Harold grinned, wiping a smear of blood from his jaw as he stepped toward the teenager. "You again? I'm genuinely surprised you can even stand after taking my Four Hundred and Forty-Four Strikes execution."
Hayato, struggling to keep his eyes open through the haze of pain, stared at Ethan's rigid back.
This posture... these eyes... Hayato thought, his pulse hammering. This isn't him... This isn't the Ethan I know.
Without a word, Harold lunged forward, launching a heavy right cross aimed straight for Ethan's skull. Ethan didn't move until the fist was inches from his face—then slipped sideways in a blur, driving a crushing left hook squarely into Harold's cheek.
BOOM!
The force sent Harold hurtling sideways, crashing through drywall and embedding him into the concrete foundation.
Before the dust could settle, the bio-mutant roared, sweeping its massive, calcified bone-blade in a horizontal arc aimed to bisect Ethan at the waist. Ethan dipped beneath the blade with terrifying ease as the weapon sheared clean through heavy steel support beams and laboratory consoles.
As Ethan resurfaced, the creature's tentacle arm whipped forward, clamping tight around Ethan's ankle.
Ethan didn't flinch. Locking his fingers into the writhing, muscular tissue of the tentacle, he anchored his footing, hoisted the multiton monstrosity off the ground, and slammed it repeatedly against the walls and metallic machinery like a ragdoll.
With a final, devastating surge of momentum, Ethan hurled the beast face-first into the metal floor grates, shattering the steel plates beneath it.
The mutant scrambled up, howling in rage. But Ethan was already moving. He scooped up Hayato's fallen bone-sword from the rubble and swung it in a single, silent silver crescent—cleaving the bio-engineered nightmare cleanly in two.
Eliza watched from the corner, her breath catching in her throat.
Harold burst from the shattered wall, sprinting from Ethan's blind spot to hurl his entire body weight into a killing strike. Without even turning his head, Ethan leaped into the air, spinning mid-flight to deliver a brutal back-kick flush into Harold's face.
Harold stumbled backward, his vision swimming as his heels dug into the metal floor.
This isn't the same brat I was fighting five minutes ago... Harold realized, his chest heaving.
Ethan closed the distance in an instant. Planting his foot onto Harold's thigh, he used the leverage to launch a savage right fist straight into Harold's face, driving the momentum downward to slam Harold's head against the floor.
Before Harold could recover, Ethan drove a heavy right knee straight toward his skull. Harold jerked his head aside at the absolute last microsecond, the knee pulverizing the floor where his face had been a fraction of a second prior.
Harold scrambled backward, forcing himself to his feet as blood leaked from his nose and lips.
His strikes... they're completely different. Heavier... faster... Harold thought, casting a panicked glance back at Eliza. What did she inject into him?!
Ethan launched forward again, his right fist chambered and moving in a straight trajectory for Harold's jaw.
Harold's eyes narrowed into a cold smirk. "You shouldn't attack so predictably!"
Harold slipped to the right to dodge the incoming punch—but Ethan altered his momentum in mid-air, driving his trailing knee directly into the side of Harold's face!
CRACK!
Harold's vision flashed dead black for a split second as his head snapped back.
His attack got stronger... like he has no limit. Just like that man... Harold's mind reeled as blood poured from his nose. A sudden, terrifying memory surged to the forefront of his mind—a silhouette of a man in a black leather jacket.
Ethan raised his right fist once more, stepping in to deliver a finishing blow.
A primal sense of dread flooded Harold's instincts. If that punch connects... I die.
Harold threw himself sideways. Ethan's fist detonated against the floor, shattering the reinforced steel grates and creating a crater.
Unbelievable... this floor is reinforced steel, and he pulverized it with raw power?!
There was no time to think. Ethan was already on him.
Harold clenched his fists, setting his stance. He watched Ethan's right shoulder drop and calculated the trajectory.
He's going for my face again. The second his fist enters my guard, I'll counter with my Bone-Shattering Punch directly into his ribs.
Ethan drove his right fist forward—but at the absolute last microsecond, he canceled the strike, driving a lightning-fast kick directly into Harold's abdomen!
Harold gasped as the air was violently expelled from his lungs. Ethan took to the air, unleashing a rapid, fluid barrage of aerial kicks that bypassed Harold's guard completely.
Harold's mind fractured as the phantom memory returned in full force.
He was lying broken in a pool of his own blood on a snow-covered battlefield years ago, every bone in his limbs and spine shattered beyond repair, unable to move anything except his eyes. Walking away from him was a white-haired teenager, not even bothering to look back.
Rage, embarrassment, and traumatic fury erupted in Harold's chest.
"I swore I would kill that bastard!" Harold screamed, his muscles expanding as he unleashed his lethal signature art. "BEAR CLAWS!"
Harold dropped his posture, adopting the wide, ferocious stance of a predatory bear as his fingers stiffened into lethal iron talons.
Oh... Harold is using his claws, Eliza thought, her eyes widening.
In that state, his speed and attack power double—he can shred a normal mutant to pieces in seconds!
Eliza looked at Hayato and moved toward the nearby medical cabinet, pulling out the secondary antidote vial. She reached out toward Hayato, but he, barely conscious held out his hand. Eliza dropped the syringe into his palm.
Hayato jammed the auto-injector straight into his own forearm. Within seconds, the natural color began returning to his pale skin as the chemical neutralizer took effect.
In the center of the hall, Harold's claws tore through the air, leaving a deep, bloody gash along Ethan's forearm.
Harold roared like a wild beast. "How are you using that bastard's moves?! You know him, don't you?! Tell me where he is so I can tear his throat out!"
Ethan moved. He stepped straight into the strike, delivering a short-range jab to Harold's jaw that broke his balance. Following through instantly, Ethan threw a heavy right hook directly into Harold's incoming claw strike.
CRACK-SNAP!
The collision broke Harold's fingers—and fractured Ethan's own knuckles in the process.
Yet Ethan didn't even flinch. Exhibiting a total absence of pain, he leaped into the air, launching a blinding, non-stop barrage of flying knees from every angle.
To Harold, the world vanished. Knees were raining down from all directions at impossible speeds—a relentless hurricane of impact.
It's... it's his exact move... Harold thought faintly as his vision faded to absolute white, his consciousness completely slipping away as his body gave out.
Even as Harold collapsed into an unconscious heap, Ethan landed heavily on the shattered floor, his own knee joints cracking under the sheer mechanical strain of the sequence.
Eliza stared in stunned silence.
Hayato pushed himself up, resting his back against the concrete wall as the cure circulated through his veins. "Those are... moves. But damn, are they efficient."
Eliza nodded slowly, her hands trembling. "I've been analyzing his body mechanics since the fight started... He's executing movement patterns that should be biologically impossible for a normal human body to perform."