Daka clenched his fists, his legs still shaky but his resolve unwavering. "I can’t leave. I have to save my friend, Sockoo."

  Duella, who had been walking away, suddenly stopped.

  Slowly, he turned his head, his green eyes narrowing. "Do you even understand how dangerous Strikeka is?" His voice was sharp, almost scolding.

  Daka furrowed his brows. "I don’t care how dangerous he is! Sockoo is in there, and I’m not leaving her behind!"

  Duella let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his dark green hair. "You don’t get it… Strikeka and I used to be classmates back in the day. He was always a greedy, egotistical fool." His voice grew heavier. "He nearly killed me, Baku, and the rest of Demontail so many times."

  Daka’s eyes widened. "You knew him personally…?"

  Duella nodded. "He’s not the kind of man you can just ‘save’ someone from. If he has your friend, then he’s already thought ten steps ahead. This isn’t just some fight, Daka—this is a war."

  Daka grit his teeth. "That doesn’t matter. No matter how dangerous he is, I refuse to back down!"

  Duella stared at him for a long moment, his face unreadable behind his mask. Finally, he spoke.

  "Then prove it."

  Daka blinked. "Huh?"

  Duella unsheathed his sword once more, the blade gleaming under the dim light. "If you’re serious about fighting Strikeka, then fight me. Show me that you’re ready to face a monster like him."

  Daka’s heart pounded in his chest. His body was still exhausted, but the fire inside him burned brighter than ever.

  He took a deep breath and raised his fists. "Fine. I’ll prove it to you."

  Rizra, still struggling to stand, weakly grabbed Daka’s arm. "Daka, you barely have any magic left. This isn’t the time for this!" She pleaded, her voice filled with concern.

  Daka shook her off gently, determination in his eyes. "I must. I have to prove I’m ready for Strikeka... for Sockoo." His voice was unwavering, though his body was clearly drained from the earlier battle.

  Duella’s serious eyes studied Daka for a long moment before he finally spoke. "It’s a one slash match, Daka. If you can’t land a single blow on me, I’ll know you’re not ready."

  Daka’s hands trembled, but his resolve only grew stronger. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned his Golden Spear—the magic-infused weapon appearing in his hand with a sharp, glowing light. "I won’t back down, no matter what!" Daka declared, taking a fighting stance.

  Duella didn’t move, his expression calm, as if waiting for Daka to make his move. "Then prove it."

  With his heart pounding in his chest, Daka charged forward, his steps shaky but fueled by a burning desire to show that he was ready. As he closed the distance, he hurled the spear toward Duella, the weapon cutting through the air with deadly precision.

  Daka and Duella clashed with incredible speed, their movements a blur as they exchanged slashes. The sound of steel cutting the air echoed as the two warriors matched each other in skill and determination. For a moment, it seemed like Daka might actually land a hit, but before he could react, Duella landed a massive slash across Daka’s back.

  Daka collapsed to the ground, gasping in pain, but when he tried to move, he saw Duella had also taken a blow. A small cut ran along Duella’s side, but he showed no sign of pain, keeping his expression stoic.

  A faint, knowing smile crossed Duella's lips as he gazed at Daka, and then he turned his attention to Rizra. "You did well, Daka,"Duella said, his voice unexpectedly soft. "But you’re not ready yet. You still have a long way to go." Without waiting for a response, he tossed two medical potions and a vial of Magic Revival towards Rizra. "Use them on yourselves. You need to be in your best shape for what’s ahead."

  Duella’s expression shifted back to seriousness as he stood up and turned toward the door. "I’ll go ahead to find Strikeka. I’ll give you time to recover. Don’t waste it." With those final words, Duella disappeared through the door, his footsteps echoing in the distance.

  Rizra rushed to Daka’s side, quickly uncorking the potions Duella gave her. She carefully administered the healing liquid to Daka before applying the Magic Revival to both of them. The pain in Daka’s back slowly started to fade, and his magic began to recover.

  Rizra looked at him with concern but also determination. "Are you okay, Daka? We need to catch up to Duella and find Strikeka, and we can’t afford to fall behind."

  Daka, still struggling to stand, grinned weakly. "I’m fine. Let’s go. We have a mission."

  Together, they steadied themselves and prepared to continue, knowing that the battle ahead was far from over.

  Makoto, ever the social one, walked alongside Bondo, trying to break the silence. "So, Bondo, have you ever tried ice cream? I heard it’s a great way to relax after a tough fight," Makoto said, giving a casual grin, hoping to lighten the mood.

  Bondo, however, didn’t even glance at him. His eyes remained forward, his focus unwavering as he continued walking. "Not interested," he replied, his voice flat and uninterested, completely absorbed in the task at hand.

  Makoto chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Come on, just imagine it—something cold and sweet after you’ve spent hours in a life-or-death situation. Sounds good, right?"

  But Bondo didn’t respond, his eyes narrowed, scanning their surroundings as they moved forward. Makoto, realizing that his attempts to break the ice were failing, fell into a quieter pace. He threw in a half-hearted joke about fighting while having dessert, but Bondo’s silence only made it clear that he wasn’t there for small talk.

