Time stretched taut, like a string pulled to its limit.
The Anbu squad captain—a jonin—stood there in silence, like a mountain that had risen straight from hell. His very presence was enough to crush every shred of hope and every scheme within the space.
Fear?
No. The word didn't exist in Mizuki Han's dictionary.
His body sounded the alarm against his will. His muscles twitched faintly with tension, and even the flow of blood seemed to slow. But this wasn't fear. It was the most primitive survival response to overwhelming power. Under that pressure, his mind was working at an unprecedented pitch.
Run?
Impossible. His opponent had silently breached the Ice Thread Perimeter Net he'd carefully laid out, which meant he had an absolute advantage in both speed and perception. Any attempt to turn and flee would leave an opening—and invite a devastating strike.
Fight?
His chances of winning were vanishingly close to zero. He had only just raised his chakra to chunin level, while the man before him was a jonin who had spent years steeped in the art of killing, a true mainstay of the Mist Anbu. Every jonin had hundreds of shinobi's deaths on their hands. They were living encyclopedias of slaughter.
What should he do?
Every analysis, calculation, and deduction was complete within 0.01 seconds. Mizuki Han's gaze shifted from the jonin's sharp, hawk-like eyes to Haku beside him, who had gone rigid with terror, her face deathly pale.
A burden.
The cold, merciless word rose from the deepest part of his heart.
In a battle of this level, Haku wasn't an asset or a wild card. She was his only—and most fatal—liability. She could become a hostage. She could shackle his movements. In every tactical calculation, she was the most unstable "negative factor."
So before the battle began, he had to remove that "negative factor" from the board for good.
"Don't move."
Mizuki Han's voice was so low it was almost inaudible, yet Haku heard him clearly.
Haku shuddered and looked at him in confusion.
The next second, Mizuki Han moved.
Without the slightest warning, he didn't lunge at the enemy. He abruptly turned sideways and slammed his shoulder into Haku!
"Thud!"
The impact rang out dully.
Haku's small, slender body flew through the air like a worn-out rag doll. She let out a short cry as she arced toward the entrance to a narrow maintenance passage behind them, barely wide enough for one person.
Mizuki Han had used a clever angle, but he showed no mercy. Haku felt as if her insides had been wrenched out of place. The pain nearly knocked her unconscious. As she tumbled into the dark passage, the last thing she saw was Mizuki Han's utterly cold profile and eyes devoid of warmth or remorse.
He wasn't saving her.
He was just... tossing aside a piece of troublesome baggage.
"Stay hidden. If you come out, I'll kill you first."
Those cold words were the last thing she heard before she plunged into darkness.
Once he was done, Mizuki Han didn't even look back. He slowly straightened, and his presence shifted in a subtle way. If he'd been held back before by the need to account for a "burden," now he was a fully unsheathed blade, staking everything on a single gamble.
Alone, he calmly faced the despairing mountain known as a "jonin."
The Anbu squad captain hadn't moved once. He'd simply watched Mizuki Han "clean house" with interest, a trace of approval flickering in his eyes, as if admiring a promising young wolf showing its inborn ruthlessness.
"Interesting. You're harsher on your own people than your enemies. You've got a natural talent for this line of work." The jonin finally spoke, his voice hoarse, like two rocks grinding together. "Too bad you chose the wrong path."
Mizuki Han didn't reply.
He used those precious seconds to frantically marshal the chakra inside him.
Chunin-level reserves surged through his chakra pathways. Following the Three-Part Chakra Principle etched into his soul, he had to divide them with the utmost care.
Thirty percent would remain as an escape contingency, stored deep in his abdomen and ready for the worst. For instance, if he were gravely wounded, he could use Ice Release to seal the injury or create an escape route.
Forty percent would be reserved for a decisive strike, highly concentrated and ready to unleash. This was his core strength for seizing an opportunity and turning the tables with one blow.
The remaining thirty percent was available for him to use right now—the "standard arsenal" for probing and keeping his opponent at bay.
"You destroyed the Armory, killed Hozuki, and even planned to blow up the entire base." The jonin spoke calmly, as if listing trivial matters. "Lord Genji is displeased. He sent me to bury you and your plan here."
Mizuki Han's pupils narrowed slightly.
His opponent knew about his plan!
That meant his every move might have been monitored by someone higher up from the moment he entered the Armory. Captain Hozuki might have been nothing more than a pawn sent out to test his strength.
"Looks like one of us is dying today." Mizuki Han finally spoke, his voice just as cold. The Black Steel Short Blade slipped down in his hand. He reversed his grip, pointed the tip toward the ground, and assumed a standard assassination stance.
"You have no grounds to bargain with me." The jonin shook his head, a cruel, cat-playing-with-a-mouse smile on his face. "But I'll give you a chance. Show me everything you've got. If you can make me take even one step, I'll give you a quick death."
It was the ultimate display of contempt.
And the most blatant humiliation.
Mizuki Han's expression didn't change. Anger would only send blood rushing to his head and cloud his judgment. What he needed was absolute, ice-cold reason.
His gaze swept across the dry ground beneath the jonin's feet, the complex metal structures around them, and the moisture seeping from cracks in the rock walls.
He had too little information.
His opponent's affinities, preferred jutsu, and fighting style—everything was unknown.
In these circumstances, using the forty percent of chakra reserved for a decisive strike would be little more than a gamble with terrible odds.
He couldn't afford to gamble.
So he had to probe. He needed to trade the smallest possible cost for the most valuable information.
Mizuki Han's left hand quietly formed two hand seals.
Pig. Dog.
The opening seals for the most basic Water Clone Technique.
He took half of the thirty percent reserved for probing and mobilized it in an instant.
"Splash—"
A pool of water not far from his feet, collected earlier when he'd set the Explosive Tags, suddenly churned violently. A figure identical to Mizuki Han slowly rose from it.
His features, height, clothes, even the Black Steel Short Blade gripped in reverse—all matched perfectly.
A textbook Water Clone.
"Oh? Starting with a clone?" The jonin's mocking smile widened. "You think a childish trick like that will let you test my strength? So that's all a brat from the Yuki Clan is capable of."
Before the last word had even left his mouth—
Mizuki Han and his clone moved!
The clone didn't charge alone. He and the clone launched a simultaneous attack from two completely different directions!
The Water Clone charged straight at the jonin, direct and ferocious, its short blade carving a vicious arc toward his throat.
Meanwhile, Mizuki Han pushed off the ground and skimmed low across it like a gliding shadow. He raced around the complex metal structures, trying to reach the jonin's flank.
A feint?
No. It was a pincer attack!
The clone would draw the opponent's attention and force him to block or dodge, creating an opening. Then the original would deliver a deadly strike from his blind spot. It was one of the most classic and effective tactics in assassination.
Faced with the sudden, murderous attack from both sides, the Anbu squad captain's expression didn't change in the slightest.
He didn't even shift his feet.
He simply watched the ferocious Water Clone charging at him head-on, as if it were a foolish moth flying into a flame that would consume all things.
He slowly raised both hands and formed a hand seal—an ancient, peculiar sign Mizuki Han had never seen in any of his memories.
How would the jonin respond to Han's probing attack?
Before you continue