Amid the chaos, Azumi crouched beside a fallen pine, breath sharp, blood trickling down her cheek. She wiped it with the back of her glove and glanced to her left.
"Knoxx, you good?"
"Alive. Slightly annoyed," he muttered, one knife clenched between his teeth, the other spinning between his fingers. "And very ready to stab something."
The battlefield around them cracked and hissed with Solena warfare—flames lighting trees, stone walls erupting, and bursts of kinetic force ripping branches from above. But through the noise, a cold, synchronized voice echoed from the mist beyond.
"Target acquired."
Two figures stepped forward in perfect unison.
Identical, down to the last detail—short black coats with white trim, gloves lined with embedded crystal, pale faces, violet eyes. Their movements mirrored each other unnervingly, every step falling at the same rhythm.
"Samurai," said the one on the left.
"Dual-Threat," said the one on the right.
Azumi said, "Odd. Did they classify us using our masks? Samurai—that's because of my katana, huh? And Knoxx…"
Knoxx's eyes narrowed. "Stalkers."
"Correct," the twins said in eerie sync. "We are Riuki and Ikuir. You face not one—"
"—but two minds, one consciousness."
Knoxx scoffed. "Great. That isn't creepy at all."
Azumi stood tall, spinning her katana in each hand. "Connected brainwaves," she murmured. "Like mirror clones… but real."
"Precisely," Riuki said.
"We share thoughts, reactions—perception," Ikuir added.
"In other words," they said together, "we fight as one."
In a blink, both twins vanished.
Azumi's instincts flared. "Knoxx, move—!"
A kick struck her from behind. She spun mid-fall, blade out, only to hit air.
Switched places?
Knoxx deflected a strike aimed at his throat, only for Ikuir to appear in front of him and jab with a stiffened palm.
They weren't just fast. They were teleporting—or more precisely, swapping positions in the blink of a thought. No flash, no noise. Just a sudden, glitch-like shift.
Knoxx ducked low, tossing a knife that grazed Riuki's shoulder—only for him to vanish and reappear as Ikuir, the knife continuing past harmlessly.
"This is going to be a problem," Knoxx growled. "Can't land a hit if they keep trading."
"Then we stop thinking one-on-one," Azumi replied, narrowing her stance. "You and me—opposite rhythm. Desync them."
"Like music?"
"Exactly."
Knoxx grinned. "Worth a shot."
They launched forward together—Azumi straight into Riuki's path with a flurry of blade strikes, each move designed to box him in. Riuki blocked and parried, eerily calm, and vanished mid-combo—only for Ikuir to appear behind her.
Before he could strike, Knoxx hurled a blade—not at Ikuir, but to the left of him, where Riuki was sure to swap in.
The knife clinked off crystal-gloved fingers. Riuki appeared and stumbled back, surprised. He was bleeding.
Azumi didn't wait. She spun, slammed her boot into Riuki's side, and caught the returning knife in midair. She lunged, pressing the assault.
But the twins weren't done.
"You adapt well," Riuki muttered, face now tight with irritation.
"But we learn faster," Ikuir said, swapping mid-sentence.
Their speed intensified. Now they swapped between every strike. A punch from one became a kick from the other. A feint became a real attack—but from a different body. It was like fighting a shifting mirage.
Knoxx ducked low, sliding under a twin's leg sweep and kicked upward into the gut—but hit nothing.
"Damn it," he spat, rising.
Azumi growled, arms cut in several places. "They're accelerating…"
Knoxx glanced at her, then nodded. "Then let's cheat."
He reached into his satchel and pulled out two smoke bombs.
Azumi immediately understood.
"Now."
He tossed one to her and they simultaneously slammed them against the ground. A burst of dense smoke engulfed the clearing.
The twins paused, momentarily blinded. For the first time—they hesitated.
"Vision obscured—"
"Unacceptable variable—"
Azumi's whisper slid through the fog. "This one might hurt."
Azumi's katana clipped Ikuir's shoulder—thrown just wide enough to look like a miss. But this time, it was a distraction.
