The figure cracked his neck.
Then charged.
Ryoji met him halfway.
Steel slammed against steel—two blurs colliding in the warehouse gloom. The impact shook the walls, rattled the rusted rafters above. Sparks sprayed as their weapons met—blades ringing, fists hammering, two war machines forged in different eras.
This wasn't just a fight. It was a reckoning.
Ryoji spun low, slicing toward the figure's legs. The enemy flipped backward mid-strike, landed, and lunged again—fluid, mechanical, merciless.
The red-lit veins pulsing down his armor brightened with each movement.
Miura grabbed Aiko and pulled her toward a side passage. "Stay behind me. Move!"
"But—Ryoji—!" Aiko looked back as the war echoed behind them.
"I said move!"
Ryoji ducked a killing strike, rolled beneath a forklift, and popped up with two knives drawn. He circled the enemy, breath sharp.
The man stalked toward him—slow now, savoring it.
Ryoji narrowed his eyes. "You're not like the others…"
The attacker stopped. Tilted his head.
Then reached up—unclipping his helmet.
A hiss of air. Rain steam curled off cybernetic plating.
The helmet dropped.
Ryoji's heart froze.
The face beneath was pale, half-metal. The left eye glowed red. But the right—
The right eye was all too human.
"…Kurogane."
A name whispered like a ghost from a grave.
Ryo Kurogane. Once his comrade. Once the only man who could match him in the field.
Now reborn as a weapon.
"You were dead."
"I was abandoned," Ryo replied. His voice was layered—flesh over steel, pain over programming.
"Shirow rebuilt me. He gave me clarity."
"He turned you into a freak."
"He made me better."
Ryoji struck first.
The warehouse became a war zone. Knife strikes, palm counters, elbow jabs. They moved like memories—trained in the same arts, shaped by the same black-ops bloodline.
But one had evolved.
Ryo Kurogane was faster. Stronger. Merciless.
Ryoji was only human.
And he was bleeding.
Thrown through a stack of crates, Ryoji crashed hard. Wood splintered. He pushed up, groaning—blood in his mouth.
Across the room, Kurogane stepped forward like a walking execution. No emotion. No hesitation.
Just the mission.
From above, Miura fired—a desperate burst from the catwalk.
Kurogane turned and threw a steel beam like a spear.
It hit the catwalk. The entire platform shook. Miura dove, barely missing death.
"Go!" she shouted at Aiko. "Run!"
Kurogane turned back toward Ryoji.
"You're outmatched."
"Not yet," Ryoji coughed. He flipped a switch behind him—activating the overhead crane.
The magnetic hook dropped with a shriek.
Kurogane looked up.
Too late.
BANG!
The crane's payload slammed into his back, crushing him through the far wall in a rain of concrete and sparks.
Dust fell.
Ryoji dropped to one knee.
But even then—he didn't relax.
Footsteps.
Slow. Dragging.
The Crimson Ghost rose again.
His left arm hung loose. His armor cracked. But his eyes still glowed.
Still locked on Ryoji.
"You'll have to do better than that."
Ryoji stood, battered but unbroken.
"I plan to."
To be continued in Chapter 24...