My ribs still burned from Vance's last hit. Every breath came sharp, shallow, like my chest had been lined with broken glass. Dust still hung in the air, swirling slow in the fractured light.
Somewhere through the ringing in my ears, a voice slipped in — soft, but cutting straight through the noise.
"…It's him…"
Rin.Even half-slumped against the scaffolding, blood darkening her sleeve, she said it with the kind of weight people save for disasters.
I didn't know who "him" was.But the way the elites reacted told me enough — a ripple ran through the half-circle around us. One shifted his stance just a fraction lower, like his body was already bracing. Another's jaw locked tight.
Vance noticed too.His smirk sharpened, eyes glinting with something close to anticipation."Oh… this'll be fun."
The man who'd caught his wrist — the newcomer — didn't look like someone who'd just stepped into a minefield. He looked… bored. Like he'd wandered into the wrong room at a party and was still deciding whether to leave or make himself comfortable.
"Yikes," he said, gaze drifting lazily over the wreckage, the bodies, me. "Starting without me? Now I've gotta look impressive."
Vance's smirk sharpened, but there was a flicker in his eyes — not fear, not surprise… recognition.
He let the silence stretch until the air felt thick in my lungs. Then his gaze slid to the five elites — all Green Spectra, their faint emerald glow sharpening as if they'd been waiting for this moment.
"Take him down."A pause."Let's see if the stories are exaggerated."
Stories?My head still rang from his last hit, but that word stuck.What stories? Who was this guy in front of me — the one who caught Vance's sword like it was nothing?
For a heartbeat, the elites didn't move. Not hesitation — calculation.Their stances dropped lower. Boots scraped against fractured concrete. Hands tightened around their weapons until the edges pulsed green.
They knew him. Every one of them.
The tallest rolled his shoulders like he was bracing for a storm. Another shifted her footing, weight perfectly balanced. I could feel it from here — that strange, electric pressure before a fight breaks loose.
The stranger didn't tense. Didn't even move. Just stood there, coat swaying faintly, like someone from the Academy who wandered into the wrong sparring match.
Then the elites lunged.
The air snapped like it had been holding its breath too long.
They came in like a firing line breaking formation — five streaks of motion, boots hammering the stone, each one faster than any normal fighter had a right to be.I'd seen Greens fight before. Fast, sharp, precise.But this wasn't sparring speed.This was kill-speed.
The first elite hit striking range and went high — a feint. The second was already sliding low for my rescuer's legs. The others fanned to flank, every step a coordinated attempt to drown him in angles.
It didn't work.
The rescuer didn't even raise his hands at first.He moved.
One step — and he was simply not there anymore.The low sweep missed nothing but the afterimage of his coat, and before I could blink, he'd ghosted behind the first elite. A violet shimmer snapped into existence around his forearm — half a second of a blade — and the man's weapon spun out of his hand with a metallic scream.
"Careful," the man said mildly, slipping past him. "You'll pull something."
The second elite roared and came in swinging, heavier, faster. the man's head tilted, just enough for the fist to blur past his cheek — and his counter was so sharp I barely saw it. An open palm hit the man's sternum, and the impact sent him staggering two full steps back like he'd run into a wall.
Another came from behind with a two-handed strike. The figure didn't even look. A violet bracer bloomed around his wrist, catching the blow mid-swing. His free hand flicked up and tapped the man's temple — almost playful — but it dropped him to one knee like the weight of the room had doubled.
I couldn't keep up.No — my eyes could follow his shape, but my brain couldn't connect the before and after.One second he was still, the next an elite was clutching their ribs, gasping.
Who is this guy?
The fourth and fifth elites tried a pincer, charging in sync.The man sighed, stepped back just enough for their strikes to cut through empty air, and then surged forward in a blink. He slammed his fist into one's gut, spun with the motion, and let the same spin carry a sweeping kick that clipped the other clean in the side of the head.
Both hit the ground before my heart caught its next beat.
Whoever he was…I did not ever want to be on the other side of him.
The first elite — the tall one — tried again, rage outweighing sense. His fists blurred, three strikes in a heartbeat, each faster than the last. The figure weaved between them like it was slow motion, violet constructs sparking in and out of existence around his hands only when they were needed — catching a punch here, redirecting a wrist there — never more than what the moment demanded.
"Nice effort," the figure said, voice as relaxed as if we were at lunch.Then a single elbow dropped the man flat.
Five Green Spectra.All down.And he was barely warmed up.
Vance's eyes narrowed as the last of his men hit the floor.The smirk was still there, but it had thinned into something sharper.
"I see the rumors were true," he said, circling a half-step. "They just left out how annoying you are."
The rescuer tilted his head, almost amused."Rumors? You mean the ones about me being devastatingly handsome? Can't help those."
Vance's illusions twitched — tiny distortions, like his outline wanted to slip away from reality entirely."I was hoping you'd be taller," he said, voice dripping with disdain.
"Oh, I get that a lot," the rescuer replied, stepping forward just enough for the light to catch his violet eyes. "Usually from people I knock unconscious."
They didn't say anything else.The air tightened between them — not from Spectra flares or killing intent, but from that unspoken moment when two predators decide to see which one's left standing.
Then Vance moved—
They didn't speak after that.The air between them grew taut — not from any visible power surge, but from that unspoken stillness when two predators size each other up, knowing only one is walking away untouched.
