Ten thousand?

  The thought cut through Kageheishi's tactical assessment like a blade. His mind, trained through years of combat experience to remain calm under any circumstance, momentarily faltered.

  That's... impossible.

  Ten thousand votes at twenty years old violated every known progression model. Even prodigies from the most prestigious academies—students who received preferential vote allocation, professional training, optimal Aspect development—rarely exceeded 3,000 votes by their early twenties.

  Five thousand was considered genius-level.

  Seven thousand was legendary.

  Ten thousand was absurd.

  Kaito's abnormal energy output wasn't just strong—it was predatory. The pressure radiating from his body actively repulsed everything in its vicinity, including Kageheishi's own aura. The purple energy that had been circling his form in perfect harmony began to dissipate, fleeing behind him, as if the very concept of aura could experience fear.

  The situation had escalated beyond acceptable risk parameters. Kageheishi's tactical assessment updated in real-time, running probability calculations that all returned the same conclusion:

  Direct engagement: inadvisable.

  Success probability: too low to justify attempt.

  "No wonder you were so arrogant. You—"

  Kaito closed the distance.

  Not in a blur. Not with visible movement. One moment he was fifteen feet away. The next moment he was there, face-to-face with Kageheishi, fist already in motion.

  Kageheishi was known throughout the Harbor Group for his extreme speed. He was faster than any of the other High Cadres, by a large margin. His Aura specifically enhanced velocity and reaction time, allowing him to operate at speeds that made normal combat look like slow motion.

  But in front of this disaster, did speed even matter anymore?

  ***

  BOOOOOOOM

  The warehouse's exterior wall exploded outward. Concrete, metal, and reinforcing steel detonated into fragments that sprayed across the compound like shrapnel. The shockwave rippled through the night air, loud enough to trigger car alarms three blocks away.

  Kaito's fist had connected with something—or rather, had connected with the space where something had been a microsecond earlier. The lack of restraint in his strike meant the energy had to go somewhere. When it couldn't find a target, it simply erased everything in its trajectory.

  Purple smoke circled Kaito's fist, dissipating slowly into the night air. Then it reformed—not randomly, but with deliberate structure. The energy coalesced in front of him, shaping itself into a familiar pattern.

  Three magatama. Arranged in a circular formation. Rotating slowly.

  They surrounded a central void, representing... what? A clan symbol? An Aspect manifestation? A calling card?

  Then a voice emerged from deep within the rubble, muffled but clear.

  "Sorry for you. You fell right into our trap."

  Kaito's eyes widened with sudden understanding.

  A clone.

  Of course. The figure he'd been fighting wasn't the original Kageheishi at all. It was a duplicate, a decoy designed to waste time, gather intelligence, and bait him into exactly this kind of reckless attack.

  The memory hit him like cold water.

  ***

  "One of the High Cadres is a Master of Cloning."

  Arata sat across from Kaito in his apartment, laptop open, surrounded by notes and research materials he'd compiled over the past hours. His expression carried that particular blend of exasperation and resignation that appeared whenever he had to brief Kaito on important tactical information.

  Like a father explaining something important to a perpetually distracted son.

  Kaito wasn't listening. He was too busy demolishing the absolutely massive fried chicken leg he'd pulled from his jacket pocket—where he'd been storing it, how long it had been there, and whether it was even safe to eat remained mysteries Arata had learned not to investigate.

  "Kaito. Are you paying attention?"

  "Mmhmm!" Kaito nodded enthusiastically, mouth too full to form actual words.

  "What did I just say?"

  "Something about... clowns?"

  Arata closed his eyes and took a deep breath, clearly calling upon reserves of patience that were running dangerously low.

  "Clones. One of the High Cadres specializes in creating perfect duplicates. They can split their consciousness, operate multiple bodies simultaneously, and use them for reconnaissance, combat, or deception. If you encounter him during the infiltration, you need to—"

  "Got it, got it!" Kaito waved dismissively, finally swallowing. "Don't worry so much, Arata. I'll figure it out when we get there."

  Arata stared at him with an expression that eloquently communicated exactly how much confidence that statement inspired.

