Kenshi leapt back, weaving signs in the air. His fingers moved at an incredible speed, and within seconds, his legs ignited with dark flames.
[Skill Activated: Yami no Kiri – Mist of Darkness]
He landed… but not a single sound followed. Not even the wind. Not even a breath. He moved in complete silence.
"He vanished…" Elian whispered, scanning the space.
"Go!" Arden commanded, bursting forward in a flash of pale blue energy.
His strike was lightning-fast—but Kenshi dodged. Even with stealth, Arden's sharp fingers grazed the skin near his temple. Kenshi flinched back, a thin line of blood appearing on his brow.
He darted toward the sword at Akito's feet. The blade was already aiming for Akito's throat—but Akito caught his wrist mid-strike.
A tense silence fell between them.
"That's enough, Kenshi. The fight is over," Akito said firmly, not letting go.
"…Fine," the samurai calmly sheathed his sword. "I'll teach you. Though your swordplay sucks."
Akito flinched internally. Even now, he could feel it—Kenshi would've killed without hesitation.
"If you hadn't stopped the fight…" Targus muttered. "I would've crushed that insect."
"Then let's start the lesson," Kenshi said, drawing his blade again.
Steel clashed. A whirlwind of strikes filled the air with sparks. Akito blocked, stumbled, attacked again. Slowly, his blade began to move as an extension of his will. Kenshi, despite his cold demeanor, watched every movement with care.
"That… Zalgrom," he said mid-duel. "He defeated all of you?"
"Yeah," Akito replied, deflecting. "We couldn't even scratch him."
"Hm. Rank A… maybe even S." Kenshi's katana clicked away from Akito's blade. "Next time… we go first. He won't touch the city."
"And if there's more like him?"
"They'd have attacked already. He's alone. For now."
Spin. Upward slash. Kenshi's katana slipped through Akito's guard and halted at his neck.
"Lesson's over," he said, locking eyes.
Sometime later, they returned to the apartment. Tokyo's night sparkled beyond the window—calm and quiet. But not for long.
"I'm hitting the shower… then sleep," Akito said, pulling off his shirt.
"Show me how that thing works," Kenshi asked.
"Yeah. Later."
The next morning, as soon as Akito woke up, the doorbell rang.
He opened it—to find a broad-shouldered, tan man in dark sunglasses and a sharp suit.
"Good morning. Sent by Mr. Arimoto. Your ride is ready."
…They headed outside. Akito stepped out first—and was instantly drawn to the car waiting by the curb. It was an Arashi Tempest R1—a sleek black sedan with aggressive styling, carved as if from a single block of metal. The body lines radiated power, the headlights burned cold, and the lightning-shaped emblem gleamed on the hood. This model cost at least 21 million yen.
"What the hell…" Akito muttered.
Targus grinned as he spotted it.
"Matches my vibe. Hope the seats can handle me."
The driver opened the back door.
"Please, Mr. Kurosawa. The ride will take about 40 minutes. Agent Arimoto is waiting at the studio."
"Got it," Akito nodded and stepped in, followed by Targus, folding his knees carefully to avoid denting the ceiling.
As the doors shut, the Tempest R1 growled softly to life, rolling through Tokyo's morning light. The city shimmered in sunbeams—and with each turn, Akito felt it more: his life was changing. His next steps wouldn't be just on the battlefield… but on a new stage entirely.
He stayed silent, staring out the window at the city rushing by. Heavy thoughts circled his mind:
"I need to start saving. If our team keeps growing… this apartment won't be enough."
Then Targus spoke, voice low and steady:
"Jarl… Do you think we're weak?"
Akito turned to glance at him. The giant stared straight ahead, unblinking.
"Next time, don't interfere," Targus muttered. "I'll crush that cocky samurai myself."
"No, Targus. That's not what I was thinking," Akito answered quietly, eyes drifting back outside. "It's something else entirely…"
"About twenty minutes left," the driver announced from the front. "How's the ride treating you?"
"All good," Akito replied shortly.
Silence again.
Meanwhile, back at the apartment—Kenshi had taken over the kitchen.
He opened the fridge, pulled out every container, inspected every pot, then reached the top shelf.
"Oh? What's this?" he muttered, pulling out a bottle labeled "46%".
He popped the cap and took a cautious sniff. A sharp wave of alcohol hit his nose. Kenshi squinted, then smirked and gave an approving nod.
"Now that's more like it."
Twenty minutes later, Akito and Targus arrived at the destination—a sleek modern building with panoramic glass windows and the VIRIA logo above the door.
They were already being welcomed.
"Welcome, Akito-san, Targus-san," said a young woman in a light gray suit, bowing slightly. "I'm Mr. Arimoto's assistant."
Her eyes lit up the moment she looked at Targus.
"Um… would it be okay if I took a photo with you?" she asked shyly, cheeks pink. "My friend's a huge fan…"
Targus froze, clearly caught off guard. He blinked twice, then gave a reserved nod.
"…Sure."
Standing beside him, Akito dipped his head slightly, a quiet smile on his face.
He knew then: Targus's journey as a model had only just begun.
They stepped inside.
[Noxveil]
Hey there, reader!
If you've made it this far, thank you so much. I'm writing this story in Russian and translating it into English — so I'd love to hear your thoughts!
Even one small comment gives me huge motivation 💬💙
Let me know who your favorite character is so far!