"You… you damn doll! Let go of me!"
Dragged all the way out of the classroom by Ayanami Rei, Asuka Langley Shikinami was now absolutely furious. Once they reached the schoolyard and rejoined the other students, she finally broke free from Rei's grip and shouted at her.
"The way you were acting just now—there's no way you could've helped Kitazawa Ryota," Rei replied calmly, shaking her head. "And Kitazawa Ryota doesn't need that kind of help. All you would've done is hold him back."
"Hold him back? You think I would hold him back? I'm Captain Shikinami, remember?!" Asuka exploded with rage, Rei's words stinging more than she wanted to admit.
Rei cast her a glance, then turned without a word and began walking calmly toward the school gates.
"Hey! Doll! Where the hell are you going?!"
There was nothing more infuriating than being ignored, and Rei's total indifference only made Asuka grind her teeth harder.
"To NERV Headquarters," Rei replied without stopping or turning her head.
"You—! Do you have no heart?! Kitazawa Ryota is still in there, and you're just going to run back to NERV?!" Asuka shouted after her, cheeks puffed up in frustration.
"If I don't go, how can we get help?" Rei said flatly. "Haven't you noticed? There's no signal. Our phones are jammed. If we don't get reinforcements from NERV now, it might be too late—and Kitazawa Ryota's life will truly be in danger. Do you understand?"
"Y-Yeah, of course I knew that! Who needs you to tell me!"
Asuka froze for a second, realizing the truth in Rei's words. Then, seeing Rei moving farther away, she gritted her teeth.
"Wait—wait up! I'm coming with you!"
She shouted after Rei and quickly ran to catch up.
---
The entire campus of First Municipal Junior High was now crawling with Black Dragon Gang members. The staff and students had all been herded onto the school grounds, the scene looking eerily like something out of a hostage crisis movie from Ryota's previous life.
But this wasn't his former Earth, and the Black Dragon Gang weren't terrorists. They had only one goal: kill Kitazawa Ryota.
Yes—his death was all they were after. Nothing else mattered.
Now, over three hundred gang members swarmed the school, weapons in hand. Inside one of the parked vehicles, Hattori Narumi and Kishimoto Ishiki sat with satisfied smiles.
If Kitazawa Ryota didn't die today, it would be nothing short of a miracle.
Back inside the classroom, Takei Munoi finally drew his blade.
His sword gleamed coldly, a faint icy shimmer playing across its edge. It looked like a killing blade born from darkness, exuding a chill that crept into the bones.
Takei smiled as he stared at Kitazawa Ryota—a smile that made onlookers shudder.
"Today's the day you die. But when you return to hell, tell everyone it wasn't me, Takei Munoi, who killed you. Blame the ones who wronged you—go seek revenge on your enemies, not me."
He ran his tongue across his lips, which only made them appear even bloodier.
"You talk too much," Ryota replied coolly, his tone flat and unshaken.
"Hah! I like you, kid. You've got guts. I respect that." Takei nodded approvingly.
"Don't worry, Kitazawa Ryota—I'll make it quick. You won't feel a thing."
He tightened his grip on the sword, raised it high, and slashed down with astonishing speed.
It was fast—too fast. Like a blur, like a mirage.
In his hands, the blade didn't even look like a weapon—it looked like art. Like a flash of lightning drawn from shadow.
The slash came straight down at Ryota's head.
But Ryota was just as fast.
Because of his speed, he narrowly avoided the strike. His body twisted and leapt back in a blink. Takei's blade whistled past him, missing by mere inches.
Still, the wind from the blade sliced clean through the hem of Ryota's uniform—a clean, deep cut.
Rip!
The sound of fabric tearing echoed in the room.
Cheers erupted from the Black Dragon members. Takei's swordsmanship was legendary—and it showed.
But Ryota's gaze remained calm and piercing as he stared at his grinning opponent.
Hokushin Ittō-ryū?
In this world, that ancient sword style had long vanished—but the blade in Takei's hand clearly displayed the deadly elegance of the Hokushin Ittō-ryū school.
So this was the Black Dragon Gang's top enforcer… no wonder.
"You're a master of Hokushin Ittō-ryū. I underestimated you," Ryota said.
"Oh? You recognize the style?" Takei raised an eyebrow. "Excellent. Then I'll give you the honor of seeing it at full power. I'll show you what true swordsmanship looks like."
He laughed maniacally, eyes glowing with killing intent.
Then—he attacked again.
The blade moved like mist, like lightning, like a dream. It danced through the air with terrifying grace.
It was fast. It was lethal.
Hundreds had already died by that blade.
Takei had built his reputation on it. He'd never lost a fight, and his skills had earned him the fearsome title of the Black Dragon's Golden Executioner.
But what he didn't know was this:
Kitazawa Ryota wasn't just skilled—he was a monster.
Far beyond what Takei could imagine.
In the next instant, Ryota moved.
And when he moved, it was like a storm breaking from stillness.
His speed was faster than Takei's blade—cleaner, sharper, smoother.
He vanished from sight.
To the onlookers, it was like the world blurred—one moment he was there, the next, he wasn't.
This wasn't something a normal human could achieve. This was something honed in the War God Training Dimension—a place far more terrifying than any sword, where a single misstep meant annihilation.
To Ryota, this… was nothing.
In a flash, he appeared right in front of Takei.
One foot away.
And then—
Boom!
A single punch. A blinding strike.
With speed faster than sound, Ryota's fist smashed directly into Takei's throat.
The force behind it was monstrous.
"AAAGHH!!"
A scream of agony rang out as Takei's face turned ashen. His body collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
Thud.
He crashed to the ground—motionless. Done.
A closer look revealed the truth: his throat had been crushed. His voice box shattered, and his life extinguished.
Takei Munoi was dead.
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