The air broke before the sound.
Karna moved first — the bow spun in his grip, the strike rising from below, straight toward the jaw.
The leader shifted the axis of his body, his left hand intercepting Karna's forearm.
The contact was minimal, but enough to break the momentum.
Karna turned his hips and answered with a lateral kick.
The other moved before the impact even existed — his forearm dropped in a short arc, deflecting Karna's leg and forcing his weight backward.
The compressed earth echoed when Karna slid half a step, feet digging into the ground.
The leader advanced.
No sound, no shout.
Only movement.
The first strike came straight on — not like a punch, but like a dry snap, the fist relaxed until the instant of impact.
Karna raised his arm and blocked, his forearm vibrating under the contact.
He reacted instinctively — pulled his left fist forward, aiming at the face.
The leader twisted his body, slipping aside by millimeters, and answered with two short strikes to the center of the chest.
No exaggeration.
Every movement began and ended at the same point — absolute efficiency.
Karna felt the impact cut through the vest, the air fleeing him for a second.
"Russian Systema…"
The thought crossed his mind between one block and the next.
The movements — no fixed rhythm, no predictable pattern.
Strikes that looked soft, but dismantled the body from the inside.
A system that used the enemy's own imbalance as a weapon.
Karna stepped back half a pace, trying to regain rhythm.
The bow spun in his grip again, targeting the shoulder.
The leader lowered his centerline, his arm rising in a spiral — redirecting and trapping Karna's forearm in one continuous motion.
The twist followed — a dry torque, using Karna's own force against him.
The bow slipped from his hand with a snap.
His body spun, one knee bending to contain the fall.
Karna tried to counter — a short elbow, straight toward the jaw.
The leader turned his head, slipping past at the last instant, and pushed Karna's elbow aside with an open palm.
The next step broke the distance — shoulder into chest.
Balance vanished.
Karna felt the world spin for a second — and then the impact.
His left knee sank into the earth, his body locking before he hit the ground.
The leader stopped in front of him — calm, breath controlled.
Karna lifted his gaze, sweat and blood mixing across his face.
Teeth clenched, chest heaving.
"Not… possible…" he muttered, voice hoarse, disbelieving.
But before he could finish, the ground vibrated — a dry, deep tremor.
The forest seemed to hold its breath.
The enemy was still staring at him, and with a calm almost ritualistic, he drew the blade.
Metal gleamed in the dim light.
He lifted his arm — slow, precise.
The blade began to descend.
Karna did not move, eyes fixed on the coming steel.
The ground trembled again — but now, with the sound, came a metallic roar.
Before the strike reached him, Isabela emerged — a blur between wind and sound.
The impact rang out.
The shield met the blade mid-arc.
The shock made the air vibrate.
Isabela braced the shield in front of her body.
The impact came heavy — the strike hit the center of the shield and vibrated up her shoulder, the sound reverberating through the metal.
Her body yielded half a step, but she held her stance, eyes locked on the opponent.
Before he could retreat, Isabela twisted her wrist, and her sword climbed in a diagonal cut, aiming for the exposed wrist.
The shield followed the movement, ready to absorb any response.
The leader deflected with precision.
His fist turned, the katana tracing a half-circle, pushing her blade aside.
His whole body moved with it — feet pivoting, center of gravity low, balance impeccable.
Isabela answered instantly: one step forward, sword dropping in a direct thrust toward the flank, shield advancing with it to cover the opening.
Steel clashed with a dry crack.
He stepped back, dissolving the impact with a turn of his torso.
His movement was contained, fluid, as if Isabela's force simply slid around his rotation.
Then, without warning, came the counterattack.
The leader twisted his hips and delivered a short, precise kick to her abdomen.
Air escaped in a grunt, and Isabela folded, stumbling one step backward.
She didn't fall.
She rolled to the side, catching her breath, sword raised, shield firm, eyes locked on the enemy.
From the flank, a shadow moved — Karna.
Light, precise, footsteps nearly silent.
The bow already drawn, the string tense, predator's eyes fixed on the leader.
Karna advanced with the ease of a feline on familiar terrain.
The bow was already set; the first arrow left with a dry snap, ripping the air in a straight line.
The leader tilted his head — a minimal shift.
The arrow passed close, shaving the mask.
He advanced without hesitation, the katana sweeping in a lateral cut toward the torso.
Karna leapt back, planted his foot, and in the same movement swung the bow, using it as a staff to parry.
The collision resonated through his body, but he held firm.
He slipped sideways, bow turning in his hands as he aimed a quick strike at the forearm — an attack from someone who knows the rhythm of his own breath.
The leader blocked with the spine of the blade, pushed the bow away and turned his body in a fluid motion, his left foot sweeping the ground.