Knoxx burst from the smoke behind Riuki, both daggers aimed for vital points.
He tried to swap—but so did Ikuir.
The sync failed. They both jerked in opposite directions—too late.
Knoxx's blades found their mark—one in the side, the other in the thigh. Riuki gasped, collapsing.
Azumi emerged behind Ikuir and elbowed him hard in the back of the neck, knocking him unconscious.
The smoke cleared slowly, revealing the two twins sprawled on the forest floor—separated at last.
Azumi stood above them, catching her breath, blade still drawn.
"Guess two minds…" she said between gasps, "can still make one big mistake."
Knoxx chuckled, wiping blood from his jaw. "Damn right. That's why it only takes one idiot like me to ruin your whole system."
They bumped their fists in a silent celebration.
The forest roared with Solena. Trees snapped, leaves burned, and the earth itself trembled as the battlefield shattered into violent pockets of combat. Smoke drifted between the evergreens like slow-moving ghosts.
A sharp whistle cut through the chaos.
Hatori stepped into the clearing—calm, centered, unarmed.
His opponent stepped forward with measured reverence.
The Stalker wore flowing crimson robes threaded with black scripture. Thin slips of inked paper fluttered from his sleeves, and six floating orbs hovered behind him in a perfect circle, each humming with quiet energy. A long veil obscured his face, but not the unsettling weight of his presence.
"You are the one they call Reverb," the man said. "I have long desired to measure myself against your rhythm."
Hatori tilted his head slightly. "Then stop talking."
The Stalker bowed his head.
"I am Seirak. Master of Echo Tether."
The orbs chimed softly—like glass struck underwater. Then they split. Six blurs shot in different directions, positioning themselves around Hatori at impossible angles. A pulse rolled through the air. The ground vibrated.
He's setting a field, Hatori realized.
Seirak vanished in the blink of an eye.
Hatori slid to the side—narrowly avoiding a palm strike behind his jaw. But before he could exhale—
Another orb chimed. A strike hammered his ribs from the left. Not Seirak. A projection—no, a tethered strike echoing from the orb's position.
Hatori's feet skidded across the dirt.
He's bouncing his hits across points in space.
Another ring. This time, an echo of Seirak's knee smashed into Hatori's shoulder. He staggered, rolling with the momentum to keep from collapsing.
Seirak reappeared only long enough to whisper:
"Echoes linger… even when the source is gone."
Then he vanished again.
The orbs pulsed—one, then two, then all six.
A storm of invisible blows erupted around Hatori. Echo strikes from all directions, each ricocheting unpredictably between orbiting points. Every hit sounded delayed, as if time itself hiccuped. Hatori blocked three—but four more slipped through, rattling his bones.
He exhaled sharply.
This technique… it's not just fast. It's layered.
A rare flicker of annoyance crossed Hatori's brow.
Seirak's voice emanated from everywhere at once. "You are drowning, Reverb."
Hatori nodded once. "Then I'll listen deeper."
He closed his eyes. The forest fell away. Everything around him seemed distant. Every thought was silenced.
All he focused on was—pulse.
Each orb emitted a faint vibration, barely audible. A frequency. A note.
Hatori inhaled slowly.
His ability—Resonant Flow—shivered beneath his skin. The world sharpened. Each vibration formed a pattern. A beat.
Left orb: sharp tremor.
Right orb: low hum.
Upper orb: delayed echo—
Lower orb—
There.
He stepped back an inch—and Seirak materialized, fist passing where Hatori's throat had been.
Seirak jolted. "He dodged—?!"
Hatori didn't respond. He only angled his body, redirecting the incoming momentum with a gentle palm parry. The strike dissipated into the air, cracking like a snapped violin string.
Seirak retreated, flicking his fingers. All six orbs flared bright. Echoes stacked—three layers deep.
A hurricane of delayed strikes unleashed, each blow punching holes into the earth, shattering branches and ripping bark off trees. Hatori moved like he was weaving through raindrops—barely missing hits that tore grooves into the ground beside him.