  ***

  "Arata!"

  The realization hit too late. Falling into their trap meant his friend had probably run straight into an even bigger one.

  Arata was chasing the Boss. Alone. Without backup. Possibly walking directly into a coordinated ambush designed specifically to separate and eliminate them.

  He'd made a mistake. A stupid, obvious mistake that Arata had specifically warned him about.

  If anything happened to Arata, he would never forgive himself.

  ***

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The car had traveled approximately ten miles from the Tsukuyomi Estate when it turned onto a smaller access road leading toward the waterfront. Arata followed at a distance, using buildings and street infrastructure for cover.

  The vehicle slowed as it approached a private dock area—one of dozens scattered along Tokyo's commercial waterfront, most of them owned by corporations or wealthy individuals who valued discrete access to maritime transport.

  The car stopped.

  Arata dropped into a crouch behind a shipping container, breathing hard. His legs burned from the sustained sprint, his energy reserves depleted by nearly thirty percent from that single chase. He'd need to manage consumption carefully from here forward.

  The Boss emerged from the vehicle, flanked by his bodyguards. They moved with practiced efficiency toward the dock where a vessel waited, engine already running, deck lights illuminating the boarding area.

  Not just any vessel.

  A cruise ship.

  Arata's eyes widened as he took in the scale. The ship was enormous—easily 1000 feet long, maybe more. It had multiple decks, a sleek white hull and windows that probably cost more than his entire apartment building. The kind of luxury that existed in a different reality from normal human experience.

  The engines produced a low, thrumming sound, not the diesel rumble of standard maritime vessels, but something smoother. More refined. The kind of engineering that came from unlimited budgets and access to the best naval architects money could buy.

  But the luxury wasn’t what held his attention. Something else pressed against his awareness.

  The energy.

  Even from this distance, Arata could feel the barrier surrounding the ship. Not a physical structure, but a defensive layer woven from concentrated energy—probably multiple overlapping techniques, synchronized to create an impenetrable defense.

  The barrier covered the entire vessel. Hull, decks, superstructure, everything. It pulsed with a rhythm that suggested active monitoring rather than static defense. Whoever had created this wasn't just powerful—they were meticulous. A perfectionist who'd spent significant time and resources ensuring absolute security.

  Even an amateur could sense it. The difference in quality between this and standard protective barriers was like comparing a professional fortification to a chain-link fence.

  The Boss walked up the boarding ramp, his bodyguards maintaining formation around him. A crew member waited at the top, bowing deeply as the Boss passed. Professional. Deferential. Exactly the kind of behavior that indicated this wasn't the Boss's first time using this particular vessel.

  And behind them, being escorted by two more guards, walked Mika.

  She moved quietly, mechanically, eyes downcast. Without resistance or struggle. Just defeated compliance.

  Arata's fists clenched.

  The crew member who'd greeted the Boss scanned the dock area, performing a final security check before departure. His eyes swept across the shipping containers, the access road, and the surrounding warehouse structures.

  Arata pressed himself flatter against his cover, minimizing his profile.

  The crew member apparently saw nothing concerning. He turned back toward the ship, pressed something on a control panel near the boarding ramp, and began the process of sealing the gate.

  The ship would depart within minutes, maybe even seconds.

  Arata had to get aboard.

  His mind quickly worked through the problem, analyzing the barrier's energy pattern. The coverage was immaculate—no gaps, no weak points, no fluctuations in density that would indicate vulnerability. Whoever had designed this understood defensive theory at a level Arata could only admire from a technical standpoint.

  But there was one necessity that created opportunity: the boarding gate. It had to open and close, which meant the barrier covering it had to be temporarily weakened during each cycle. Otherwise, the gate would collide with its own defensive layer, creating energy feedback that would damage both systems.

  Arata didn't hesitate.

  He launched himself from cover, energy flooding his legs as he accelerated toward the dock. His brain calculated the approach vector, the timing, the exact moment when—

  "Why..."

  A voice materialized beside him. Deep. Distorted. Multiple tones layered over each other in that same mechanical wrongness he'd heard in the warehouse.

