"Stop!"
Chabashira Sae, the only teacher present, couldn't ignore the situation any longer.
Seeing the reasoning about to escalate into violence, she furrowed her brows and called out.
But Ibuki Mio had no intention of stopping.
If she backed down now, Karuizawa Kei's underwear—hidden in Ike Kanji's bag—would be discovered, and with only her fingerprints on it, the blame would fall entirely on her.
At best, she'd be accused of theft and framing. At worst, she could be expelled.
That was not an option.
She had to eliminate the bastard in front of her, grab the evidence, and escape.
With that resolve, Ibuki launched a powerful kick—one that even Ryuen and Ishizaki would have avoided.
Albert, with his unnatural physique, might have been able to withstand it, but this guy…
Why isn't he even defending himself?!
Her foot landed squarely on Kure Ragna's shoulder and neck.
Boom!
The impact echoed through the forest. Yet, the power behind her kick vanished like a pebble sinking into the ocean.
He didn't even budge.
"Well, the technique's solid, and the accuracy's good"
Kure Ragna mused, cracking his neck.
"But the strength… a bit lacking."
A grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he casually pressed a hand against Ibuki's leg.
Then, with a light step backward, he hooked his fingers at her.
"Wanna go again?"
Ibuki's competitive instincts flared. Ignoring Chabashira's warnings, she retracted her leg and charged once more.
This time, her kick came from a different angle—sharper, faster, and stronger than before.
The air split with a sharp whistle as her leg cut through, leaving a faint afterimage.
"Amazing!"
Among the spectators, Satsuki Shinohara couldn't hold back her admiration.
To an ordinary person, Ibuki's strength was unbelievable.
Most grown men couldn't achieve this level, let alone a girl. It was a testament to years of relentless training and innate talent.
"Not bad, not bad,"
Kure Ragna acknowledged, raising a brow.
Then, his tone shifted.
"I get why girls use kicks—to compensate for lower upper body strength."
"But whoever taught you should've warned you… using kicks recklessly leaves openings.
"If you're not a hundred percent sure you'll land a hit, you never throw one."
The strong wind of her attack rushed at him. Yet, just like before, Kure Ragna raised a single hand—effortlessly catching her kick.
Then, tightening his fingers around her ankle, he threw her.
Weightlessness overtook Ibuki as she spun through the air. Yet, even in midair, she adjusted—twisting her body to land lightly on her toes.
The impact rippled through her joints as she absorbed the shock, her movements as fluid as a cat's.
She looked up at Kure Ragna, tilting her chin.
"How's that?"
Kure Ragna simply shook his head.
"Decent talent, sure…"
But his words trailed off, unimpressed.
A normal fighter wouldn't waste time with flashy aerial maneuvers. In midair, there was nowhere to move, nowhere to dodge.
If he had wanted to, he could've struck her the moment she was vulnerable, ending it instantly.
Instead, he sighed.
"Enough of this farce."
Sensing danger, Ibuki tensed, instinct screaming that something big was coming. She braced herself—
Then—
Kure Ragna disappeared.
Where—?!
Ibuki's eyes darted around, but he was gone. She was sure—absolutely sure—she hadn't let him out of her sight. Had she blinked?
Then—
"Where are you looking?"
The voice came from behind—above.
Ibuki spun, fist flying—
But she hit nothing.
"Same mistake."
The same voice, the same angle.
This was an assassination technique passed down through generations in the Kure clan.
The principle was simple—it all depended on who was using it.
"It's dark," Kure Ragna muttered.
"Close your eyes."
And then—
A single chop to the back of Ibuki's neck.
Snap.
The sound wasn't loud, but it hit Ibuki like a sledgehammer. Her vision blurred, and she staggered before her body finally gave out.
Darkness swallowed her whole.
---
It might have been minutes or even ten. But when Ibuki Mio came to, she was still surrounded—like a rare animal on display.
And the first thing she saw was that annoying face.
A smirking Kure Ragna, sunglasses and all.
"Hey," he waved his hand lazily.
"You're not dead yet. No angels, no heaven. Just me."
Ibuki groaned.
"I swear to god, I'm gonna punch you."
Weak as her voice was, she still managed to glare at him.
Then, exhaling, she let her gaze drift upward—toward the vast blue sky.
"As you can see," she muttered.
"I lost. Do whatever you want."
"Oh?"
Kure Ragna raised an eyebrow.
"Just like that?"
Ibuki shot him a look.
"I meant legal punishment, dumbass."
"Tch."
Clicking his tongue in mock disappointment, Kure Ragna quickly resumed his usual grin.
Then, raising a finger in front of her, he leaned forward.
"But, actually… I do need you to do something for me."
Ibuki frowned.
"As long as you do what I say," he continued,
"I'll forget everything you pulled in our camp. No punishment. No consequences. Sounds like a sweet deal, right?"
Ibuki stared at him.
Then, sighing, she muttered:
"…Do I have a choice?"
Kure Ragna's smirk widened.
"Unfortunately, no."
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