"The Light-Body Art… Night-Treading Step, is it…"The commander's voice rumbled across the control room, a chamber alive with monitors, blinking signals, and the ceaseless hum of machines.
The air grew taut. Officers glanced sharply at one another before breaking into a confused murmur.
"What is that?"
"I've never seen it in the database…"
An older officer at the front table lifted his head. A veteran, scarred by more battles than most in the room could imagine, his voice trembled faintly—but reverence bled through every syllable.
"The Light-Body Art… was once divided into four stages."
The room fell deathly silent. All eyes locked onto him.
"First stage Dancing Phoenix. Merely the foundation, yet it doubles one's speed over ordinary men. A child who begins training young would still require a decade before they can master stable steps."
Breaths hissed across the room, a collective shock from those who had never heard such lore.
"Second stage Night-Treading Step." He swallowed hard before continuing, voice low. "Tenfold swifter than the first. But the price… only those with immense inner strength can endure it. Without such reserves, the body tears itself apart the moment the first step is taken."
The central screen flickered, showing Kira upon a rain-slick rooftop, his footsteps soundless, his figure vanishing amidst the storm like mist swallowed by the night.
"Third stage Riding the Crane." The veteran's eyes never left the screen. "Beyond speed—this stage allows flight itself. The practitioner may linger in the air for minutes… drifting as if a bird across the heavens."
The atmosphere thickened, no one daring to shift in their seats.
"And the final stage…" His voice sank to a near whisper, like a man recounting legend. "Immortal Treading the Clouds. Only written in theory… it is said those who attain it may hover in midair, as though standing upon the clouds themselves."
The officers stared, transfixed. Rain streaked across the screen, but around Kira it seemed to slow, as though the storm itself bent to his steps.
A single officer muttered, voice trembling with awe and fear. "That boy… he's already entered Night-Treading Step?"
"Twenty years old… and he's using the second stage? That's impossible…"
The commander's eyes hardened, fixed on the image of the boy streaking across rooftops with inhuman speed, vanishing with each strike of rain. The chatter of subordinates could not pierce his focus.
If that dwells within him… then such instinctive power is no surprise. But we cannot allow him to grow accustomed to it.
His jaw clenched, teeth grinding. With a snap of his gaze, he seized the microphone, his voice a thunderous command.
"Shadow Three. The target's ability is movement only—no structured combat technique. Adjust your attack rhythm to one-point-five. Force him into the air… and finish it."
The comm crackled before a deep voice replied. "Shadow Three, acknowledged."
In the rain-drenched alley, the black-clad assassin touched his ear, confirming the order. His grip tightened around the longsword. Violet lightning crawled up the blade, engulfing his arm, while sparks rippled across the water at his feet like a nest of waking serpents.
His eyes, hidden beneath the mask, did not waver. He crouched low, coiled for the kill.
"You deaf or something? I told you you've got the wrong guy!"
Thunder boomed in the distance, yet Kira's voice carried sharp and defiant. His teeth clenched as he shouted again, words sounding almost like an excuse to himself.
"And the only reason I can even do this… is 'cause my parents were strong! I just inherited their body. I don't know a damn thing about your Prana tests!"
The assassin did not answer. His foot slammed into the puddled ground, violet arcs flashing outward, then his body launched skyward—not gliding with grace, but exploding upward with raw force. He tore through the storm like a bolt of living thunder.
Before Kira could brace, the assassin was upon him. A sweeping kick slammed into his side.
"Ghkk!"
Kira tumbled across the tiles, rooftops cracking beneath him. By sheer instinct he clawed balance back before he could fall into the void below.
But the killer gave him no reprieve. He advanced without mercy, sword raised high, then drove it down. The rooftop detonated in sparks, arcs writhing like a nest of serpents spewing venom into the dark.
Shattered tiles sprayed outward. Kira's eyes widened. With no room to retreat, he vaulted upward into the storm.
The trap was sprung. Midair, with no cover, he hung exposed.
"Shadow Three, execute target."
The assassin's voice was flat over comms. He lifted the blade above his head. Violet lightning condensed until it blazed white-hot, brilliance blinding as though thunder itself had been compressed into a single edge.
"Thunder fang's Roar!"
The name of the technique thundered across the rain like a verdict of death. The longsword gleamed with searing light, the roof beneath his feet fracturing under the sheer pressure of gathered Prana.
He rose into the air, an abomination of storm and steel, lightning bursting outward to rend the heavens, thunder roaring like a beast across the tempest.
Kira, suspended helpless in midair, looked up at the descending blade. His heart pounded, blood drummed in his ears, his body quaking beneath the suffocating tide of power.
He knew this was the line between life and death.
Then, a low warning broke through the storm, sharp over comms.
"Thermal spike incoming! Shadow Three, disengage immediately!"
The warning had barely ended when light tore the storm apart. A blazing lance, scorching bright, ripped through the rain like a heavenly spear. The scream of torn air split the city as the beam hurtled toward them.
The assassin reacted on instinct. His blade snapped up, Prana surging into a barrier of lightning. White and violet clashed with the incoming inferno
BOOOOM!
The explosion rattled the world. The assassin howled, arms numbed by the violent clash. Though he diverted the blast, the recoil was overwhelming. His body was hurled aside like a rag doll, smashing through another rooftop in a shower of debris.
Kira staggered, panting atop a distant roof, his eyes wide. That… hadn't been his doing. The devastating beam that drove Shadow Three back it came from someone else.
And then, amidst the rain and ruin, a voice crackled across comms.
"You finished charging that shot eighty-three seconds ago, didn't you?" The man's tone was low, cool, edged with reprimand.
A girl's playful voice chimed in, lilting like a laugh. "Sure, but saving it for the climax makes it cooler, don't you think?"