'Fuck!'

  Debris rained down from above, kicking dust into the air.

  Hina's weary eyes locked on the plaster bulging downward. Her gaze shifted to her right arm, which held her sword.

  She tried raising it, but nothing moved. She could feel her sword slipping from her hand as it fell with a clang, the sound barely audible in her ears.

  'I can't feel my arms or legs,' she realized. Her vision slowly blurred, darkness creeping in.

  'We lost.'

  With that, her eyes shut, and her heart let out one final beat before stopping.

  "The weak belong at the bottom of the food chain," Terror said calmly as he walked toward Code's body. He reached Code and crouched beside him, casting a cold gaze on him.

  "They inevitably become instruments for the strong to rise," Terror continued.

  "This is my ideology: the weak only exist to be trampled upon."

  Terror slowly rose to his feet and raised Code's body. Then he raised his head and stopped.

  "Quite the monologue, I'd say," a voice greeted him.

  Terror's eyes narrowed slightly as he locked onto the man standing far ahead.

  The silvery glow of the moon reflected off his suit and silver mask.

  He held a nail chisel in hand, eyes focused on his nails as he chiseled them.

  "Didn't know demons had poetic types," Van chuckled.

  "Ackerman Van," Terror said, his tone deepening.

  "Hmm. Guess I'll just skip the introduction, then," Van replied, blowing on his nails.

  Terror tensed as the memory returned:

  "But let me warn you," Glock said. "Avoid Van Ackerman at all costs. Only I can take him on."

  (From Chapter 17: Barrier Breach)

  ...

  Terror's gaze darkened as he let go of Code's body.

  His fists clenched, the Rubik's cube pulsing, then his foot rose, and he took a step forward.

  But suddenly, Van's gaze snapped up to him. "Hey, you don't want to do that," he warned.

  "Huh?" Terror asked, taking another step, and that's when realization struck.

  'What the...?' Terror exclaimed, staring at his leg, which was no longer there. Blood was not gushing out from the stump.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  "What did you—!" He thrashed, his eyes widening as he jumped backward in alarm.

  "I didn't do anything," Van protested. "Well, maybe I should've warned you," he admitted, shrugging.

  "You see," Van began, raising his palm toward Terror. "Everything that comes too close to me is instantly atomized."

  His eyes glowed, a chilly aura seeping into the atmosphere from him.

  'Meaning proximity leads to instant erasure,' Terror realized, staggering backward.

  "Pretty cool, huh?" Van asked, grinning behind his mask. "I call it Disintegration Zone."

  "There's another one," he continued, but mid-sentence, he was no longer where he had been.

  "How did—?" Terror gasped, locking onto Van, who was right in front of him.

  Without a word, Van grabbed Terror's right palm and raised it until their fingers were interlocked.

  "I call this one Last Touch," Van announced.

  Ripples exploded through the air as Terror's body jerked backward, drifting to a halt numerous meters away.

  "Arrgh arrgh," Terror exhaled heavily, his eyes bulging. He glanced sideways, locking onto the right arm that was no longer there.

  "That one causes anything I touch to disintegrate," Van explained. "I feel like this one's cooler," he laughed.

  'Van Ackerman, so this is him,' Terror thought. 'The last living Ackerman, who wields the Ackerman style of particle manipulation.'

  Sinew and flesh gradually burst out of his arm and leg stumps, but Terror noticed something strange.

  "My regeneration's slow?" he muttered.

  "Yeah, that's why you should avoid attacks from me at all costs," Van replied. "They slow down regeneration so much it could take you up to three days before you can regenerate those parts."

  "Maybe I should've warned you about that too," he added smugly.

  'Shit,' Terror hissed, sweat sliding down his cheeks.

  "Nyah, I guess I've shown you enough," Van yawned lazily. "You see, I kinda consider fighting demons an act of bullying," he continued. "So do me a favor and get lost."

  'Cocky bastard,' Terror hissed inwardly. "However..." he whispered, raising his left palm toward Van.

  The same memory flashed.

  After Glock had warned him, Terror had replied: "If he avoids me... then I'll avoid him."

  ...

  '... I'll kill you here and prove my strength, Ackerman,' Terror mumbled, gaze hardening.

  The Rubik's cube spun, transforming from its white and black color to entirely white.

  'He's at a safe distance away, so I don't have to worry about his particulate disintegration prowess,' he thought.

  His lips parted, then came the whisper: "Duality Effect. Push: Oblivion bla—"

  "Pointless," Van cut in, standing directly in front of Terror's stretched palm.

  "What?!" Terror exclaimed, jerking backward.

  "Man, I'm never at a safe distance away," Van said. "Because I don't run..."

  His eyes slitted.

  "...I skip distance."

  'He does what?' Terror exclaimed internally.

  Before he could process the thought, a loud visceral splursh echoed.

  Blood did not spray, gore did not explode, but Terror knew something: the right vertical half of his body was gone.

  "Ugh!" He grunted, falling to the ground with a sickening thud.

  "So, uh, let me see," Van muttered, scanning Terror's body, his eyes glowing. Then he raised a finger and placed it against Terror's chest, the region where the heart was located.

  His flicked his finger at that spot...

  "GRUHH!!" Blood burst out of Terror's mouth as the flick force sent his body ramming through the soil until he slammed into a pole.

  "Good grief, I hate bullying," Van said to himself, flexing his arm.

  'I heard the rumors about his strength,' Terror thought. 'But it wasn't to this extent!'

  Van raised his palm again, eyes filled with cold indifference as he aimed it at Terror. "Particle Style—" he started, but suddenly paused.

  "Huh?" He tilted his head, then dropped his hand back. "Are we playing hide-and-seek now?" he muttered, spinning toward a building on his far right.

  "Hey, I know you're hiding. Come out already!" Van shouted, waving at the building as he grinned.

  "Uh?" Terror said, his gaze shifting to the building.

  "Good grief." The lazy response came, followed by draggy footsteps as the man stepped out of the building.

  "Man, what a night," he yawned. His deep black pupils seemed to absorb the moon's light into them.

  "Long time no see, Van," the man greeted, stepping into view.

  "It's been a while..." Van grinned. "Glock."