The sun held the day in full grip, warm and calm, the kind of light demons could never touch. It reminded me why humanity would win in the end. But that was the least of my worries right now, especially in daylight.
More pressing things filled my head: the Crusher, and whoever sent those ninjas to hunt Pacho.
The trek to the Commander's camp dragged on too dull. Part of it was the low morale in the group. The rest was the ninja we dragged along as guide—he was bleeding out slow from multiple stabs in the hand and a knife clean through his leg.
The arm wounds were avoidable. If he'd given up the information sooner, he'd still be eighty or ninety percent fit. But he hadn't. So there's no one to blame but himself.
As we pushed deeper, he kept begging us to leave him behind. Said if he faced Commander Crusher, his life was already over. I couldn't grant him that wish. Letting him stay back while we walked into enemy ground smelled like a trap. And besides, we had no real idea what waited ahead.
Eventually he accepted I wasn't letting him go. He went quiet, meekly keeping pace, though he asked for frequent stops—to rest from the one-legged hopping, the pain burning through his body.
One of the guards showed mercy and rubbed the group's healing ointment on the worst of his wounds. At least it bought us time. The plan stayed the same: reach Crusher fast, deal with him, move on.
We broke into a clearing in the woods. The ninja, pale and sweating, shivering on his feet, pointed. "This is the camp."
Nothing looked like a camp. Just open ground. No fire pit, no charred logs, no sign of life.
"You sure?" I asked.
He nodded, teeth chattering. "Yes. This is the place."
The moment he spoke, I felt them. Above us. Five presences.
They dropped in the next breath—silent, soft as cats landing on leaves.
I had my tanto out before they touched dirt. I stepped back, putting myself between Pacho and the squad. Surprise attacks were their specialty. I'd learned that from our last encounter.
The air changed instantly. Static. Even surrounded by trees, it felt like the oxygen had thinned.
One stepped forward from the five. Hands behind his back. Same black overalls as the others,however no cloth mask around his face—But an Oni mask. Broader shoulders, harder lines, built like a hardened body builder. That had to be the Crusher.
"As expected," he said, walking to the centre of the clearing. "I wasn't sure, but I knew deep down. I'd be disappointed if the recon squad wiped you out. My gut was right—they were no match for you. You've changed. You've gotten stronger."
"Who are you?!"
He didn't answer. Instead he reached up and began untying the mask. "You guys haven't changed at all. Even from miles away, I knew you by your voices. But you can't say the same for me…"
The mask fell.
Time stretched. Seconds dragged into minutes as it hit the ground.
"Pachi…" Pacho whispered beside me.
I stared at the face in front of me. Hard. Scarred from left temple down to right chin. If this was Pachi, what the hell had happened to him?
"I don't go by that name anymore," he said. "They call me Crusher now. But I wouldn't call that my name either. Call me whatever you like."
"What the hell happened to you?" I asked.
"What happened to me? Nothing happened to me." His eyes slid past me to the ninja hostage behind. "But I'd like to ask you the same question… What happened to you? Are you working with our target now?"
"No, I swear no," the ninja stammered. "I'm just… doing them a favor. They said they'd let me live if I brought them to you, and… I know you'll kill—"
"You chose the easy way. The coward's way?"
"What? No, I—"
He realized there was no excuse left. He bit his cracked lips, yelled, and bolted—limping hard toward the trees.
Before he reached the edge, something tore through his chest. Blood and flesh sprayed. He dropped to his knees, then flat, swimming in his blood.
I hadn't seen anything pass me. No arrow, no blade. Yet the hole in him looked like something had punched straight through.
I looked at Pachi, or should I say Crusher. In his hand: a small straw doll. A needle pinned through its chest. Magic? Ninjutsu? I didn't know. But he had done it.
Sadness and rage boiled up inside me. This wasn't Pachi anymore. This was a heartless murderer who needed to be stopped before he took anyone else.
I closed the distance in a blink. Fist clenched in a tight grip. I drove it straight into his jaw.
The crack echoed. He flew back, snapping trees like twigs, tumbling through like a ragdoll.
And the dust settled. Silence stretched long.
Everyone stood frozen, the guards and pacho, the ninjas, all of us.
I glanced at my fist. The punch felt right, just enough to knock him out for good. I felt his jaw snap under the blow.
Then a crack from the woods, trees twisting and breaking.
The dust cleared, and there he stood, breathing then pacing forward slowly. Not untouched, blood trailed from his temple, but still he moved as if my punches felt like cotton in his skin.
"So you were holding back against my team?" he said, wiping the blood away.
He charged forward with a kick.
He was fast. Without a doubt, much faster than the others.
Knives appeared in his hands from only God knows where—and he swung for my face. He didn't show any hesitation. No mercy at all. Every cut aimed to kill.
I dodged, parried, and felt the wind of each blade.
This wasn't the Pachi I knew, I was dead sure about it.
I hit him on the wrist so he could let go of the blade. Two punches to the guts and finishing with a heavy one to the face, he flew back, crashed and rolled on the floor, but then again he got up to his feet. It was as if my punches weren't doing any damage, but these were the highest I could go with a human, even a little bit more force now would tear through him.
He ran at me. Went for a right fake punch, then swung a kick at my right side. I caught his leg mid-air and flung him into one of the trees. He slammed into it hard and got back up to his feet. I began to question if he was even human, because it was as if he was immune to pain.
"You should stop," I said to him. "I might kill you."
He chuckled "Me too," and clapped his hands together, whispering some strange words. Then he kicked forward—there was no attack intent, but he came at me as if with the intention of flying into me. I stretched my arm to stop him, but in the process our eyes met, and the world seemed to slow down. I could see everything: the leaves falling from trees, the distant animals frozen mid-scurry, everybody paused in the moment. Then, in that slowed space, Pachi's mouth moved—words I couldn't hear, and a loud bell rang in my ear, followed by the system's robotic voice.
[Neural Shell Triggered: Level fifteen illusion detected]
An illusion? When was the last time I encountered an illusion?
The voice came again.
[Since Neural Shell has been maxed out. Host has the ability to Counter]
That's right, the Counter sub skill got unlocked back in the mountains. I haven't had the opportunity to use it because certain criteria have never been met.
I had to test it out, for the first time. "Counter."
As soon as I said the word, Pachi's bloodlust eyes dilated, his facial muscles relaxed like he was about to sleep, and time resumed once again. He came hurtling at me, but I gave way for him to crash to the ground. He pummeled face-first into the dirt. He didn't budge, no movement whatsoever. This time, he was down for good.