  "Why did you get rid of your strongest asset?"

  Three kunai appeared in his peripheral vision—not thrown at where he was, but where he would be in approximately 0.8 seconds based on his current velocity.

  Perfect predictive targeting.

  Arata's momentum carried him forward, inertia fighting against his attempt to stop. Changing direction mid-sprint at this speed was nearly impossible.

  His only option was brutal deceleration.

  Arata slammed his feet down and leaned back, energy exploding from his legs to absorb momentum. His body was practically horizontal, spine arced backward and arms extended for balance. The kunai whistled past him, close enough that he felt the air displacement against his face.

  They embedded themselves in a wooden crate behind him with solid thunk sounds.

  Arata looked toward the ship. The energy around the boarding gate was already intensifying, the temporary weakness closing as the sealing process activated. Within seconds, it would be as impenetrable as the rest of the barrier.

  That bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

  Arata didn't have time anymore. Maybe five seconds. Maybe less. He needed to eliminate whoever was attacking him immediately and reach that gate before—

  He scanned his surroundings, searching for his opponent.

  Nothing. The dock was empty. There were only shadows cast by shipping containers and warehouse structures. No visible target.

  "Where are you looking?"

  An arm wrapped around Arata's shoulders in a casual side-hug, the owner of that distorted voice speaking directly into his ear like they were old friends sharing a secret.

  Arata's fist moved on pure instinct, energy detonating from his knuckles as he twisted and struck toward the voice's source. The blow was fast, powerful, backed by enough force to shatter the dock’s floor.

  It hit nothing.

  Just empty air and the fading sensation of presence.

  What? How?

  The voice manifested behind him.

  "Confused?"

  Arata spun around.

  Kageheishi stood fifteen feet away, perfectly illuminated by the ship's deck lights. The darkness had hidden details before, but now Arata could see him clearly. The tactical suit. The mask. The purple eyes glowing, showing what resembled curiosity.

  Seeing him under proper lighting felt different. Like this person belonged exclusively in the shadows.

  Arata stared, waiting for the next move. His mind ran through counter-strategies, but every scenario ended with the same problem: if this individual was strong enough to get rid of Kaito—no if he was simply strong enough to survive against Kaito, he was probably someone Arata couldn’t easily take down.

  He couldn't think about the ship anymore. This figure represented the immediate threat.

  Kageheishi's purple eyes locked onto Arata's, the glow intensifying slightly.

  "Don't worry..."

  His head tilted, the gesture carrying visible amusement.

  "I'm not stopping you."

  Arata's eyes widened.

  What is he talking about?

  "By coming here, you have already sealed your own fate."

  Fwoosh.

  Kageheishi vanished, leaving only a wind trail and the faint afterimage of purple energy where he'd been standing.

  Arata remained frozen for exactly one second, processing what had just happened, running through possible explanations for why an enemy combatant would actively allow him to board the ship.

  The gate was closing, he didn’t have time to think about it anyway. The window was measured in heartbeats now. Overthinking would accomplish nothing except guaranteeing failure.

  Arata immediately dashed toward the gate.

  Hopefully he still had time to pass through it.

  This should be enough.

  Arata emitted a burst of black Aura.

  CRACK

  The barrier shattered like glass, fragments of condensed energy dispersing into the night air. The physical gate behind it buckled under the impact, metal deforming, electronic locks failing as their housing warped beyond tolerance.

  Arata landed on the deck, momentum carrying him several feet before he managed to stop.

  He knew immediately that this wasn't optimal. Whoever had designed this barrier—whoever had invested the time and resources to create such meticulous protection—was definitely the kind of person who monitored their work obsessively.

  They knew someone had just breached their security.

  They knew exactly where, and they were probably already moving to respond.

  Behind him, the damaged gate hung at an awkward angle, barrier fragments still dissipating into nothing, alarms beginning to sound from somewhere inside the ship’s superstructure.

  Arata straightened, black energy still circling his body, eyes scanning the deck for immediate threats.

  The hunt continued.