Every strike was a matter of life and death.
Every strike was thoroughly lethal.
The high-speed battle appeared to onlookers as though veiled in dense clouds and fog, barring them from seeing or hearing anything beyond a blurred shadow moving at high velocity and the incessant sound of sonic booms. But through the eyes of the participants, it was an entirely different scene.
It was a world infinitely slowed down, where everything was decided in the blink of an eye.
In this world, bullets crawled by frame-by-frame, like stills in a film, and punches and kicks were so slow one might mistake them for static images.
In this realm, the only things that operated at normal speed were the actions of the Steel Bee and the longings of the boy and girl.
——I don't want to kill.
The boy's voice, strangling emotion, echoed, speaking in a monotone like a machine yet carrying a tinge of melancholy.
——I know.
