The Disciple reacted with astonishing speed. He slapped Captain America's hand aside, lowered his center of gravity, and kicked at his shin. The kick was fast and precise, as though he had practiced it hundreds of times.
Caught off guard by the sudden attack, Captain America did not panic. He had encountered this sort of situation far too many times.
He took a step back on the spot and used his advantage in height and reach to grab for the Disciple's collar, intending to restrain the child who had attacked him first.
In his eyes, the other party was merely a half-grown child and not worth taking too seriously. Yet the Disciple's response caught him off guard once more.
The short figure twisted his waist and flipped sideways, then planted one hand on the ground and sprang up again, both legs chopping down at Captain America like battle-axes.
Captain America was extremely familiar with this move. He used it often himself, except he had a shield in hand when he did so, allowing him to link follow-up moves whether blocking or striking. This half-grown child simply lacked a shield.
"Who exactly are you?" Captain America took another two steps back, and his tone was no longer as friendly as it had been at first.
"Defeat me, and I'll tell you." The Disciple's voice was slightly high-pitched, but there was nothing delicate about his movements. They were broad and forceful, every move aimed to kill.
Captain America raised his shield to block. After five exchanges, he saw through it. These were all his own habitual moves. The combat experience, techniques, and even certain subtle motions were nearly identical. "A copying ability? You're copying my abilities?"
The Disciple said nothing. He was concentrating on mastering this fighting style.
Watching from within the