In that moment, a creeping chill slithered across Nathan's spine. The boy standing across from him—no, the thing standing across from him—was no ordinary child. The air around the bald-headed novice shifted like a shadowed storm. What stared back at Nathan wasn't a boy at all. It was a predator veiled in innocence, cloaked in darkness, laced with danger.
Suddenly, Nathan realized the truth.
The mysterious wooden box the Hand Society had transported wasn't the true treasure. The most precious cargo... was the child.
Nathan's brow furrowed. "What... are you?"
But there was no time to dwell.
At that moment, Stick, the grizzled old warrior wielding a long bow, loosed another arrow, this time aimed squarely at the child. Daredevil noticed instantly, his body moving like lightning as he intercepted Stick mid-motion.
"You promised me you'd only go after the wicked!" Daredevil shouted. "Why are you aiming at a child? Stop!"
Stick's arrow veered slightly, but it was too late.
Swoosh!
The arrow cut through the air, but as it neared the novice, an invisible force distorted its flight, bending its path. Instead of striking the target, it slammed into a man behind her—one of the Hand's transport crew—who immediately collapsed, screaming in pain.
The moment the blood hit the ground, everything changed.
The novice girl clenched her fists.
Instantly, the ninjas and gang members surged with renewed power, moving with unnatural speed and aggression. The tide of battle shifted, and even Daredevil was forced onto the defensive.
Nathan narrowed his eyes. "Is that... some kind of secret technique?"
From within the gang's ranks, a leader bellowed, drawing a short blade. "Protect the vessel! Grab the box and retreat!"
A small cluster of gang members surrounded the girl, escorting her from the battlefield. Before she vanished, her cold gaze locked onto Nathan. It wasn't curiosity. It was recognition. She saw something in him—something dangerous.
Nathan saw the gang members move toward the fallen box and acted.
He leapt from the container like a missile. As someone reached for the red wooden box, Nathan hurled his shield like a boomerang. Bang! The man was sent flying. The shield returned, and Nathan landed hard at the box's side.
A few Japanese gang members shouted in fury. "Hachiga!"
They charged.
Nathan didn't hesitate. He swung his shield, meeting them head-on. Their strength and speed had clearly been enhanced—far beyond that of ordinary men. Still, he grinned.
"This is incredible. What kind of augmentation is this? I want to dissect them." He paused, eyes gleaming. "Maybe I should keep one alive."
The gang flinched at his words. His hunger for knowledge... felt monstrous.
"You think you can beat us alone?! You're dreaming!"
"We are stronger now! You'll die here!"
Their swords gleamed in the night.
"Then let's compare styles," Nathan said, pulling something from his waist. "If I use American-style Iaido, what will you do?"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunshots echoed. Three men fell instantly, bullets clean through their foreheads. Another dropped his blade, trembling, eyes glued to the smoking barrel in Nathan's hand.
Nathan smirked. "Sometimes, this is just more convenient."
He stepped forward and retrieved the red wooden box from the ground. The weight of it in his hands felt meaningful—like he now held a turning point in this strange war.
He turned to the trembling survivor. "The bald kid—what is she?"
"And what's inside this box?"
The man stammered, "I... I don't know! I'm just muscle. The Hand never tells us what we're moving!"
Nathan could tell from the man's face that he wasn't lying.
So he pulled the trigger.
The man dropped. A crimson pool spread from his temple.
"Then you're useless."
On the other side of the battlefield, Daredevil and Stick were being pushed back. The enhanced fighters were overwhelming them. Bruised and bleeding, they faltered.
Nathan watched. "If I can capture one of these enhanced ninjas alive, maybe I can get answers. And if I could learn Daredevil's healing meditation technique... that would push my regeneration even further."
His thoughts crystallized into a single decision.
He moved.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
He gunned down three peripheral fighters with swift precision, drawing attention. The enemy took the bait.
"He's the real threat! Get him!"
The bulk of the attackers turned away from Daredevil and rushed Nathan.
Ninjas moved like ghosts, dodging bullets mid-air. And the tech in Nathan's suit? His electroshock units were already depleted. His neurotoxin darts too unreliable at this range.
"Then it's melee," he muttered. "I'll have to tank some hits..."
He surged forward, shield raised high, and engaged them in brutal close-quarters combat.
One slash, a head rolled. Another swing, an arm broke.
But he wasn't invincible.
Blades pierced his side. One ninja drove a sword straight through his chest, another through his abdomen.
Blood sprayed. The injuries were severe.
And yet... Nathan stood.
He removed the blades with a grunt and stared at his enemies, unaffected.
"What... what is he?" one of them gasped. "He's not human!"
Daredevil and Stick looked on in awe. The injuries Nathan had suffered should have killed him. And yet, he breathed steadily—heart rate normal, posture unshaken.
"How is he still... alive?" Daredevil whispered, blood on his lips.
Nathan didn't pause.
He threw his shield again—three more enemies fell.
He captured one ninja alive, disarming him and slamming the hilt of his blade into the back of the man's neck. The moment the ninja tried to bite his own tongue to suicide, Nathan jabbed a neurotoxin patch onto his skin, knocking him out cold.
Then he ran.
Daredevil was nearly down, Stick barely standing.
Nathan blasted the remaining enemies with pinpoint shots and cleared the path.
"You saved us," Daredevil breathed.
Nathan waved him off. "I didn't save you for free."
He held up the red wooden box. "What is this?"
Stick extended his hands. "May I?"
Nathan handed it over.
Stick opened the box carefully.
Inside lay a single bone. A glowing, ancient fragment.
Nathan stared. "A bone?"
Stick nodded solemnly. "This is a mysterious dragon bone. The Hand uses them in forbidden rituals."
"What kind of dragon?"
"We don't know. But they claim the bone holds the power to extend life indefinitely."
Nathan's fingers twitched. So that was the secret. The Hand had found immortality through ancient dragon remains.
No wonder they'd sent half their army to retrieve it.
"And the child?" Nathan asked.
Stick handed the box back and looked grim. "She's not a child. She's a vessel."
Nathan blinked. "A vessel?"
"Yes. Her name is Black Void. She's a girl, though she looks like a young monk. She is meant to house the demon the Hand worships... a being known as the Beast."
"The Beast," Nathan echoed. "Sounds biblical."
"It's ancient. Beyond religion. The Beast possesses humans, empowers them, and feeds on sacrifices. Black Void is its chosen host. She's meant to become the leader of the Hand."
Nathan was quiet. "I thought she was a boy."
"So did many. But look closer—her form, her expression. The truth is in the details."
Nathan recalled the cold eyes. She had stared at him for too long.
"Why was she watching me?" he asked.
Stick shook his head. "Maybe the Beast sensed something in you."
Nathan narrowed his gaze. "If I want to kill the Beast... how?"
Stick coughed again. "You can't. Not directly. The Beast is immortal. But destroy the vessel... and the Beast vanishes—for a time."
Nathan considered that.
"No such thing as impossible," he muttered. "If it lives... it can die."
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