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The mont Chiyo revealed herself, Karl—who'd been observing everything—made the smartest move he could.
He ducked away.
A fight between master and student? He had zero interest in getting involved.
In fact, the mont he figured out Chiyo's true intentions, Karl knew this was a strictly internal matter. And the kind of internal ss he was better off not touching.
A clearly half-unhinged ninja willing to bare her soul to her own master? She'd likely carve up soone like Karl without hesitation.
He didn't mind going toe-to-toe with strong opponents. Would've been happy to clash with Chiyo under different circumstances. But a restrained duel where you're supposed to hold back and not kill?
Yeah. No thanks.
He couldn't do that.
The impression she gave off was undeniable—deadly. Not quite as fearso as Kenichiro had described, but in Karl's eyes, she ranked just beneath top-tier monsters like Kenichiro or Adam Smasher.
Ten guys like Mr. Johnson wouldn't be enough to stop her.
Backing off and lowering his threat level as much as possible, Karl watched as Kenichiro and Chiyo had already traded two rapid blows.
Kenichiro was, after all, her master—there was no one who knew her fighting style better. The mont Chiyo activated her optical camouflage and used her Sandevistan to blitz behind him with mantis blades drawn, Kenichiro had already turned to face her.
He activated his own Sandevistan. But his weapon? Not mantis blades.
Unlike the heavy cyberware requiring major body modding, Kenichiro's style was old-school—but not outdated. He drew a wakizashi from his sleeve—60 centiters long, no tsuba, just hilt and blade. Historically a samurai's backup weapon or tool for seppuku, in Kenichiro's hands, it ca alive.
Each strike of Chiyo's electrified mantis blades was expertly deflected or diverted with pinpoint precision.
Karl, watching from a distance, was stunned.
He'd heard of master swordsn who could read the core of a strike—cutting cleanly to disable and kill. He'd seen braindances that tried to depict this, but most were flashy scams. This?
This was real.
Karl cursed himself for not having a BD recorder on him. Witnessing a clash like this—worth getting singed over.
"I knew you'd use that sword!"
Chiyo snarled, withdrawing after her initial assault failed. She activated her camo again. "I knew since I was twelve that my always-stiff master kept a blade hidden in that arm!"
She blurred back into the darkness.
"Then you've still got much to learn."
Kenichiro had been fighting with only his right hand, using the grounding layer in his synthetic skin to nullify the shock of her electric blades.
His left hand?
Until now, completely empty.
But then—blink and you'd miss it—a shuriken appeared.
Effortless as picking up chopsticks, Kenichiro held it between his index and ring fingers. With a smooth flick of the wrist, he sent it flying.
Thwip.
Chiyo's optical camo left her without subdermal plating. Her tactical vest offered no real protection. Just before vanishing, the shuriken struck her shoulder.
"He's holding back—no, wait—"
Karl realized: that wasn't hesitation.
Chiyo had dodged.
And that sound? Not flesh.
Rustle.
All that remained in the dark was a discarded tactical suit—with a kunai embedded in it.
A cicada slough.
Classic ninja move. Chiyo had used the maneuver to vanish more effectively.
Wearing full tactical gear reduced the effectiveness of optical camo. She hadn't had ti to change—so she used the kunai distraction to peel away her suit, concealing herself better in only her skintight underlayer.
Where is she?
Karl and Kenichiro searched. Two seconds later—footsteps.
Four seconds into the fight.
Chiyo's rhythm was relentless—but this next move?
Precise.
Kenichiro deflected a kunai from the dark with his wakizashi. Instinct kicked in—he twisted aside just as gunfire and an explosion erupted, obscuring Karl's view in a blinding blast.
Simultaneous kunai, gunfire, grenade?
That belt she wore must've been packed.
The fireball lit up the field. In the flickering glow, Karl saw Kenichiro standing unscathed—his clothes untouched. But behind him, in the shadow his body cast, a blur erged.
Accompanied by a faint crackle and spark, the mantis blade lunged straight for his neck.
A clean, full decapitation strike.
She'd used the shadow cast by the fire, synced her camo to it, masked the sound of her electrified blades in the aftermath of the blast—all textbook.
But technique-wise—
"Still so flaws."
Kenichiro's counter-kick ca without hesitation—striking her mid-lunge and sending her flying straight into the fire.
His expression?
Unchanged. The sa stern face he wore when training her years ago.
"Rember: in firelight… the only thing you can hide… is your shadow."
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.
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