  After a while, Makoto sighed and shifted his tone. "I get it. You're more focused on the mission than on making friends. But hey, just know, I’m always here if you wanna talk or, you know, joke around. I think it helps sometimes... like it does for me."

  Still, Bondo remained silent, his serious demeanor unchanging. Makoto glanced at him, shaking his head with a small smile. "You really are all business, huh? Alright, I’ll leave you to it. I guess I’ll just stick to keeping an eye on everything... and maybe find a way to keep myself from getting bored while we walk."

  As they continued on, the silence between them grew more comfortable for Bondo, but Makoto couldn't help but wonder if, deep down, his companion appreciated the occasional distraction.

  As Makoto was about to crack another joke, Bondo suddenly snapped, "Shut up, Makoto," his tone sharp and cutting. It wasn’t that Bondo was upset at Makoto personally, but rather, he was completely focused on the situation ahead of them.

  Makoto froze, caught off guard by the harshness in Bondo’s voice. He was about to respond but then noticed what had drawn Bondo's attention. In the distance, there were two figures engaged in an intense battle. "What the—" Makoto muttered, squinting to get a clearer view.

  Bondo’s expression darkened. "That's my dad, Mondo, and yours, Gomoto."

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Makoto's eyes widened. "Wait, what?!"

  Indeed, it was Bondo's dad, Mondo, a towering, tank-like figure known for his near indestructible defense and goofy demeanor, locked in combat with Gomoto, Makoto's father, who was a serious and battle-smart strategist. They were fighting a mysterious man with wild black hair, sharp scars crisscrossing his face, and two different colored eyes that burned with a wild, almost manic energy.

  The mystery man, Ian, was no stranger to chaos. His crazed appearance only added to the tension of the scene. He moved with erratic, unpredictable force, his fighting style an unpredictable mix of speed and power. He almost seemed to thrive in the violence.

  Makoto’s heart sank. He had never seen his father, Gomoto, in this kind of situation before, and he wasn’t sure what was happening. "What’s going on? Why are they fighting?"

  Bondo’s anger flared. "That guy… Ian. He’s a psycho. I don’t know why he’s here, but I know he’s bad news. I can't let him keep fighting my dad."

  Makoto, still trying to process everything, felt a sudden surge of guilt. His dad and Bondo’s dad were two of the most capable fighters he knew, yet seeing them struggle against this madman threw him off balance. He looked at Bondo, seeing the rage in his eyes.

  "What are we gonna do? We can't just stand here," Makoto asked, his voice unsure.

  Bondo, usually so composed, gritted his teeth. "We need to end this fast." Without another word, Bondo lunged forward, ready to engage, but Makoto grabbed his arm.

  "Wait! What if they’re just testing him? This could be some kind of misunderstanding," Makoto reasoned, though even as he said it, he wasn’t sure.

  But Bondo shook his head. "No. Ian’s dangerous. He doesn’t leave anything to chance. If we don’t intervene, he’ll tear through everything. Trust me, I know."

  Makoto hesitated for a moment but then nodded. It wasn’t like they could stand by and watch their fathers get hurt by some madman, no matter the reason for the fight.

  "Let’s go then," Makoto said, determination hardening his voice.

  Together, they charged toward the battlefield, preparing for whatever chaos Ian was about to unleash.

  As they sprinted toward the scene of the fight, Makoto couldn't help but ask, "How do you know this Ian guy so well? I mean, why does he look so familiar to you?" His curiosity couldn't be contained as they ran side by side.

  Bondo's face tightened as he kept his eyes on the battlefield. "It’s a long story," he muttered. "But I’ll tell you. There was a livestream on YouTube from way before we were even born. It was a huge event at the time, one of the most talked-about battles in the Hamamoto family history. Baku Hamamoto, my old man’s captain, fought Ian and a bunch of other crazy people."

  Makoto’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Baku fought Ian? But… what happened? Wasn’t Baku a hero?"

  Bondo nodded but with a somber expression. "He was. But here's the thing: Bella, his girlfriend, was taken by someone from the opposing side during that battle. Baku thought she was dead, and that sent him into a blind rage. He went on a killing spree, decimating everyone in his path, including Ian."

  Makoto’s eyes widened. "Wait, hold up. You mean… Baku killed Ian?"

  Bondo’s face darkened, his voice barely a whisper. "Everyone thought he did. Ian was killed in the chaos. But now it’s clear that he didn’t die. He’s alive, and he’s been wreaking havoc since then. I don’t know how he survived, but the livestream was all over the internet, and my dad always told me about it."

  Makoto felt a chill crawl up his spine. "So… Ian is back. And he's fighting your dad and mine, huh? That’s crazy."

  Bondo clenched his fists, determination flooding his body. "Yeah, and now we’ve got to stop him before he makes things worse. If we don’t do something, who knows what kind of destruction he’ll cause this time."

