"Target?"
Minister Sarin furrowed his brows in confusion. "You mean the pirates?"
"They've taken control of the western port and are using it as their base!" King Haritch XIX quickly explained.
"I see."
The black-haired boy nodded, speaking in a calm, almost indifferent tone. "Then I'll handle the rest."
Without another word, the boy turned and began to walk away.
"Wait!"
King Haritch XIX stood from his throne, his expression solemn. "Please, no matter what, ensure the safety of the hostages first. I beg you."
"Are you criticizing the World Government?" the black-haired boy asked coldly, pausing mid-step. Though his back remained turned to the king and minister, he slightly tilted his head as he spoke.
In that instant, his eyes narrowed dangerously, and an icy bloodlust erupted from his small frame.
Haritch XIX's face went pale, sweat dripping down his brow as a chill ran through him. What is this terrifying pressure…? Is this bloodlust?!
"So what if someone does criticize them?"
Suddenly, a clear voice echoed from beyond the palace doors. "Even the World Government isn't above reproach, is it?"
Tap. Tap. Tap…
All eyes in the grand palace hall turned toward the entrance. Footsteps rang clearly in the darkness of the corridor, and soon, a figure emerged into the flickering torchlight of the hall.
"Count Cross!"
Seeing the newcomer, both King Haritch XIX and Minister Sarin called out in surprise and relief.
"Your Majesty. Sarin-dono. Good evening."
Cross approached the black-haired boy, offering a polite bow and greeting to the king and minister.
"Count Cross, it's a blessing you've returned, but, are you all right?"
Haritch XIX's eyes caught on the bandages wrapped around Cross's torso, and his voice betrayed concern.
Cross tugged at the lapels of his black-and-blue striped coat, giving a light chuckle. "Just a run-in with a tough opponent. Flesh wounds, nothing a few days' rest won't fix."
"By the way, General Humil is outside inspecting the troops. He's making preparations in case the pirates launch a—"
"Hey," the black-haired boy cut in, expressionless as he stared at Cross. "That was you just now, wasn't it?"
"Oh? You got a problem with that?"
Cross turned to face him, a smirk tugging at his lips. "The World Government is composed of over 170 member nations. The Kingdom of Tobias is one of them. And you? Just a brat. What right do you have to speak to a king like that? I could kill you right now, and the World Government wouldn't bat an eye."
The black-haired boy narrowed his eyes, silent, staring Cross down with an unwavering gaze.
Cross didn't flinch. He stared right back, eyes filled with scorn.
This black-haired youth was none other than Rob Lucci, yes, that Rob Lucci. The coldest and most lethal weapon the World Government had ever produced under CP9, regarded as the strongest agent in CP9's 800-year history.
It was this very mission that earned him that dark reputation, at the mere age of thirteen, he singlehandedly resolved a kingdom-level crisis by executing 500 captured soldiers deemed "unfit" and assassinating the pirate captain responsible. This was the deed that earned him admission into CP9.
His rationale for killing those 500 soldiers? "If they were so easily captured, they posed a future threat to the nation. Weakness is a crime."
Rob Lucci, the youth who worshipped necessary evil and lived by a justice born in shadow.
But this time, things would be different.
Because Cross lived in this kingdom now, and there was no way he'd allow 500 hostages to be sacrificed again.
Inside the palace, the two teens, neither yet fully grown, stood locked in a silent clash. Their oppressive auras collided in the air, heavy and suffocating.
King Haritch XIX, the attendants by the door, everyone present was frozen, beads of cold sweat trickling down their faces.
Perhaps it wasn't an exaggeration: either of these two youths could determine the fate of this kingdom.
"Insulting the World Government? That's a death sentence."
Lucci's voice was frigid as his eyes sharpened, his verdict delivered. Without hesitation, he raised his right hand and drove his index finger forward like a spear, aiming straight for Cross's chest.
CRACK—!
In an instant, Cross's hand shot up like lightning, catching Lucci's wrist mid-strike. The force of their clash sent a visible shockwave through the air between them.
"What?!"
Lucci's eyes widened. He hadn't expected a boy barely older than himself to stop his Shigan, to completely halt it. The strength of the grip was so overwhelming, he couldn't even pull his hand back.
"A thrust using just the index finger… channeling one's entire body's power into that hardened point, striking with explosive force. Strong enough to pierce flesh. Almost like a bullet. Impressive technique. Got any more?"
Cross narrowed his eyes with a gleam of curiosity, analyzing Lucci's technique in a tone more intrigued than hostile.
Truth be told, he'd been eyeing the Rokushiki for a while now. But as a youth from a small, unimportant nation, he had little exposure to such elite techniques. So he decided to play dumb, hoping to bait Lucci into revealing more.
Lucci's cold mask cracked. He frowned. "You… figured out Shigan?"
"So it's called Shigan, huh? Suits it." Cross nodded as if learning it for the first time. Then he grinned. "Why don't you take a look at my version of it, see if I got it right?"
Without waiting for a reply, Cross released Lucci's wrist, raised his right hand, and extended his index finger. Then, mimicking Lucci's earlier move, he launched a strike, lightning-fast and backed by reach and precision, his finger darted forward like a spear.
"You learned it after seeing it once?!"
Lucci's face twisted in disbelief. He instinctively twisted away, barely dodging Cross's Shigan.
Cross beamed. He loved it. Immediately, he fired off several more strikes, his finger flicking out in rapid succession.
"Kami-e!"
Lucci dodged again and again, each time narrowly avoiding the attacks. But internally, he was reeling: He really did it… He actually learned Shigan from a single demonstration!
Cross continued to poke at him with rapid-fire jabs, muttering as he observed the way Lucci moved.
"Another technique, huh? You release all the tension in your body, let your movements flow with the currents in the air created by your opponent's actions… a form of reactive evasion. Interesting."
"Tch, don't think you can copy everything!"
Lucci's face darkened. With a sharp exhale, he leapt back, performing a backflip and landing several meters away. Then, without pause, he swung his leg out in a wide horizontal arc. A razor-sharp blade of air exploded from the kick, slicing forward through the open space.
"Rankyaku!!!"
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