Karna jumped over the leg, landing low, one knee to the earth, nocking another arrow already.
The katana's tip dropped — and was blocked by a shield.
Isabela stepped into the line of attack, the shield shoving the strike upward with brute force.
Steel echoed.
She twisted her body, her sword seeking the enemy's flank.
The leader stepped back, deflected the cut, and turned his wrist, redirecting her blade.
Karna took the opening and fired — the arrow loosed at close range, targeting the shoulder.
He deflected again, the katana knocking the arrow aside in midair with inhuman precision.
The impact split the shaft, the halves falling at their feet.
Isabela pressed forward.
Shield ahead, sword in diagonal, trying to drive him back.
Karna circled to the side, striking with the bow in short circular attacks, hunting for any gap.
But the leader held the field.
Every step was calculated, the katana flowing like an extension of his body.
He blocked, retreated, attacked, and redirected the force of both with minimal, almost economical movements — his body calm, his gaze cold, as if he had studied every pattern they had long before the fight began.
A quick sweep of the blade struck Isabela's shield, forcing her two steps back.
Karna tried to use the opening, but the counterattack came fast — the leader's fist knocked the bow aside, and the katana sliced the air near Karna's neck, ready to sever.
In a desperate reflex, Karna twisted his body and deflected the strike with the bow's frame, the blade scraping metal with a sharp cry.
Before the enemy could follow through, a second sound cut the air — the whistle of a blade from the side.
Isabela.
He moved without even looking.
The katana intercepted the strike midair, sparks jumping when steel met steel.
The impact sent Isabela flying back — blood already trailing from a wound on her shoulder.
Karna staggered, breath ragged, feet unsteady.
Both fell back, sweating, gasping.
The enemy didn't even look tired.
He advanced directly.
The katana carved upward through the air, aiming for Isabela's torso.
She lifted the shield, the steel rim catching the strike with a harsh clang.
The blade scraped, sliding across the metal to the center of the shield.
The force shoved her arm back, her shoulder giving half a span.
The leader kept the motion continuous: he twisted clockwise and drove his shoulder into the shield, breaking her balance.
The impact forced Isabela back a step; her right foot faltered.
In the next instant, he took the opening and swept her leg, his heel striking her shin.
Isabela lost balance.
The shield dragged her arm down and she fell on her back, the sound of her body hitting the metal floor echoing.
She tried to raise the shield immediately — but the enemy was already upon her.
The katana dropped in an arc toward her neck.
Steel found an obstacle: an arrow intercepted the strike at the last instant, diverting the blade by a fraction.
Sparks burst, the dry scream of metal-on-metal tearing the air.
The leader twisted his wrist, eyes narrowing, searching for the shot's origin — but Karna was already moving.
He came from the flank, using the bow as a staff.
He advanced in a short step, twisting his torso for momentum, and struck at the enemy's wrist.
The leader blocked, raising the katana in a defensive angle.
The impact vibrated — wood against steel.
Karna gave him no space.
He twisted, shifting weight to his front leg, and tried a horizontal strike with the bow at rib height.
The leader leaned back, the bow passing close to his abdomen.
With the gap created, he twisted his wrist and applied an uke nagashi — a classic deflection — pushing the bow off the attack line.
Before Karna could pull away, the enemy turned his wrist, pinned the bow against the katana, and wrenched it free with a sharp rotation.
The bow flew, skidding across the ground.
Karna reacted instantly.
He surged forward in a quick step, grabbed the assassin's right forearm and twisted inward, applying a wrist lock.
The movement was dry — the enemy's thumb pressed to its limit.
The katana slipped from his hand and fell, clattering against the ground.
The two stood face to face, unarmed.
Neither hesitated.
The leader struck with a straight punch.
Karna slipped aside and answered with a right cross that caught the enemy's jaw and forced him half a step back.
He tried to follow with a front kick, but the leader blocked with his knee and, in the same motion, twisted his hips and drove an elbow into Karna's abdomen.
The impact was blunt, air tearing from his lungs in a rough gasp.
Karna staggered but kept his guard.
He tried a quick sequence — punch, elbow, knee — the leader defended all of it: slipped the first, blocked the second with his forearm, and caught the leg before the knee connected.
Using the position, the leader turned, shoved Karna by the shoulder, and threw him to the ground.
Karna rolled, rose fast, and tried a straight punch — but the assassin answered with a heavy cross.
The fist struck the side of his face with force.
Karna fell to his knees.
Blood ran from the corner of his mouth, breath uneven, eyes locked on the figure before him.
The sound of steel slid from the sheath.
And before the strike descended — the world seemed to hold its breath.