The stranger broke it first."Just so we're clear," he said, rolling his shoulders like this was some casual spar, "I don't do refunds, and I will make fun of your footwork."
Vance's jaw ticked, but he didn't answer. His outline flickered again — faint illusions bleeding in and out, like shadows trying to detach from their owner.
"Ah, the disappearing act," the stranger went on, tapping his chin. "Classic. Ever consider card tricks? Might actually fool someone."
Then Vance was gone.
He didn't sprint — he just appeared in motion, illusions darting left, right, high. My eyes couldn't track which was real, and for a second I thought he'd already landed a hit.
But the man in the long coat… didn't move like the rest of us.
One moment he was empty-handed, the next a blade of solid violet light curled out from his forearm like it had been waiting there all along.I'd seen Spectra flares before — bursts of energy, glows in the eyes — but this wasn't that. This was real. Tangible. Too sharp to be a trick of light.
He just made that. Out of nothing.
Another flicker from Vance — two copies, one diving for the stranger's blind side. The blade in his right hand vanished between breaths, replaced instantly by a shield that snapped into place with a deep, metallic thunk.
It caught Vance's strike dead-on.
"Solid swing," the stranger said, almost conversationally. "Do you do kids' birthdays?"
Before Vance could recover, the shield dissolved, reappearing as a short spear in his opposite hand. He drove it forward — not wild, not rushed, just certain. Vance bent away, barely missing the point.
My brain stalled.I didn't know who he was.But he was fighting like someone who'd been in this room, in this situation, a thousand times before.
Vance split again, three copies rushing from different angles. My gut screamed trap — but the stranger just chuckled under his breath.
"Oh, good," he said. "I was getting lonely."
And then he blurred. Not the flicker of an illusion — a real blur, like the air couldn't decide where he was supposed to be. Violet constructs shimmered into existence mid-step, switching from blade to bracer to spear faster than my eyes could track.
Every strike landed exactly where it needed to. Every block met the perfect angle. It didn't look like he was reacting — it looked like he was following a script no one else had read.
Whoever he was, he didn't fight like an ally or an enemy.He fought like the fight was already over, and we just hadn't realized it yet.
Vance's illusions coiled tighter, the edges of him splitting into a dozen moving versions — each with that same lazy menace that made your instincts scream.
The stranger didn't tense. Didn't even blink.Instead, he sighed, rolling one shoulder like he was bored."So… you're the guy I'm supposed to keep in one piece, huh? You're making this difficult."
My brow creased. Supposed to keep in one piece?
Vance blurred forward. Two illusions struck high, one swept low.The stranger's forearms lit with solid violet plates — not just light, but weight, the kind that made the air thump when they locked into place.The hits landed. The plates didn't even chip.
"You hit hard," he said, letting the shields dissolve, "but I've been hit by harder. And better dressed."
He moved before I could even process the words. One step — no, more like skipping space altogether — and he was beside Vance, catching his wrist mid-swing.A blade unfolded along his forearm, violet and seamless, as if it had been waiting there all along.
He didn't stab. He shoved — a driving strike into Vance's ribs that doubled him over, stealing the breath right out of him.A follow-up sweep with the other arm sent him sliding back across the chamber like gravity had just given up.
Vance hit the crater wall hard. Not bone-breaking hard — just enough to knock the fight clean out of him. His illusions winked away in silence.
The newcomer straightened, brushing invisible dust from his coat."That's your big bad?" he said over his shoulder, like he was checking with someone off-screen. "You people worry too much."
Nobody answered.Not Rin. Not Emi.Not me.
I just lay there, trying to figure out who the hell this man was — and why Kaito looked like he'd just let out the breath he'd been holding for minutes.
The ringing in my ears started to fade — just enough for the groans and ragged breathing of the others to seep in.Rin was still down, one arm cradling her ribs. Kaito hadn't moved since he fell. Riku was slumped against the wall, blood streaking his cheek.
And Emi—
She was on one knee, trying to steady herself, clutching the slash on her thigh. Too focused on breathing to notice the shadow closing in behind her.
One of the Greens — battered but not broken — was limping for the exit… and her. His grip tightened on the short blade in his hand.Not a killing blow — no, his stance was wrong for that. He was angling to grab her, blade to throat, a bargaining chip to walk away alive.
I couldn't get up. My legs refused. My arms felt like stone.
But my eyes stayed locked on him, and my chest tightened until I thought it might crack.
No. Not her.
Something deep in me pulsed — not in my muscles, but in my Spectra.My right hand lifted on instinct.
The world narrowed.A burst of green lit my vision, swelling outward in a curved plane just as the blade came down.
It hit my shield with a crack that split the air.The impact shuddered through my bones.
The Green reeled back, eyes wide — his blade stopping dead against the glowing barrier.Then, like glass under a hammer, my shield fractured.Lines of light spiderwebbed out from the impact until it burst apart in a rain of fading shards.
"Not bad, kid," a voice said — smooth, amused, and way too close.
The man was there, one eyebrow raised like he'd just caught me passing a surprise test."Remind me to have you block for me sometime."
Before the attacker could recover, the figure moved — a single, casual step, forearm blade snapping into place in a flash of violet. He struck once, not killing, but with enough force to send the man sprawling and unconscious before he even hit the floor.
My sight blurred.The last thing I caught was the rescuer glancing down at me with a faint smirk, violet light fading from his arm.
Then the floor rushed up, and everything went black.