With hair white as snow and eyes—one gold, one a dull, stormy grey—the boy pulled himself from the wreckage of the shattered table with eerie grace. Not a single scratch marked his skin. His clothes were pristine. Not even dust clung to him.
Victor remained still, muscles coiled beneath his blazer as the child rose. Their gazes locked across the short distance—one burning with quiet fury, the other with something unreadable.
Yuzuki's hand subtly shifted, thumb tapping rapidly against the edge of his phone. A glimmer of light reflected on his lenses as he glanced toward the corner of the room, eyes narrowing for just a breath. Kiana didn't notice. Her focus was solely on Mei, who trembled in her arms, still shaken from the earlier attack.
Victor stepped forward, cracking his knuckles with a slow, deliberate flex of his hands. His stance was lazy, almost bored—but those who knew him understood it was the eye of the storm.
Cocolia smiled with the patience of a spider.
"Why thank you, Etoile," she crooned, fingers running gently through the boy's hair as he passed her. "Such an obedient child. My life's pride. He's never failed me—not once."
Victor didn't respond.
He just tilted his head, one brow raised. "Looks like it's past your bedtime."
No smile. No smirk.
Just steel.
"Etoile," Cocolia said simply.
The child moved.
He exploded from his position in a blur of silver light, blades drawn in each hand like wings of mirrored death. Twin arcs carved through the air—diagonal slashes meant to bifurcate the man before him.
Victor didn't blink.
He stepped in—not back—and brought both forearms up, bracing himself. The blades struck nothing but air as Victor slammed his arms against Etoile's wrists. Victor twisted his body with the impact, redirecting the force and spinning low to sweep Etoile's legs.
The boy flipped midair, using Victor's own deflection as momentum to spiral over him. The moment his feet touched the ground, he launched another strike—straight, precise, aimed for the heart.
Victor shifted.
The strike narrowly missed, grazing his uniform and slicing a clean tear down the right sleeve of his blazer. The fabric fluttered to the floor.
Victor responded with a knee.
Etoile blocked, but the impact sent him skidding back.
Victor gave him no time to recover. He surged forward, palm strikes aimed for pressure points—each one designed to disarm, not kill. Etoile matched him, blades flashing like lightning in a storm.
The room blurred into motion, every clash a note in a deadly song. Victor's style was clinical, brutal, efficient. He flowed like water around Etoile's speed, using the boy's own momentum against him.
A blade caught him—cutting across his chest, not deep, but enough to make the cloth dampen with blood.
Victor didn't flinch.
Instead, he reached into the cut, grabbed the blade itself with his now-bared hand, and twisted.
A sickening crack echoed as he wrenched the dagger from Etoile's grip, spinning around with the weapon now in his own.
Etoile stumbled—first time off balance.
Cocolia's eyes glittered.
Victor's glare met hers across the room, the boy still and panting before him.
She laughed softly, fingers brushing her cheek.
"Oh my," she said with delight.
The next second, glass shattered.
A storm of glinting shards exploded inward from the topmost window of the Raiden CEO office. The robot burst through like a meteor, slamming its fist down toward Victor before he could fully process the sound. He barely dove out of the way as the floor crumpled beneath the impact.
Etoile didn't waste the opening.
With blinding speed, the child lunged again, his remaining dagger flashing as he moved in tandem with the mech.
Victor twisted—caught the blade with the flat of his palm—and backflipped, narrowly avoiding the mechanized fist that came crashing after him.
"Wonderful," he muttered, rolling to his feet as the floor groaned under the weight of the mechanical beast.
The machine was a towering sentinel of war—sleek yet brutal, sculpted from high-density alloys that shimmered in shades of ivory, orange, and industrial black. Its limbs were elongated, built for speed and precision, each finger tipped with crushing claws that could rend through steel like paper. A thick, segmented tail of armored links curled behind it like a blade whip, its serrated edge humming with stored kinetic energy.
Its helmeted head bore a single, glowing orange visor—a slit of pure malice that scanned the battlefield with surgical focus. A mounted drill sat embedded in its right arm, revving low like a beast growling before the pounce. Its left arm was larger, clawed, like a vice meant to crush bones into ash. On its back, turbines hissed with quiet fury, releasing steam in intervals that mimicked breathing.
Now it was two against one.
The robot advanced first, swiping with its enormous clawed hand. Victor ducked, parried, only to be caught off guard by Etoile swinging low from the other side. He spun, deflected again—his wrists already bruised from earlier—and delivered a sharp jab into the boy's ribs that barely made him flinch.
Steel fingers grazed Victor's shoulder. A split-second longer, and it would've crushed his clavicle.
His breath hitched.
Then—
"Did someone call for backup?!" came a voice, high and wild.
The door to the office slammed open.
And there was Kiana, hair wind-tossed, eyes blazing with reckless glee—and in her hands, a bat. Aluminum. Slightly bent.
She spun it once.
"Stole this from a locker on our way out of school earlier," she grinned. "Hope this counts as self-defense!"
She swung. The bat collided with the robot's leg. A clang echoed through the room as the impact reverberated up its frame. The mech stumbled—but retaliated with a backhanded swipe that she slid under, boots skidding across the smooth floor.
Victor used the distraction.
He caught Etoile's wrist mid-strike, twisted, and flung the boy into the mech's path just as Kiana came around again. The bat cracked against Etoile's ribs, sending him careening across the room in a blur of grey and white.
"Now that's what I call teamwork!"
Kiana cheered.
Victor exhaled sharply. "You're outnumbered."
"Oh?" Cocolia purred from her perch. "Are we?"
The sound of shifting metal made him freeze.
All eyes turned.
Yuzuki.
Standing near the exit.
Holding Mei tightly by the arm, a knife to her side.
"Stop," Yuzuki said softly. "That's enough."
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-Hundredmask-chan