There was no transport, no escape. On foot alone, they could never outrun this man's hunt.
So even if summoning Mugino Shizuri himself risked severe punishment afterward, Junko Hanakaze realized she had only one option: stall for time until Mugino arrived.
And she trusted her nitriding armor would buy her that time.
"Is that so?"
Instead of worry, a grin spread across Haramura Makoto's face.
"In that case, I must speed things up."
With that word, he vanished in a flash.
Bang—
A dull thud echoed as Junko Hanakaze was sent flying by an unseen blow.
Crash—
A concrete wall erupted, and Junko embedded herself deep into its ruined structure.
"You think my speed comes solely from this device?" Makoto taunted, having noticed her stare at his wrist movements, trying to predict where he'd fire his grappling hook.
"I'm no super-strong brawler," he continued, rolling back his sleeve to reveal two small bracelet-like trump cards on each wrist. "But for some reason my muscle density is ten times that of a normal human."
"With deliberate training and development, my physical strength far surpasses human norms. That's why I can wield this contraption."
As if on display, he stepped closer, pulling his sleeve higher to reveal two compact devices on his wrists.
"A weapons expert's failed prototypes," Makoto explained. "Each wrist can launch a thirty-meter steel cable at a hundred meters per second, then retract it instantly. The tension alone could slice a veteran human in two."
"Even enhanced fighters would suffer irreparable internal damage if they used these cables repeatedly."
Makoto's tactical boots crunched on gravel as every word sunk in.
Hack—hack—
Thick smoke made Junko cough. She struggled upright, pulling herself from the rubble.
"But I use these perfectly."
"And as for my speed—"
Bang—
The ground beneath Makoto cracked. In a blink, he was before Junko again.
A fist like a sandbag rose, poised to strike.
Bang—bang—bang—
Junko's all-automatic nitrogen armor blocked the onslaught, yet under the relentless force she staggered back step by step toward the wall.
"And you—do you know the principle behind those invisible bullets?"
His barrage crashed like a storm, unceasing.
"It's akin to Iaido's draw technique, applied to guns: all in one swift motion."
Drawing the gun, aiming, and firing become a single fluid act powered by arm strength.
Her retreat routes now blocked, Junko found herself backed into the corner.
"Now, let me ask you this: removing espers' powers, comparing mere human strength and speed—are these two terms equal?"
Bang—
Another heavy fist smashed toward the wall behind her.
"Of course they're equal."
"Speed is mass. Reaching Level 4—these basic principles shouldn't elude you."
A lethal aura surged outward, capable of crushing hearts like brittle glass.
Now Junko Hanakaze looked thoroughly beaten. Though her armor absorbed nearly all the impact, her sodden form was a pitiful sight.
"But your ability is indeed useful."
"If I had punched you once, you'd be dead. You should be grateful for your power."
Junko braced with both fists reversed, calculations racing. She pressed her armored hands against the walls pinning her.
Bang—
"Our base lies in District Eleven," Makoto continued, "thirty minutes from here. By the time Mugino responds, five minutes will have passed."
"All I need to do is hold out for the remaining twenty-five."
Rising from the debris, Junko's eyes blazed with fighting spirit—the dawn of hope that victory neared.
"But do you know your nitriding armor's weakness?"
Raising her fist high, her left-arm muscles bulged and stretched the fabric.
Bang—
The loudest thud so far reverberated through the ruins.
Crack—crack—crack—
A mirror-shattering sound like hundreds of shards snapping. Junko's pupils widened in shock and fear.
"For every punch you can guard against, imagine I landed a hundred on the same spot."
Indeed—that was the defect of nitrogen armor.
Despite its astounding defense, as ancient wisdom holds, water drops wear through rock. With enough repeated impact, any defense can be shattered.
Having delivered his final explanation, Makoto lost interest in further talk.
His raised fist transformed into an iron palm.
"Looks like no more questions."