As soon as Stain finished speaking, he suddenly vanished from sight, moving more than twice as fast as before.
Yet in Madara's eyes, he was still moving in slow motion.
Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
Under the dim streetlight, Stain's blade flickered through the air, silver arcs flashing in every direction, bright against the dark alley walls.
In just a few dozen seconds, Stain had swung his sword hundreds of times, each strike landing precisely on the blue skeletal barrier surrounding Madara.
But to Stain's growing disbelief, none of his attacks could so much as scratch it.
Only then did he realize just how serious the situation was?
His Quirk—Bloodcurdle—relied on ingesting an opponent's blood to paralyze them. The amount of time the paralysis lasted depended on their blood type. But at this rate, he couldn't even land a single cut, let alone draw blood.
In all his years, he could count on one hand the enemies whose defenses he'd been unable to break. Madara had just joined that list.
"Have you had enough?" Madara finally spoke, his voice calms as he watched Stain come to a halt, breathing raggedly. "Is it my turn now?"
"Dam,n it…"
Behind Madara, Death Red Fist still struggled desperately to move, but it was no use.
He knew Madara's Quirks were powerful, but no matter how strong someone's ability was, without real training or combat experience, it was close to worthless in a fight like this.
"I said it before—find a pro Hero!" Death Red Fist shouted hoarsely, nearly losing his voice. But Madara acted as though he hadn't heard him, stepping forward without hesitation.
Death Red Fist felt ready to collapse from frustration.
"Heh… Kid, I'll admit your Quirk is strong," Stain rasped, eyes bloodshot, "but you're still far too naive to think you could be a Hero."
"Whoever said I wanted to be a Hero?" Madara replied evenly, hands tucked into his pockets. Under the moonlight, his eyes glowed an even deeper crimson.
"…What?" Stain frowned, uncertain he'd heard correctly.
"I mean exactly what I said." Madara tilted his head slightly, glancing at Death Red Fist behind him. "I just think he seems worth saving. That's all. Nothing more."
"You—!"
Stain's expression twisted. He clenched his sword so hard the leather grip creaked under his fingers. "Originally, I planned to leave you alive. But after hearing that…I'll take your life right here!"
The words hit something raw inside Stain. Of all people, he understood the true meaning of being a Hero—and he despised nothing more than those who treated saving lives as a mere whim.
And in his eyes, Madara wasn't even a Hero—just a reckless meddler. That alone was reason enough to be judged.
Fwoosh!
Stain's silhouette blurred as he began ricocheting rapidly between the alley walls, becoming a swarm of dark afterimages meant to disrupt Madara's focus.
But to Madara, it was almost laughable.
With the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan active, he could see everything in perfect clarity.
Whoosh!
In an instant, the blue skeletal armor around Madara dissolved, and he reappeared at Stain's side. Without a shred of hesitation, he seized Stain by the collar and flung him away.
Crash!
Stain's back slammed into the brick wall with a deep, echoing thud that made Death Red Fist's skin crawl just from hearing it.
Shakily, Stain struggled to his feet, disbelief written all over his face. "Cough…How…How is this possible?!"
How old was this kid—fifteen? Even with daily training, no one that age could have strength like this.
Is it a composite Quirk…? Stain's mind raced. He searched Madara's eyes for some clue, but all he found were those blazing tomoe locked on him.
Ahead of him, the blue skeletal form ignited again, like a translucent flame that pushed back the darkness with every step Madara took.
The pressure was suffocating.
When Madara was only ten paces away, he paused, staring straight into Stain's eyes.
Stain tightened his grip on the dagger, muscles coiled, ready to strike at the slightest opening.
The next instant, Madara vanished again—so fast that Stain's eyes couldn't track it.
He reappeared right in front of him, close enough to touch.
"I'm not going to kill you today," Madara said quietly. "But I'm taking him with me."
Before Stain could answer, Madara turned and punched the wall beside them.
BOOM!!!
The entire section of masonry exploded, collapsing into a pile of rubble that buried half the alley.
Stain's pupils contracted in horror. He knew with absolute certainty—if that punch had landed on him, he wouldn't be standing.
"You alright?"
"You…dare!"
Even knowing how outmatched he was, Stain still raised his blade. Whether he lived or died, he had no intention of backing down. It was his conviction.
"Your objection is noted."
The words were cool and dismissive.
In the blink of an eye, Madara disappeared again, reappearing at Death Red Fist's side.
He positioned himself squarely between the wounded man and Stain, turning just enough that his scarlet eyes glimmered in the dark.
"Remember my name," Madara said evenly, his gaze steady and unshakable.
"Madara…Uchiha."