than I gave you credit for," he said, his voice low but clear. "I'm impressed."
Yamato's grip on his sword tightened.
He let out a short, humorless grin.
"I'm impressed you caught up," he said, tilting his head slightly.
In his mind, the thought burned like fire:
"At least… if I'm going to die… let it be glorious."
The two stared at each other, tension thick as steel, the quiet street now a battlefield waiting to erupt.
Shingo leapt first, his blade flashing downward like a streak of lightning.
Yamato caught it in time, his own sword braced defensively. The impact sent a shockwave through the street, rattling windows. With a sudden burst of strength, Yamato twisted and blew Shingo back.
They slid apart, steel scraping the ground, then launched forward again.
Steel met steel, over and over, their strikes like thunder, their movements too fast for the human eye. Sparks exploded around them, the sound of clashing swords echoing through the city like fireworks.
From a rooftop, several tag force members watched in awe.
"Tch… look at that," one muttered, voice shaking. "The dangerous Six Eyes… against the Super Tag Force of the Third Core… this is insane!"
A female voice whispered, her eyes wide.
"I can't even see their swords anymore… only rays of light flashing across the city…"
The ground split beneath their feet as the battle raged.
Yamato suddenly pulled a feint, twisting under Shingo's guard. With a brutal kick, he sent Shingo crashing into the ground. The earth erupted, dust and debris rising like a storm.
Yamato descended slowly, sword in hand, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"It's over," he said coldly. "Give it a rest. You've been defeated."
Shingo's body trembled as he pushed himself to his knees. His breathing was heavy, but his lips curved into a smile.
Then his left eye shifted, the sclera turned pitch black, the iris glowing white. Tears of blood streamed down his cheek.
In a broken, almost reverent voice, he whispered:
"…Demon Blood of the Seven Realms."
His sword began to glow, soaked in blood that twisted and reshaped the blade into something new, monstrous, dripping with malice.
Before Yamato could react, a crimson slash ripped through the air.
His chest opened in a spray of blood. He staggered back two steps, clutching his wound, his breath ragged.
But then… he grinned.
"No need holding back then."
His blue eyes ignited, glowing like two burning stars. In that instant, he could see through everything, every movement, every intention, Shingo's blade arcs laid bare before him.
Yet Shingo's speed was overwhelming, each swing faster than the last. Yamato dodged some strikes, but others tore through him, painting his body in crimson.
Shingo laughed maniacally.
"Hah! I thought you were strong.... but look at you now! Covered in your own blood!"
Yamato raised his head, his face shadowed, his eyes blazing blue. His voice was low, calm, and chilling.
"…Or am I?"
The ground beneath them cracked. Suddenly, bolts of lightning surged upward, tearing through the earth.
A pillar of raw power exploded beneath Shingo, hurling him into the sky. Two entire buildings crumbled as the blast consumed them, thunder rolling across the city.
Shingo was seriously injured, blood dripping from his lips, when a strong gust of wind swept across the battlefield.
In an instant, the old man, Hyung Hun, commander of the First Core, appeared, standing firmly in front of him.
With one hand gripping a massive sword nearly as tall as himself, its width like a shield, Hyung Hun blocked Yamato's follow-up attack.
"It's alright now," the old man said calmly, his voice carrying authority. "I'll continue from here."
He then stretched out his left hand, the air around him distorting violently.
"Repulsive Force."
A surge of invisible energy expanded in all directions, forming a dense barrier that swallowed the streets and shattered nearby structures. Within moments, a 20-kilometer radius of pure force separated them from the outside world.... isolating both Yamato and Hyung Hun inside the storm.
Shingo, gasping for air, smiled weakly as he leaned against the rubble. "You're done for now… Yamato Ishida."
Yamato, standing across the field with his sword resting lazily on his shoulder, raised an eyebrow. His tone was dry, unimpressed.
"What's that supposed to be?"
The old man didn't reply. His aura thickened, heavy, ancient, almost suffocating.
He lifted his sword high into the air, veins of red light crawling along the blade like living veins.
Then, without warning, he struck Shingo in the back.
The impact was silent yet horrifying. Shingo's eyes widened as blood burst from his mouth.
Yamato's own eyes widened too. What…?
For a moment, confusion filled the air, no one moved. Then realization hit Yamato: this was his only chance.
He smirked faintly beneath his mask.
"An internal betrayal… or a ritual? Either way, I'm not sticking around to find out".
The next second, his form flickered like static. A ripple of blue light followed, then he vanished without a trace, leaving only dust and the echo of his departure behind.
The battlefield fell silent.