Chapter Fourteen – Close to Death
(Sasuke Kiseki's Perspective)
I turned my gaze directly to the direction where the trees were moving due to the effect of the air.
The villain, (The First Hand), had just thrown him with contemptuous ease. The world was a tumbling blur of green and brown. Instinct and training took over.
Without hesitation, I used my ability (Suction Hands).
The transformation was instantaneous, a thought made flesh. The skin on my palms tingled, then became rubbery, the familiar concentric circles forming.
Using this ability, I was able to stick quickly to the tree.
My right hand, still clutching the hatchet, slapped against the rough bark of a passing pine as I flew past.
THWAP-PLICK!
The sound was loud, a wet, percussive smack of suction sealing against wood. The force of my momentum wrenched my shoulder joint with a sickening pop, sending a bolt of white-hot pain down my arm. I gritted my teeth, swallowing a scream.
And after that, I lunged directly towards (The First Hand), who was watching with great calm my rapid movements in the air.
Dangling from the tree, I caught a glimpse of him below. He stood relaxed, his head tilted, observing my acrobatic recovery with the detached interest of a scientist watching a lab rat solve a maze.
– This is interesting. Those hands can stick quickly and compress air.
(The First Hand)'s thought, and at the same time, (Sasuke) had arrived quickly.
I didn't give him time to muse. Using the suction's grip as an anchor, I kicked off hard from the tree trunk.
I used air compression and used my hands to lunge towards (The First Hand) and direct a strike with the hatchet that was in my other hand.
I released the suction with a mental command, the pop of breaking vacuum loud in the clearing. At the same moment, I pushed a burst of compressed air from my still-transformed palm, propelling myself forward like a human rocket in a straight, desperate line towards the villain.
The hatchet, still humming with the Sharpening Enhancement, swung in a vicious, whistling arc aimed at his masked head.
Swish-BOOM!
The strike was fast.
But with extreme ease, (The First Hand) avoided that strike.
He didn't even seem to move his feet. He simply leaned back, a fluid, almost lazy motion, letting the razor-sharp, enhanced blade pass millimeters from the ceramic fingers of his mask. The displaced air ruffled his torn suit jacket.
After that, using the knife that was in his hand, he was able to move it quickly.
In the same motion of leaning back, his right hand—which had been holding one of his twin knives—flicked outward. The blade became a silver streak aimed not at my body, but at my face, a precise, retaliatory stab.
The feeling of the blade that was beside my face almost made me feel chills.
I felt the cold kiss of the metal, the faint scent of oil and ozone as it sliced the air next to my cheek.
I used the suction ability quickly and pushed air and avoided the knife that was about to cut my face.
Mid-lunge, with no purchase, I had one tool left. I twisted my upper body, a contortion that sent fresh agony through my wrenched shoulder, and fired a concentrated blast of compressed air from my left suction-hand directly at the ground near my feet.
FWOOSH!
The reactive force, coupled with the awkward twist, threw me sideways in a clumsy, spinning cartwheel.
In one moment, (Sasuke) retreated several meters backwards.
I landed hard, skidding on the leaf litter and dirt, coming to a stop about five meters from the villain. My breath came in ragged, painful gasps. My transformed hands reverted to normal, the pink rubbery skin fading back to pale flesh. The hatchet was still in my grip, my knuckles white around the handle.
(The First Hand) says, enjoying himself:
"Your reaction is fast, even though you don't use spiritual energy."
His voice was calm, conversational, as if commenting on the weather.
"Spiritual energy? What is this?"
(Sasuke) did not understand what the man meant.
The term was unfamiliar. In all his scraping for knowledge, in all the underground forums and stolen pamphlets, he'd never heard it described that way. "Abilities" were genetic, or awakened potential. "Spiritual energy" sounded like mystic mumbo-jumbo.
But he quickly tried to think about the matter.
His analytical mind, even in the throes of combat, latched onto the new data point.
He did not know yet what ability the man possessed. For him, the man's physical ability surpassed his ability greatly.
The villain's speed, strength, and reflexes were superhuman, yet he hadn't displayed any obvious "power" like shooting beams or transforming.
He was able to interact with all his movements quickly.
