"You trying to run? Did I say you could? I've still got questions for you."
Cross let out a cold snort, his face emotionless. He crouched down and pressed his left palm to the ground, speaking in a low, commanding voice:
"Enliven: Stone Slabs!"
Vmmm—
A barely perceptible ripple of light spread outward from his palm.
In the next moment, the paving stones beneath their feet seemed to ripple like water. Then, as if some ancient seal had been broken, the slate blocks suddenly sprouted facial features, eyes and mouths, and came alive. They sprang up on the portside promenade, hopping and chuckling like a gang of mischievous children.
"What the hell are these things?!"
Budo hadn't gotten more than a few steps before he looked down in bewilderment, he was surrounded by a crowd of animated stone slabs.
"Master! Master!"
"Father! Father!"
"Call him Master!"
"No! Call him Father!"
"…"
Suddenly, the slabs started bickering among themselves. A few particularly short-tempered ones began headbutting the others in frustration, knocking each other over in a comical scuffle. Not to be outdone, the toppled ones scrambled back up and retaliated with equal fervor.
Damn it, we've just been brought to life for the first time, who's afraid of who?!
"That's enough! Take down the bald guy!" Cross barked, massaging his temples in irritation as the stone slabs bickered at his feet. He issued the command with a sharp tone.
"Yes, Master!"
"Father's angry!"
"Let's get him, boys!"
"I'm a girl, thank you very much!"
"Idiot, we don't have genders!"
"…"
Immediately, dozens, hundreds, of stone slabs sprang into action. Still arguing amongst themselves, they hopped and bounded straight toward the bald man in the center.
For their small size, barely the size of a pair of open hands, they moved remarkably fast.
"Argh—!"
They leapt at Budo with high-pitched war cries, slamming their bodies into him.
"Get off me!"
Budo dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding one slab's charge, then drew his flintlock and BANG, shattered it into rubble with a shot.
But more came flying in.
One after another, they hurled themselves at him with reckless abandon. Budo's eyes widened in alarm as he hastily raised his twin flintlocks and fired wildly in all directions.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Gunfire rang out. Lead bullets tore through the air, blasting chunks out of the rampaging stone horde.
Yet it was no use. There were simply too many. And they were too small. Even before Budo could get through a few reloads, several slabs had already crashed into him.
"OW—! My eye—! Get off! It hurts like hell—!"
Within moments, his screams were drowned out as his figure was buried beneath a storm of shrieking, giggling stone monsters.
Around them, Marines and bystanders stood frozen in shock, watching with jaws agape. Never in their wildest dreams had they imagined the paving stones under their feet could come alive, let alone become so aggressive and unruly.
Moments later, the mob of slabs scattered like restless children. Left lying on the ground was Budo, bruised, bloodied, and utterly defeated, his face a swollen mess.
The surrounding Marines snapped back to their senses and rushed forward, quickly subduing the captured pair with iron chains and cuffs.
Cross didn't linger. He waved his hand, rallying the animated slabs like a general commanding a battalion. With a chaotic chorus of chatter and thumps, they surged toward the other rioters across the port.
To be honest, no one knew who these thugs were or where they came from. Over a hundred of them, brutal, well-coordinated, and heavily armed. If it hadn't been for the two hundred veteran Marines from Branch 201 that Captain Moore brought with him, the line might've broken immediately.
But now, with Cross taking the field, the tide began to turn.
The animated slabs darted and weaved through the battlefield with uncanny agility. Hiding in crates, vaulting over barrels, they launched ambushes from unexpected angles. Their erratic charges wreaked havoc on the enemy lines.
"Gahh—!"
"What the hell is this?!"
"Get off me!"
"…"
The thugs fell into disarray. Many of those with firearms were forced to abandon cover, driven out by the relentless slab assaults. The Marines of Branch 201 took the opening and counterattacked with a hail of bullets, dropping a dozen enemies in the blink of an eye.
"Die, bastard!"
A bellow split the air as one thug came barreling toward Cross, brandishing a long-handled war blade and thrusting it at his midsection.
Cross stepped back and slashed.
In one clean motion, he sheared the weapon in two, then followed with another strike that sent the attacker sprawling. Without pause, he sidestepped a second thug's overhead slash and drove a heavy punch into the man's eye socket, knocking him out cold.
Like a demon on the battlefield, Cross cut down enemy after enemy with overwhelming strength. His katana, Kagehide, flashed with lethal precision, no one could withstand a single clash.
"Eighty million berries, he's mine!"
A thunderous roar erupted as a towering man, nearly four meters tall, locked eyes on Cross. It was Dickens, a musclebound brute who had abandoned his duel with Captain Moore the moment he caught sight of the boy.
He charged forward, hoisting a massive twin-bladed battle axe.
"Eighty million… These guys are here for Cross?!"
Moore's face darkened at the realization. He stopped mid-step, eyes narrowing in worry.
Cross looked up as the charging giant loomed, axe raised high.
"Executioner's Cleave!!"
CLANG—!
The massive weapon came down with a gale-force howl, only to crash into Cross's katana mid-swing, halted cold.
The impact rang out like a thunderclap, releasing a shockwave that blasted through the air, kicking up clouds of dust and sending nearby debris flying. The ground beneath Cross's feet cracked in a spiderweb pattern, unable to withstand the force.
"He blocked it?!"
Dickens blinked, stunned. The boy had caught his full-powered strike with one hand, his blade unwavering.
"You big oaf," Cross muttered, raising his gaze. His expression was calm, cold. "Not bad. You've got some strength."
With a flick of his wrist, he twisted the blade, and Dickens stumbled back, unable to hold his stance, retreating several steps in shock.
"H-how…?!" he gasped, dumbfounded. How could his strength, his specialty, be overpowered by a scrawny brat?
Suddenly, a nearby storefront window exploded, glass shards flying everywhere. From within, black shadows shot out, snaking toward Cross like lightning-fast tendrils.
"What now?!"
Cross's eyes narrowed. He immediately leapt back, then slashed without hesitation.
A visible arc of slicing wind erupted from his blade.
"One-Sword Style: Shockwave!"
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