CLICK! PING!
A grenade spun through the air, bouncing directly into Ghost's line of sight.
Mike's lips stretched into a thin smile.
BOOM!!
The grenade detonated.
A thunderous blast tore through the clearing, sending a shockwave racing between the trees. Nearby branches snapped, trunks shuddered, and flames erupted across the forest floor. The force swept through the undergrowth, scattering debris as a dense cloud of smoke and dust swallowed the entire area.
For a moment, the jungle disappeared behind fire and chaos.
Then, a silhouette emerged from the smoke.
Ghost.
His jacket burned fiercely, its fabric blackened by the blast, yet he walked forward without a single change in expression. He showed no visible sign of injury, as though the explosion had failed to accomplish anything beyond destroying his clothes.
His cold eyes swept across the clearing.
Mike was nowhere to be found.
Farther into the jungle, Mike stumbled between the trees, one arm pressed against his wounded torso. He could barely keep himself upright. The grenade's shockwave had caught him at close range, adding to the damage he'd already suffered from Ghost's slash.
Each breath came shallow and strained. His legs wavered beneath him, and a sharp ringing filled his ears, drowning out the sounds of the burning forest.
He managed a few more steps before grabbing a tree for support.
"Fuck... this is the second time I've lost to that bastard—"
A sudden cough cut him off. Mike doubled over, struggling to breathe as blood escaped his mouth. His body could no longer conceal the toll of the fight.
"Damn it..."
His vision blurred as he tried to push himself away from the tree, but his strength abandoned him.
THUD!
Mike collapsed onto the forest floor.
The metal club slipped from his hand and struck the ground beside him.
He lay still beneath the trees, breathing faintly as consciousness faded.
He had escaped Ghost.
But the explosion had pushed his already battered body past its limit.
As the chaos in the jungle gradually subsided and Mike disappeared into the depths of the forest, the scene shifted to Neiber Island, where the S.A.O. Institute stood beneath the quiet embrace of the night.
Everything seemed peaceful.
A gentle night breeze swept through the island, drifting between the buildings and rustling the surrounding trees. The cool air carried a sense of tranquillity, while the soft sounds of the night settled over the institute like a comforting blanket.
It was almost difficult to imagine what kind of place this truly was.
Behind those quiet corridors and seemingly ordinary classrooms lived some of the most dangerous hitmen from every corner of the world. Some wore the titles of teachers, others walked the halls as students, while many occupied positions that remained unknown to outsiders.
Yet, beneath the moonlit sky, none of that seemed to matter.
The institute appeared calm. The island felt safe.
But it was nothing more than an illusion.
For beneath that peaceful atmosphere lay a world built on bloodshed, deception, and the constant pursuit of strength—a world where even the quietest night could conceal something dangerous.
CRASH!
A window shattered outward as Hikaru was hurled through it, his body suspended in midair for a fleeting moment before gravity dragged him down.
For the first time in a long while, genuine terror crossed his face.
His breath came in ragged gasps. Pain surged through his body as he crashed onto the atrium floor, coughing violently. He tried to lift his head, but the world had already begun to spin. The floors, rooms, elevators, and staircases blurred together, their outlines fading as his vision steadily darkened.
His consciousness slipped away.
SPLASH!
Cold water struck his face.
Hikaru's eyes snapped open.
"Huff... huff... huff..."
He struggled to catch his breath, chest rising and falling rapidly. Water trickled down his cheeks as he blinked away the lingering haze.
Standing before him was an elderly woman, seemingly in her late fifties. Despite her age, her physique remained remarkably athletic, her posture straight and her movements carrying a youthful sharpness. Fine wrinkles traced her face, while her completely white hair was tied into a small ponytail. A pink shirt, black shorts, and red slippers completed her surprisingly casual appearance.
A thin smile played across her lips.
"You've lost your focus, Hikaru."
Damn it... That old hag still has that ridiculous strength.
The thought had barely formed when her voice interrupted him again.
"See? You're distracted already. At this rate, you'll never learn to fight properly."
Hikaru clenched his jaw and pushed himself off the floor. His legs trembled slightly, but he forced himself to stand upright, refusing to let his exhaustion show more than it already had.
"One more time," he demanded, his voice rough and breathless.
The woman shook her head.
"No. Go and rest for now."
Her tone was gentle, almost affectionate, yet the firmness beneath it left little room for argument.
This was Maya.
Hikaru's former teacher—an elderly woman whose unassuming appearance concealed a level of strength that continued to humble him even after all these years.