Every dodge, every counter, was executed with preternatural speed and minimal effort.
But (Sasuke) was a genius in analysis, and by using his ability (Skillful Replicator), he was able to determine abilities from the finest details.
His power wasn't just copying; it came with an innate, deep understanding of the copied ability's mechanics. It made him a keen observer of powers in general.
But at the same time, he felt that his opponent had not used any ability until now.
That was what greatly puzzled him. The villain's physical prowess was itself superhuman. Was that his ability? Pure physical enhancement?
In the end, ordinary people cannot move at this speed.
The baseline was clear. No normal human, no matter how well-trained, could move as (The First Hand) did.
And for him, if he had not used the suction ability, he would not have been able to move at this speed and stick to trees.
His own enhanced movements were entirely dependent on his copied power.
The conclusion he reached was that his opponent possesses an unfamiliar ability, or that he possesses very high physical strength naturally.
Two possibilities: a subtle, body-enhancing power, or a freak of nature.
Usually, that would be bad, but at the same time, it made me more excited.
A challenge. A puzzle. A new power to potentially copy. The danger was immense, but the potential reward… His heart hammered with a ferocious mix of fear and ambition.
(Sasuke) asked while sticking to a distant tree three meters away to create distance:
"What is your ability, for hell's sake?"
He spat the words out, buying time, trying to regulate his breathing.
After that, he stopped for a second.
"But it doesn't matter. I will know it, and I will show you, you lunatic."
Thus, the fight continued at great speed.
Using his suction hand, he would stick, then use the extra hatchet in his hand, which was supplied with the cutting ability that allowed it to be sharper.
Stick-pop-launch-SWISH! Stick-pop-launch-SWISH!
He became a bizarre, arboreal predator, ricocheting between trees, using short bursts of compressed air to change direction mid-flight, launching himself at the villain from unexpected angles, each attack culminating in a savage hatchet swing.
(Sasuke) was launching fast attacks, but every attack was parried with extreme ease.
(The First Hand) didn't even bother with his knives most of the time. He would sidestep, sway, or simply catch the hatchet's handle with impossible speed and flick it away, each deflection sending a jarring shock up (Sasuke)'s arm.
Clang! Parry. Swat. Deflect.
(The First Hand) was amusing himself by parrying every attack (Sasuke) gave him.
It was a game. The villain's movements were economical, almost bored. He was testing, probing, enjoying the spectacle of the struggling youth.
The difference in physical power between the two was very clear to the extent that (Sasuke)'s breathing began to increase in speed.
(Sasuke) was panting now, sweat stinging his eyes, his muscles screaming in protest. The constant transformation and use of the suction ability, coupled with the high-intensity acrobatics, were draining him rapidly. A deep, gnawing fatigue settled into his bones.
While (The First Hand) seemed very relaxed as he moved very easily and cut meters with ease and speed as if he was not exerting any effort.
The villain wasn't even breathing heavily. He stood in the center of the clearing, a calm pivot point around which (Sasuke) wore himself out in a frantic, futile orbit.
After that, (The First Hand) said while looking at the character (Sasuke), whose breathing was a little violent, drops of sweat falling from his forehead:
"What's going on? Are you tired? For a child like you, I really thought you were a hero trying to catch me. It turns out you are just a worthless person."
The words were delivered with clinical disdain, not rage.
"Admit it, you have some good abilities. That's surprising because I feel as if you possess two abilities. Perhaps your ability is rare and has multiple uses. But you cannot use Spiritual Enhancement."
He paused, letting the term hang in the air again.
Spiritual Enhancement.
"Therefore, I suppose you have just become a student in the International Hero Academy, isn't that right?"
The man was talking as if he was explaining a lecture.
His tone was didactic, that of a teacher disappointed in a promising but fundamentally flawed student.
At the same time, (Sasuke) was feeling the difficulty of moving little by little, as his body was betraying him.
His limbs felt like lead. Each leap was shorter, each stick to a tree less secure. The burning in his lungs was a constant fire.
And his ability began to weaken little by little, to the point that he was struggling to maintain the ability (Skillful Replicator) at this moment.
Maintaining multiple copied abilities—the suction, the sharpening—was a continuous drain on something. A resource he didn't understand. His "energy." Maybe this "spiritual energy" the villain spoke of.
