"Not planning to come out, huh?"
Ryuuto stood in front of the tree, arms crossed, voice calm. His sharp eyes flicked toward the shadows, catching the faint glint of metal.
A heartbeat later, the air split. Cards, throwing knives, and machetes burst from the darkness like a storm of death. Whoever was attacking wasn't playing around—every strike aimed straight for his vitals.
Ryuuto tilted his head. "Wow. That's cute. You aiming to kill me or just showing off?"
The attacks were fast, vicious, and perfectly timed. Any normal fighter would already be skewered. But Ryuuto wasn't normal.
He vanished.
A single shimmer of red light, and the blades sliced nothing but air.
When he reappeared a few meters away, not a scratch marked him. His teleportation—smooth, silent, almost arrogant—mocked the ambusher's effort.
Then came the real surprise. The thugs Gwen had webbed earlier started convulsing violently, eyes bulging wide.
"Gwen! Back off!" Ryuuto barked.
She leapt back instinctively.
BOOM!
The street lit up with three explosions in rapid succession. Blood mist sprayed across the cracked pavement—every one of those thugs had been rigged with bombs.
"Seriously? Human grenades now?" Ryuuto muttered. "That's some next-level psycho stuff."
From the smoke, a mocking voice echoed.
"Not bad, kid. Fast reflexes. You might actually be worth killing personally."
Bullseye stepped out, flipping his daggers with a manic grin. His eyes burned with thrill—the look of a man who lived for murder.
Ryuuto sighed, drawing his grass-blade sword. "You talk too much."
They clashed.
Steel flashed, blades shrieked, and sparks scattered like fireworks. Their movements blurred, too fast for the eye to follow. The sound of metal on metal filled the night—merciless, rhythmic, like a song played by killers.
Bullseye lunged low, daggers tracing silver arcs. Gwen moved at the same instant, firing webs in a blur. "Let's see you dance now!"
Her webbing snapped around Bullseye's legs, locking them tight. He stumbled, eyes widening in shock.
Ryuuto smirked. "Nice setup."
In a breath, he drove his blade forward, piercing Bullseye clean through the chest.
"Lesson one," Ryuuto said coldly. "Bite the hand that feeds you, and you'll choke on it."
Bullseye coughed blood, but his grin twisted wider. "Heh… didn't expect that spine from you, Red Mirage."
Then he dropped his weapons, grabbed the blade with both hands, and forced it deeper—eyes wild with defiance. With a roar, he yanked out one hand and slashed his dagger toward Ryuuto's neck.
"You idiot," Ryuuto muttered.
His grin turned feral. His neck extended like a striking serpent—Shion's Orochimaru data packet activating with a hiss. His fangs sank deep into Bullseye's throat before the man even realized what happened.
Bullseye's face went black. He choked, clutching his neck. "You… freak…"
"Yeah," Ryuuto said flatly, watching the poison take effect. "Welcome to my level."
Gwen stepped up, cracking her knuckles. "Still twitching? I'll fix that."
Together, they beat the assassin into the ground until his screams faded into a groan. When they were done, he looked less like a killer and more like a broken dummy wrapped in webs.
Gwen frowned. "So… what now? He's not dead, right?"
Ryuuto shrugged. "He's breathing. Unfortunately."
He squatted beside Bullseye, patting his cheek. "So, who sent you? I'm guessing your big shiny boss Jugor, right?"
Bullseye spat blood. "Kill me if you can. I don't talk."
"Oh, you'll talk." Ryuuto's smirk sharpened. "Just not the way you think."
He pressed two fingers together and muttered, "Mind Conversion Jutsu."
Bullseye's eyes rolled back instantly as Ryuuto dove into his mind.
A moment later, Ryuuto opened his eyes and exhaled. "Figures. Quicksilver's the snake pulling the strings."
He rose, slinging Bullseye's limp body over his shoulder. "Let's pay him and Jugor a visit."
Gwen's eyes gleamed. "You mean—?"
"Yeah. Time to burn their nest to the ground."
They blurred forward, vanishing into the night.
Meanwhile, deep inside the prison hideout, Jugor lounged on his bunk, lazily counting money. His thugs stood in line like obedient dogs.
"How's Bullseye's mission going?" Jugor asked without looking up.
"Boss, he took the crew out hours ago. Should be back soon with good news," one thug said quickly, bowing.
Jugor froze mid-count, eyes narrowing. "You didn't monitor him?"
"Uh… no, boss, he hates being watched—"
SMACK!
The thug flew across the room from Jugor's backhand.
"You worthless trash! That mission determines our deal with Magneto, and you let him vanish blind?!"
The man stammered, trembling. "Boss, please, I—"
Jugor's hand closed around his throat. A sickening crack followed.
The others flinched, not daring to breathe.
Jugor tossed the corpse aside, expression calm again. "Clean that up. And pray Bullseye brings results… or you'll be next."
The room fell silent except for the sound of money fluttering through his fingers.