  Makoto could feel the weight of the situation growing heavier. It wasn’t just about saving their fathers anymore; it was about facing a dangerous figure from the past, someone who had already caused irreparable damage once. And now he was back, seeking revenge or who knows what else.

  "Then let's make sure we don't let him get away this time."Makoto said, determination in his voice as they neared the battlefield.

  As the two rushed toward the battlefield, Gomoto's eyes snapped to Makoto the moment he entered the scene. There was a heavy tension in the air, and Makoto could feel it tightening around him like a vise. The pressure was palpable, and he knew his father—Gomoto—wasn't the type to let distractions slide.

  Gomoto's gaze was piercing, and there was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Makoto…" he said, voice low but firm. "What are you doing here?"

  Makoto froze for a moment, his nerves kicking in. He had never felt this kind of pressure from his father before. He wasn’t sure what to say, especially with the weight of everything going on around him. For a moment, he hesitated, trying to piece together his thoughts.

  Before he could form an answer, Mondo, Bondo's father, who had always been the goofy and lighthearted one, suddenly dashed over with a big grin on his face. He wrapped his arms around Bondo in an exuberant, bear-like hug. "Bondo, my boy! I’ve missed you!" he cheered, completely oblivious to the seriousness of the situation.

  Bondo's eyes narrowed in frustration. His dad's antics were never the right time. With a swift movement, Bondo punched the ground, sending Mondo sprawling face-first into the dirt.

  "Dad, seriously?!" Bondo groaned, facepalming. "This isn't the time for your goofy crap!"

  Mondo chuckled from the ground, wiping dirt from his face. "Come on, son. Don’t be like that! A hug never hurt anyone."

  Makoto couldn’t help but chuckle nervously at the scene. "I… I guess that’s one way to deal with things…" he muttered under his breath. He looked back up at his father, who was still eyeing him carefully, and added, "I didn’t mean to interrupt the fight. We just… heard the commotion and came to help."

  Gomoto's expression softened slightly, but his stance remained guarded. "This isn’t your fight, Makoto. You should stay out of it."

  Before Makoto could respond, Ian, the crazy-eyed opponent still locked in combat with Gomoto and Mondo, sneered at the scene. "Seems like the family’s having a reunion," he muttered darkly, still circling like a predator.

  Bondo tightened his grip on his fists. "If you’re thinking about making a move, Ian, think again."

  The air around them grew tense once more, the weight of past battles and unfinished business hanging thick. The battle wasn’t over yet, and even as Mondo continued to mess around, there was an unmistakable undercurrent of danger in the air. Everyone knew this wasn’t just some fight—it was a reckoning.

  Gomoto’s expression hardened, and he clenched his fists, staring down at Makoto. "If you want to survive out here, you need to stop acting like a child. Use your fists like a real fighter." His voice was cold, blunt—no room for argument. "Fighting is the only way to get stronger."

  Makoto’s eyes narrowed, his patience running thin. His usual jovial demeanor slipped away, revealing the deep frustration he'd been holding in. "I told you a million times, I refuse!" He spat out each word like a challenge, his voice loud and filled with anger. "I’m not going to fight the way you want me to, just because you think it's the only way!"

  His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and for a brief moment, the tension in the air thickened. Makoto’s face twisted in irritation, and he took a step forward, not backing down from his father.

  Bondo, who had always been used to the usual antics of Makoto—the jokes, the playful banter, the lightheartedness—felt a jolt of surprise. This was the first time he’d seen Makoto truly angry, and it hit him harder than he expected.

  Bondo took a step back, his eyes widening slightly. "Whoa, I—I've never seen you like this before," he muttered. His voice was low, unsure of how to handle the situation. He had always known Makototo be the goofy one, the one who lightened the mood. Seeing him so visibly upset, so serious, was a shock.

  Makoto glanced at Bondo for a moment, his anger briefly simmering down as he caught the concern in his friend’s eyes. "It’s not about the fighting, Bondo," he said, his voice quieter now. "I’m not going to do things just because my dad says so. I have my own way of doing things, and I’m not going to change for anyone, even him."

  Gomoto, still stern and unmoving, didn't respond right away. He simply gave a small, sharp sigh, his gaze unyielding. "You’re stubborn, Makoto. You’ll learn sooner or later."

  Makoto looked away, a mix of frustration and determination on his face. "I don’t need to fight like you, old man. I’m going to do it my way. That’s the only way I’ll grow." His words were final, resolute.

  Bondo, still processing the shift in Makoto's mood, nodded slowly, unsure how to help. "I get it, Makoto," he said quietly, stepping a little closer. "But... just don’t shut everyone out. We’re all here for you."

  Makoto didn’t answer right away. He simply glanced at Bondo, his face softening just a little. The fight was still ongoing, the tension around them thick. But for a moment, there was a break—an understanding between friends, even if it was brief.

  Makoto took a deep breath, reasserting his focus on the task ahead. The fight wasn’t over, and the stakes were still high. "Let’s finish this, Bondo," he muttered, his tone shifting back to determination. "We’ve got work to do."