Hayato's eyes remained glued to Ethan, utter disbelief written across his face. "How... how the hell is he doing all this?"
"It's his mind," Eliza replied, her voice eerily calm as she adjusted her posture against the steel cabinet.
Hayato shot her a sharp look. "What did you inject into him, Eliza?"
"I introduced a neuro-synthetic compound designed to amplify psychological trauma into a physical catalyst," Eliza explained coldly. "It was meant to trigger an internal mental collapse."
Hayato absorbed the words, watching Ethan ruthlessly hurl a newly arrived Loop executive squad across the concrete floor like paper dolls.
"So... the Ethan standing in front of us right now is living through amplified trauma," Hayato observed softly.
Eliza nodded. "I assumed the sheer weight of his suppressed memories would drive him mad—that he would scream or break down completely. But his mind took an unprecedented turn to protect itself. To escape the agony, his conscious mind and emotions went entirely dormant. Right now, he isn't thinking, feeling, or suffering. His body is operating on pure survival instinct, neutralizing everyone in sight so his mind doesn't have to confront the pain."
She turned her gaze back toward Hayato. "In a way... it's just like you. You mask your darkness behind jokes and a smile. Ethan simply buried his consciousness entirely and focused on just fighting."
Hayato offered a silent, single nod, his expression darkening as he watched the carnage unfold.
"Okay, so his mind checked out to cope with the trauma," Hayato said, analyzing the mechanics. "That explains why he isn't stopping... but it doesn't explain how he's fighting."
Eliza narrowed her eyes. "He is unconsciously tapping into the deep-seated muscle memory of someone extraordinarily powerful—someone he's encountered in the past—and forcing his biological limits to replicate those techniques."
"Has Ethan ever met anyone that strong?" Hayato muttered.
"Who knows." Eliza murmured.
"How do we pull him out of it before he kills everyone?" Hayato asked.
"The state is finite. His body will force him back to normal once his energy reserves deplete," Eliza stated.
Before Hayato could reply, Ethan spun around, his eyes locking directly onto Hayato and Eliza.
Hayato slowly pulled himself up to his feet, wincing as his wounds pulled. "Guess it's our turn to play punching bag..."
Ethan took a explosive step forward—then froze mid-stride.
Hayato and Eliza exchanged a swift, tense glance. A split second later, the temperature in the subterranean laboratory plummeted.
A suffocating wave of pure, unfiltered murder intent washed over the room, so heavy it made the air feel thick as lead.
"Someone strong just walked in..." Hayato said, shifting his weight.
Eliza turned toward the main elevator doors.
Standing in the frame was a composed man wrapped in an immaculate dark trench coat, his eyes scanning the carnage with supreme indifference.
Number 0.
"You're still breathing, Hayato?" Number 0 remarked smoothly, his voice devoid of any emotion.
Hayato's eyes narrowed into slits. "You..."
Before another word could be uttered, Ethan blurred across the floor, launching himself straight at Number 0 with terrifying velocity.
"Ah, the test subject," Number 0 noted coolly.
Both men threw a straight right simultaneously, their fists shattering the air as they moved to each other's faces!
BOOM!
Number 0's head snapped back, but Ethan had already used his free arm to parry Number 0's punch . After grabbing Number 0's fist, Ethan yanked the executive forward, driving a devastating punch into his cheek, immediately following up with a flying knee flush to Number 0's chin!
Without letting Number 0 breathe, Ethan pivoted in mid-air and drove his elbow directly down onto the top of Number 0's skull, slamming him headfirst into the reinforced floor grates. Following through, Ethan planted a brutal front kick into Number 0's sternum, sending him sliding twenty feet across the room into the far wall.
Eliza thought. Number 0... is getting pushed back...!
Before Number 0 could regain his footing, Ethan airborne-leaped, bringing his heel down like a guillotine toward Number 0's head. Number 0 rolled aside just in time, but Ethan spun with the momentum, delivering a whip-like sidekick straight into Number 0's throat!
Number 0 coughed a spray of blood. Ethan clamped his hands around Number 0's head, driving it down repeatedly into his knees before executing a flawless front-flip kick that slammed Number 0 back into the floor.
Number 0 backflipped out of the crater, creating distance as a wide, chilling grin spread across his face.
He lunged back in, firing a lightning-fast combination of strikes. Ethan slipped the blows by millimeters, countering with sharp, short-range hooks. Number 0 ducked, throwing a high kick; Ethan leaned back, returning a spinning back-kick directly toward Number 0's ribs. Number 0 checked the kick with his knee, the collision vibrating through the room.
"Sensational," Number 0 chuckled, his eyes glowing with sadistic delight. "You are truly the strongest fighter I've encountered... after Hideki."
For a fraction of a second, a memory flashed in Number 0's mind—the shadow of a man standing in the moonlight, a katana held in one hand, its dark sheath in the other.
Number 0 unleashed a blinding point-blank frenzy of punches. Ethan ducked and slipped through the barrage with micro-adjustments, returning a brutal four-hit combo. Number 0 blocked and parried the strikes with precision, the speed of their exchange turning their limbs into a blur.
"He's... actually going toe-to-toe with Ethan in this state," Hayato muttered, watching the high-speed clash.
Eliza nodded gravely. "Ethan's body doesn't have much time left."
Hayato looked over at her. "What do you mean?"
"When Ethan forcibly replicated those high-level techniques against Harold earlier, he damaged his own body more than others could," Eliza explained. "His body is running on pure adrenaline and neuro-stimulants. It's in the middle of deteriorating."
"That explains why his speed is starting to drop," Hayato noted, seeing Ethan's footwork grow subtly heavy.
"Number 0 is in an entirely different realm than Harold," Eliza added, her voice dead serious. "He is the absolute apex of the Loop Syndicate. Harold is a child compared to him."
She paused, watching the teenager force Number 0 onto the defensive once again. "Though... it seems even Number 0 has finally met someone he wasn't prepared for."
"We need to stop Ethan before his own body breaks apart," Hayato decided, stepping forward.
Eliza nodded, reaching into her medical bag to retrieve three long, black-capped nerve-agent syringes.
In the center of the hall, Ethan delivered a heavy push-kick to Number 0's chest, forcing the executive back a few feet.
Capitalizing on the opening, Hayato lunged from Number 0's blind spot, driving a heavy right hook into the back of Number 0's neck to force his head to the floor. But Number 0 tilted his skull at the last microsecond, avoiding the brunt of the strike. Wrapping his legs around Hayato's neck in a fluid motion, Number 0 inverted his body, slamming Hayato headfirst into the concrete as he rolled back to his feet.
"Still... just a child," Number 0 sneered.
Ethan charged from behind to strike Number 0 down—but three dark syringes whistled through the air, embedding deeply into the nerve clusters along Ethan's spine.
The neuro-blocker took effect instantly. Ethan's eyes closed, his muscles giving out as he collapsed limp onto the floor, completely unconscious.
Before Hayato could push himself up, Number 0's hand clamped like a vise around Hayato's throat, pinning him flat against the blood-stained floor grates.
Number 0 looked down at him with a cold, triumphant sneer. "You never stood a chance, Hayato. Not even at your absolute best."
STEP.
A crisp, measured footstep echoed through the ruined doorway.
The sound was subtle, yet it instantly cut through the tension in the room.
Standing in the doorway was a mysterious figure clad in a sleek dark overcoat. A black tactical mask concealed his entire face, leaving only a pair of sharp, calm eyes visible.
And on his feet... were white shoes.