Still, one caught him. A crack exploded across his cheek. Blood ran.
Hatori touched it with two fingers. "…Not bad."
Seirak's veil fluttered in satisfaction. "You bleed. That is enough."
The orbs pulsed again, prepared for a final collapse. But Hatori stepped forward—slow, steady.
"Your rhythm is loud," he said quietly. "Predictable when understood."
Seirak's voice cracked with anger. "Impossible! My echoes are flawless!"
"Not flawless," Hatori corrected. "Just noisy."
Hatori launched forward. Not fast or flashy. Just perfectly timed. He flowed between the pulses, matching the delays, stepping into the gaps between echoes. Each movement dissolved the attack before it existed.
Seirak panicked. "No—stop—!"
Hatori's eyes opened. His expression was calm and focused. He struck once—a palm to Seirak's chest.
But the strike didn't hit Seirak's body.
It hit the rhythm inside him.
A devastating shockwave erupted, firing upward into the sky, scattering all six orbs like shattered bells.
Seirak crashed into a tree, the veil slipping from his face. He coughed blood, body trembling from internal disruption.
"But… how…?" he whispered.
Hatori wiped the blood from his cheek. "I didn't read your moves," he said. "I read the silence between them."
Seirak's breath caught—half awe, half despair.
"…Beautiful," he murmured weakly. "Your rhythm… is beautiful."
Hatori stepped past him. "Appreciate it."
Seirak slumped unconscious as the last orb flickered and died like a candle in the wind.
Elsewhere, deeper into the brush where sunlight barely pierced the trees, Tsuki stood alone—facing two stalkers, circling like wolves.
One floated slightly off the ground, her feet never touching earth. A cloak of mirrored glass plates shimmered around her like scales.
The other cracked his knuckles, fire curling between his fingers. His arms were layered with blackened iron—his skin burned and reformed constantly as if in a state of volcanic eruption.
"You're a fast one," the floating woman said. "But can you dance while watching two flames?"
"You'll crack eventually," the fire-wielder grinned. "Everyone does."
Tsuki didn't respond. Her mask was on—split black and white. Her eyes burned with focus.
The woman struck first—glass panels shooting forward like knives, each one redirecting midair in impossible angles.
Tsuki darted between them, feet light, each movement precise. She flipped, ducked, and used a tree trunk to push off into a spin-kick that launched one shard back at its owner.
But the fire-user was already charging—his punch a molten comet.
She blocked with her forearms—barely—and skidded backward from the force.
They're coordinated, she thought. She zones me, he closes in.
But Tsuki had grown. With every fight, she learned to adapt. Quickly.
Her eyes flicked left—then right. She ran toward the fire user. "Bold," he barked.
She ducked his swing, stepped inside his reach, and slammed her palm into his chest—charging Solena directly into his core.
He staggered, coughing steam, and reeled back.
The floating woman responded with a swirl of glass—creating a cyclone around Tsuki.
She channeled her Shadow Manipulation, launching herself upward.
Glass twirled beneath her like a storm. But Tsuki landed on a tree branch above the battle, flipped, and hurled twin Solena shadow discs from above.
They shattered the cyclone, sending glass into the trees.
The floating stalker stumbled, trying to recalibrate.
That's when Tsuki dropped in behind her, low and fast, slamming her heel into the back of her head with a thud.
The fire-user roared and charged again.
But Tsuki rolled beneath his wild swing, grabbed a stray glass shard, and stabbed it into the molten seams between his armor.
He screamed—Solena surging outward in an uncontrolled burst—and collapsed.
Tsuki stood over the two of them, breathing heavily, steam rising from her hands, which were slightly burnt from contact.
Her arms trembled but she stood tall. She gathered a breath, and took a final look at the two limp bodies.
We need Viper. Now, Tsuki thought, slipping into her shadow and vanishing from sight.
All that remained behind her were scattered glass shards and the charred bark of trees, still smoldering beside the stunned wielders.