I crossed my spear hands, my muscles tensing as I prepared to strike. Piercing Hand Technique #6, Permeated Cross. With a sharp inhale, I dashed forward, the ground cracking beneath my feet from the force of my acceleration. Endo's eyes widened—a flicker of surprise in his usually impassive gaze. He reacted swiftly, raising his palm to intercept my strike, but he miscalculated. He had aimed for where he thought I would be, yet I had already shifted my trajectory ever so slightly.

  A split-second later, my twin spear hands carved through the air, slicing his chest in two diagonal lines. The impact sent a gust of wind spiraling outward, rustling the dirt and debris beneath us. His clothing split apart where my attack landed, revealing crimson lines welling up with blood. I expected the wounds to end the fight right then, to see him crumble under the force of my technique—but he barely faltered. His body was like tempered, his durability far greater than I had anticipated.

  A transcendent is different.

  His hand lashed out, a palm strike slamming into my left cheek with jarring force. A sharp sting flared across my face as my balance wavered, my vision shaking from the blow. The sheer power behind it wasn’t normal. He had absorbed a portion of the wind force generated by my attack, redirecting it into his counter.

  A crushing kick struck the back of my Achilles heel, and my legs buckled instantly. Above me, Endo loomed, his right fist raised high, knuckles gleaming. He brought it down like a hammer, aiming to drive his strength into my jaw.

  Gritting my teeth, I reached down, fingers clawing through the damp earth. In a desperate move, I scooped up a handful of mud and flung it toward his face. His descending fist halted abruptly as he reflexively flinched, his focus momentarily broken. That was all the opening I needed.

  I lunged forward, spear hand striking for a quick, decisive stab. Endo recovered swiftly, snapping his right palm up to meet my attack. The moment my fingers touched his skin, he began. He shifted his weight, and in one fluid motion, balled his fist before swinging a brutal overhand strike directly into my shoulder.

  The impact sent a shockwave through my bones, driving me deeper into the dirt. I twisted my body and drove a solid punch into his midsection. A dull, meaty thud resounded, and he skidded backward, his feet dragging along the ground as he absorbed the blow.

  Seizing the opportunity, I leapt up, my body tensing in preparation for another strike. I primed my right arm, bringing it up to my cheek in a poised stance. Endo, now wary, raised his guard in anticipation. I saw his forearms shift ever so slightly, the muscles tensing—ready to block whatever came next.

  He wasn't fast enough.

  I slashed across his forearms with a clean, fluid motion, my fingertips cutting deep. Blood splattered in sharp arcs, dripping from the fresh wounds.

  Endo frowned, his expression darkening as he brought up his right fist and slammed it into his open palm—once, twice, three times. His movements weren’t just for show; his speed when executing that motion was far greater than anything he had displayed before. This wasn’t random. This was a ritual, a movement ingrained into his body through years of repetition. A technique refined through endless practice.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  I started to lift my leg for a kick, instinct driving me to strike first—but I hesitated. A single misstep here, and I’d leave myself completely exposed. No, attacking recklessly wasn’t the answer. I needed to do something unpredictable.

  A gamble.

  A slow breath left my lips as I made my decision. Lowering my arms to my sides, I took a step forward. Then another. My posture relaxed, my guard completely dropped. I walked toward him with an almost casual stride, my body wide open to attack.

  Endo’s brow twitched before a smirk crept across his face. Then, he barked out a laugh.

  “Oh, is this a trap?! Your guard being down is a trap?!” His voice dripped with amusement, disbelief flashing in his eyes.

  I said nothing.

  His smirk widened.

  "Well, I ain't gonna pass up a free hit, dumbass!"

  I slackened my jaw, letting the force of the punch flow through me rather than resist it. My body arced backward, flipping high into the air—higher than I should have been able to go. Fifty feet. Maybe more.

  From below, my army watched in stunned silence. Despair settled in their expressions as they assumed I had already lost. Their leader, struck down in a single blow.

  But amidst the sea of worried faces, one stood out—Emma. She masked her expression well, but I caught it. A smile, barely hidden beneath her exterior. She knows.

  Gravity took hold, and I descended swiftly, landing in the middle of my ranks. My feet hit the dirt with force, cracking the ground beneath me in a small crater. A dull ache lingered in my jaw, but I ignored it. Rolling my neck, I checked myself over. Nothing broken. Nothing I couldn’t endure.

  Endo stood across the battlefield, staring down at his fist. Steam curled from his knuckles, his brow furrowing in confusion.

  “You did something.” he muttered. His fingers flexed, testing for sensation. “It didn’t hurt. It didn’t even affect me... it only....”

  I finished for him. “It only saved me from death, yes.”

  His eyes snapped to mine as I stepped forward, rejoining the front of my army. The weight of my presence steadied them.

  “Endo,” I continued, my voice firm, “you are slightly stronger and faster than me. Do you want to know why that is?”

  He scoffed, crossing his arms. “Because I’m better than you?”

  I shook my head. “No. It’s because you’re older.” I let the words settle before elaborating. “Men reach their physical peak at twenty-three. I am twenty. You, however, are in your mid-twenties, I assume? You're not young like me. That means you’re already at your peak. And because we are transcended, that gap is even wider.”

  His expression remained unreadable, but I could see the gears turning in his head.

  “I won’t grow stronger overnight like I did before.” I admitted. “I will grow slowly over the next three years. I can’t rely on raw hardware alone. To compensate, I need technique. A basic understanding of Aikido’s defensive principles should help me increase my endurance, no?”

  A small smirk tugged at the corner of Endo’s mouth. He liked where this was going.

  “Still,” I added, rolling my shoulder, “your punches are powerful. I don’t think I can take many more of those.”

  His smirk widened into a grin. “Thanks for the explanation,” he said, cracking his knuckles. “that just means I need to hit you a few more times.”

  In less than a thirtieth of a second, I had already closed the one hundred foot distance. My fist drove into his face with explosive force.

  “That’s the thing.” I murmured.

  Endo’s body rocketed backward, smashing into the castle wall with a thunderous impact, debris crumbling around him.

  “You won’t.”