– What is this idiot saying? What does he mean by Spiritual Enhancement?
The term echoed, taunting him. It seemed as if that thing he was saying was very important.
It was the key. It explained everything: the villain's insane endurance, his superhuman speed even without using any special ability.
The matter for (Sasuke) was like hearing something that means something, but he reads it in a foreign language.
He didn't understand the mechanics, but he grasped the concept: there was a hidden layer to power in this world, a fuel source beyond the obvious, and his opponent had mastered it while he hadn't.
He did not understand what Spiritual Enhancement means, but he realized that it is the thing that allows his opponent to be this strong and have this endurance, in addition to making his speed superhuman to the extent that he keeps up with him even while using an ability like the suction ability that allows him to stick and compress air for acceleration.
The gap wasn't just in power; it was in fundamental understanding. He was a child playing with matches while the villain controlled the nuclear reactor.
While he was thinking, (Sasuke) did not pay attention to the movement of (The First Hand), which was faster than all his previous movements.
The villain had been lulling him, letting him exhaust himself. Now, he decided to end the game.
In one moment, he jumped towards the tree where (Sasuke) was.
The movement was not a run; it was a vertical launch. He didn't climb; he ascended, his feet touching the trunk in rapid, impossible steps, defying gravity as he ran straight up the pine tree towards (Sasuke)'s precarious perch.
The movement was so fast that (Sasuke) could only react to the moment (The First Hand) moved on the tree, which was defying the laws of physics.
It seemed as if he was running upwards.
My eyes widened. The world narrowed to the sight of the torn suit and ceramic mask hurtling towards me, a nightmare spider scaling its web.
– This is bad. I must get away.
My body was telling itself with a loud scream.
But his body did not move in the appropriate time.
He was frozen, not by a power this time, but by sheer, overwhelming shock and exhaustion. His muscles, spent and trembling, refused the command.
And in one moment, it made him fly and fall to the ground.
(The First Hand) reached him. A single, contemptuous kick, not even a full-powered blow, connected with (Sasuke)'s stomach.
THUMP.
The impact was a soft, deep sound, like a sack of grain being dropped. All the air exploded from (Sasuke)'s lungs in a pained, voiceless whoosh.
He was hit by the pain in his stomach, where the punch was delivered to the extent that his eyes were about to pop out of their place.
The world vanished into a white-hot sphere of agony centered in his gut. He felt his feet leave the tree branch. There was no controlled descent this time.
Three meters was the distance he fell to the ground.
A short fall, but he was completely limp, unable to brace himself.
But the speed of the fall was severe.
CRUNCH-THUMP.
He hit the forest floor back-first, the impact shuddering through his spine, his head snapping back and cracking against a hidden root. Stars exploded behind his eyelids.
With a boom sound, (Sasuke) fell as if he would lose consciousness.
Darkness beckoned, a warm, inviting pool. It would be so easy to sink into it.
But with the blood falling from his lips, he raised his head and tried to get up.
His vision swam, the clearing tilting nauseatingly. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, a Herculean effort. Every part of him screamed to stop.
In the moment he was standing, holding the hatchet that he did not have the courage to let go of since the first moment, even while being subjected to this quick blow, he did not drop the hatchet from his hand.
His grip on the weapon was a lifeline, the last shred of his offensive capability. His fingers, numb and bloody, were locked around the handle.
"You are a determined person. But it's time for this to end."
And for the first time, (Sasuke) felt that the masked person had used his ability.
(The First Hand) had landed silently a few feet away. He wasn't even looking at (Sasuke) with his knives raised. He was just… looking.
His dark eyes, visible through the ceramic hand-mask, fixed on (Sasuke)'s own.
(Sasuke) froze in his place. He was not able to move.
It wasn't the shock this time. It was an external force, cold and absolute, clamping down on his nervous system like a vise.
All of that after that person looked at him with one look.
The world didn't go dark. He could still see, hear, feel the agony in his body. But he was a prisoner inside it. A statue made of pain and fear.
"You are now in my grasp."
With a smile behind the mask, (The First Hand) had approached until he had a close distance with (Sasuke), who was frozen.
