Those skills. What she said. There’s only one answer I can think of. She was an assassin before the Tower. The class that was offered to her wasn’t a new calling she had to undertake like us—it was just a title stamped on what she already was.

  Mei was transported back to the stands, materializing beside Maya. Maya slid several feet away without hesitation. “You’re an insane one, aren’t ya?” she muttered, putting distance between them.

  Mei sat down once Maya was a dozen or so feet off, resting her hands neatly on her lap. Her voice was smooth. “I’m quite sane.”

  I didn’t believe her. I do not feel safe with her around us.

  Jackie used to talk about assassins sometimes. Said China held the most experienced, most disciplined killers in the world. I didn’t put much weight into the stories back then, but seeing Mei in action... maybe Jackie was right. It was even whispered that the attempt on Araki Shirogane’s life had been carried out by one of those assassins, hired by the CCP to provoke a war. Shirogane survived only because the assassin was gunned down mid–knife throw.

  Sosuke summoned his sword into his right hand. The light wrapped around him, swallowing him whole, and then he was gone—placed in the center of the arena. Another flash of light flickered, and a second sword formed in his left hand.

  Across from him, the clone stood with only one. That should have been an advantage for Sosuke, but the way the clone gripped its weapon—it was anything but disadvantaged.

  The clone swung wide, one enormous slash. The arc wasn’t just an attack. It was a wall. A cleave that sliced the very air, stretching edge to edge across the entire arena.

  That’s how strong Sosuke is?!

  Sosuke crossed both blades and braced himself. The clang shook the ground, sparks scattering like fireflies. He held, teeth clenched, shoulders locked. The pressure was suffocating for me. He forced the clone’s strike back, then broke away in a burst of movement, countering instantly. Both swords came crashing down in a twin strike, cutting across the clone’s shoulders. Before the echo of impact faded, Sosuke ripped them upward in a mirrored slash, reopening the same lines, deeper and harsher.

  No wasted motion. No pause.

  Sosuke surged forward, faster than even Eli had at his peak. The clone met him in the middle, and for a moment the entire arena was nothing but steel.

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  He inhaled. Then it began.

  Left.

  Right.

  Top.

  Left.

  Forward.

  Bottom.

  Left again.

  Six strikes I could follow. Just six.

  And then nothing but blurs.

  The air screamed. His swords became silver arcs, vanishing and reappearing with each breath. He was overwhelming. Hundreds of strikes compressed into seconds. At least a couple dozen every heartbeat.

  Still... the clone blocked everything.

  Every swing collided with another. The sound was like a hailstorm of blades battering against each other.

  Eli stepped up beside me, his voice unsteady. “W-what the... Sosuke’s speed... it outclasses mine easily.”

  I grabbed his shoulder, demanding, “Tell me!”

  He swallowed hard, eyes locked on the carnage. “Two thousand meters a second. It’s rising.”

  Two. Thousand.

  I forced my gaze back down to the arena. The clone was being driven backward, step by step, until its back met the black brick wall. Sosuke’s breath came heavy, sweat dripping down his face, but his blades didn’t stop.

  He broke the rhythm suddenly—one kick. His heel sank into the clone’s stomach. The clone gagged and stumbled.

  Sosuke switched his left blade into a reverse grip, then carved downward in a vicious wheel, the black steel tracing the back of the clone’s skull. Flesh parted, bone split, and the skull tore open. Blood streamed down, but somehow—it wasn’t dead.

  Not something that had survived all of that.

  Sosuke didn’t waste time. He flicked his left-hand blade straight at the clone’s chest. A perfect throw.

  The clone raised its sword and cut the weapon in half.

  Wait.

  I narrowed my eyes, focusing through the haze of speed.

  The clone’s hands—cut, raw, bruised. Its arms trembling.

  Relief hit me in a wave. For a second, I thought it had blocked them cleanly. But no—it hadn’t. It used brute force, raw endurance, to survive Sosuke’s onslaught. It endured, not because it could match him, but because it refused to die.

  Sosuke raised his hand again. This time, no western blade appeared. Instead, light condensed into a different shape: a sheath and katana, real in form and weight.

  He bent low, sliding the blade into its sheath. His body settled, his breathing leveled. His stance narrowed—precise, balanced.

  The Iai stance.

  The clone seemed to sense it too. For the first time, it pushed the offensive. It lunged forward, speed so fast it blurred into nothing. It reached Sosuke in an instant, blade raised for a killing strike.

  Sosuke didn’t flinch. He bent his finger against the hilt.

  The world split.

  The next thing I saw—the clone’s head spiraled into the air, spinning away from its body. A single clean line carved into the sand, stretching from where the clone had stood all the way to Sosuke’s feet.

  I blinked.

  It was like those anime. A perfect quickdraw.

  Eli stuttered, falling backward as if the weight of the number itself crushed him. “T-t-ten thousand meters?!”

  Sosuke appeared beside him, teleported back to the stands. He looked down at Eli, who was pale and wide-eyed.

  “Not fast enough.” Sosuke muttered while wiping his mouth.

  Not fast enough? What are you trying to achieve Sosuke?! Do you really want to become a god?!

  Sosuke could’ve killed me so easily back when I challenged him. Faster than I could move, faster than I could cast a spell, faster than I could think.

  When I stood against him, I thought I was standing up for myself. That I was showing my courage.

  I realize now.

  I stared death in the face.