Chapter 67: When the Prey Becomes the Predator!

Chapter 67: When the Prey Becomes the Predator!


Hours later, the faint light of dawn crept through the mouth of the cave, painting the rough stone walls in muted shades of orange and gold. The fire still burned softly at the entrance, embers crackling lazily, their warmth casting a soft glow across Bruce’s resting form.


He was asleep, or at least he had been.


His brow furrowed. His fingers twitched.


Something felt wrong.


It wasn’t the smoke or the heat from the fire, it was something else. A chill, an instinctive unease clawing at the edges of his consciousness. The kind of feeling that couldn’t be explained, only felt.


’Danger!’


Bruce’s eyes snapped open.


SWOOSH-!!!!


A sharp whizz cut through the air.


Without thinking, his hand shot out, gripping one of his daggers as he twisted instinctively, raising it above his head...


CLANG!!!!


The metallic clash rang violently through the cavern, echoing like a thunderclap. Sparks flew as steel met steel, the impact sending a jolt up Bruce’s arm.


’What the hell?!’ he thought, his pulse spiking as his muscles tensed.


He pushed up from his fur mattress, eyes narrowing as he met his attacker head-on.


A familiar face greeted him.


Black hair. Cold eyes. Two silver swords gleaming under the dim light.


"Ozai," Bruce said calmly, his lips curling into a faint smile. "I’ve been expecting you."


The confidence in his tone made Ozai’s grip falter ever so slightly.


That smile, it wasn’t arrogance. It was composure. The kind of calm that belonged to a man who had already seen death and didn’t fear it. Not just that, there was something about it that Ozai couldn’t pinpoint... A weird feeling...


A cold shiver ran down Ozai’s spine.


’What’s that look...?’ he thought, his heartbeat quickening.


Gritting his teeth, he let out a low growl and swung again.


CLANG!!!


Bruce deflected effortlessly, still wearing that same unsettling smile.


Ozai’s attacks came faster, slashes, thrusts, cross-cuts, each carrying over a ton and a half of raw force. His dual swords blurred through the air, a storm of silver arcs fueled by skill and frustration.


And yet..


Bruce didn’t budge.


His daggers moved with surgical precision, intercepting every strike with almost lazy grace. His footwork was light, his posture relaxed. Every parry was smooth, flowing from one motion into the next like water.


CLANG-!


CLANG-!!


CLANG-!!!


The cave rang with metal upon metal, the clash of two A-rank Awakened filling the air. Sparks lit up the dim space like fleeting fireflies.


"You know," Bruce began calmly, his voice unshaken even amidst the storm of strikes. "I figured someone was after me. But I didn’t expect it to be you. Guess what you said back in the lobby wasn’t just talk."


Ozai gritted his teeth, fury mixing with disbelief.


He knew Bruce, at least, he thought he did. The Bruce he remembered was a timid, unremarkable kid who hid behind Sophie’s shadow. A weakling. A joke.


But the man standing before him now wasn’t the same person, it felt like another person completely.


This Bruce was sharp. Skilled. Controlled. Terrifyingly calm.


Every move he made carried lethal intent, but he hadn’t even attacked back yet.


And that made it worse.


Far worse!


It made Ozai feel somehow cornered! It made Ozai feel caged... It was an inexplicable feeling.


Ozai’s slashes grew more frantic, each strike heavier, wilder. He swung downward with both blades, then feinted and swept low for Bruce’s legs.


But Bruce simply stepped aside, his daggers flashing once, parrying both blades cleanly before retreating a step with effortless grace.


Not a scratch on him.


Not a single bead of sweat.


His calm expression, that faint smirk, it wasn’t mockery. It was detachment. The look of a predator who had already figured out his prey’s pattern, and was simply waiting for the right moment to strike.


Ozai’s chest tightened as that realization hit him.


’He’s... not the same man. This can’t be Bruce.’


For the first time since entering the trial, Ozai felt something he hadn’t expected to feel.


Fear.


Bruce tilted his head slightly, the firelight flickering across his face, his eyes cold and calculating.


"Go on," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. "Show me what you’ve got."


That clean, effortless aura, the stillness before a storm, made it clear.


In this battle, only one of them was hunting. And it wasn’t Ozai.


Bruce smiled faintly, that calm, unnerving look still lingering in his eyes as he spoke.


"You know..." His tone was steady, unhurried, almost conversational, even as blades clashed around him. "I knew someone was after me. But for it to actually be you...? With what you said back in the lobby, something suspicious must be going on."


There was no anger in his voice. No irritation. Just quiet certainty, the kind that belonged to someone who already knew how the fight would end.


Ozai didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His mind was burning with frustration and disbelief, his thoughts drowned out by the hiss of his own breath and the rhythm of clashing steel.


SWOOSH-!


SWOOSH-!!


SWOOSH-!!!


SWOOSH-!!!!


His twin swords moved like silver lightning, their arcs elegant and deadly. Every swing carried power enough to cleave through armored beasts.


And yet, Bruce blocked every single one.


Effortlessly.


CLANG-!


CLANG-!!


CLANG-!!!


CLANG-!!!!


The sound echoed through the cave in perfect rhythm, like a grim metronome marking Ozai’s growing desperation. But Bruce’s movements never broke their tranquil flow. His daggers deflected every furious strike with frightening ease, small, precise motions that redirected force without effort.


It wasn’t just skill. It was awareness.


Bruce wasn’t reacting just reacting, He was anticipating every strike.


Ozai’s breathing turned heavy, ragged. ’Damn it...!’


He pushed harder, pouring more strength into each swing. His dual-sword technique was elite, years of training compressed into every movement, but no matter how fast or unpredictable he became, Bruce read him like an open book. Every angle, every feint, every subtle shift in weight, Bruce read them all as if they were written on a page.


Ozai’s heart pounded as disbelief turned to dread. The Bruce he remembered was gone!