He took two leisurely steps forward, closing the gap. He stood over (Sasuke), looking down at the paralyzed boy struggling on the ground.
He could not move his hand. He was helpless to do anything at this moment.
His mind screamed commands, but his limbs were stones. He could only watch as the villain raised one of his knives, the blade catching the dappled light, considering where to place it.
– This is his ability. I can feel it. But what is it? I don't know. All I know is that my body now cannot move. I will die if the situation remains as it is now.
The realization was cold, final. This was the power he hadn't seen yet. The true ability. A paralyzing gaze. And he had walked right into it.
He was going to die here, in this nameless forest, on a mission for lumber, before his story had even properly begun.
The knife began its descent.
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(Tokito Kaito's Perspective)
What a terrible situation.
(Tokito) had said this while looking at the scene in front of him.
He and (Kanami) had arrived at the forest's edge, following the coordinates (Tokito) had transcribed from his manga memories. They had moved quietly, using the cover of the trees, hoping to catch (The First Hand) by surprise during his canonical early-morning "patrol" of this area.
Instead, they had walked into the tail end of a battle.
Beside him, (Kanami) had focused his eyes on the scene.
The two of them were crouched behind a thicket of dense underbrush about twenty meters from the clearing. The air here was thick with the smell of crushed greenery, damp earth, and the sharp, coppery scent of blood.
"It seems we have come too late. From this, it seems he has been caught by the villain we came to capture by coincidence."
(Kanami) had said that with calm and extreme coldness.
His voice was a bare whisper, devoid of any panic. His green eyes were analytical, assessing the frozen (Sasuke) and the triumphant (The First Hand) with the dispassionate gaze of a strategist.
And his hand was approaching the knife that was in his bag and preparing for battle, but he was waiting for (Tokito)'s words.
(Tokito), who was calm on the outside…
He forced his breathing to remain even. He forced his face into its usual mask of detached observation. His red eyes stared unblinkingly at the horrific tableau.
But his heart was beating fast.
Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump. A frantic, terrified drum solo against his ribs.
– What is going on, for hell's sake? How did the protagonist get to this place? And why? He shouldn't have won by now. If the protagonist is here, then how can he be in such a situation?
The questions were a cyclone of panic in his mind. This was wrong. This was all wrong.
For (Tokito), the scene in front of him was simply the protagonist (Sasuke Kiseki) being fixed by the ability of (The First Hand), which is (Stasis), unable to move, while (The First Hand) looked at him coldly, holding a knife as if thinking whether he should finish (Sasuke) off or not.
The narrative had been hijacked. The script was being torn up in front of his eyes.
– This is impossible. How can this happen? If the protagonist arrived first, then the matter should have ended with his victory. How can it have reached this? This matter is not part of the original story. Am I mistaken, or is there something ridiculous happening?
Doubt assailed him. Had he misremembered? Had the manga shown the protagonist struggling this much? No. He recalled a hard-fought but decisive victory. (Sasuke) had won, copied the stasis ability, and gotten a massive point bonus.
– There shouldn't be anything ridiculous happening… but this is impossible.
The evidence was irrefutable. The protagonist was seconds from death.
– What is going on, for hell's sake? It is impossible for the protagonist to be caught in this way.
His entire plan, his entire understanding of this world's narrative safety net, was collapsing. The protagonist wasn't invincible. Plot armor could be pierced.
– The knife is about to get closer.
The distance between (The First Hand)'s place had reached (Sasuke). Behind the shrubs, only a short distance away, (Kanami) lowered his breathing sound.
A soft, controlled in… out…
While (Tokito) was also watching the scene with his red eyes, which from the outside looked cold and calculating.
But on the inside, his head was spinning to process the scene he was witnessing.
The protagonist was about to die. The villain they had come to steal points from was about to kill the main character.
And they were hiding in the bushes, armed with a thief's ability and a cloud-making ability.
What in the name of all that was holy were they supposed to do now?
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End of Chapter.
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Author's Note:
Thank you for reading as the narrative violently derails,leaving (Tokito) and the readers in a state of shocked panic. Your continued readership is the only spiritual enhancement keeping this story from total paralysis. ❤️ :)
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