Half Man, Half Machine!

A shadowy figure emerged silently from the alley ahead, his movements deliberate and measured. He was tall, clad in a flowing black robe that seemed to absorb the dim light around him. A bronze mask obscured his face, its expressionless surface giving him an eerie, almost otherworldly appearance. The robe covered him completely, rigid and impenetrable, leaving no part of him exposed.

Harry stood his ground, his sharp eyes narrowing as he observed the figure. The stillness in the air felt suffocating, yet he didn't waver. His body was relaxed, but his muscles were coiled, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.

"Someone from the Black Council?" he asked, his tone calm but firm. Though phrased as a question, there was no doubt in his voice. Harry already knew the answer.

The figure in front of him remained silent for a moment, his presence cold and unyielding. Harry's gaze remained locked on him, his mind racing. Over time, he'd encountered several members of the infamous Black Council, the shadowy organization that seemed to manipulate events from the darkness. First, there was Stone Semi, then the hunter, and even the mysterious girl in the ruins. Each encounter had left Harry with scars, but also a deeper understanding of their unique, oppressive aura.

This man radiated the same energy, that same suffocating sense of control. There was no mistaking it.

Finally, the figure spoke, his voice low and metallic, distorted as though filtered through the mask. "Zack, deputy headmaster of the Red Bird Dojo," he intoned, the weight of his words cutting through the silence. "I know you. You're the one who disrupted our operation at the ruins."

Harry tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "If you're talking about the ruins incident, then yes, that was me," he said casually. His voice carried a hint of amusement, as if he were recalling an old victory. "Oh, and by the way," he added, his tone growing sharper, "I also killed Stone Samuel. Before he died, he made a point to tell me he was one of yours."

For the first time, a flicker of something crossed the black-robed man's posture; a brief pause, a subtle tension. It was faint, but Harry caught it immediately.

The figure's mask tilted slightly, as if considering his next words. "Stone Semi was… expendable," he finally said, dismissing the death as if it were nothing. But his voice betrayed the faintest edge of irritation. "Regardless, you've made an impression. I'll give you two choices."

The figure stepped forward, his presence growing heavier, more oppressive. "Join us, or die."

Harry chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Funny," he said, his voice calm but laced with defiance. "What I hate most is being forced to choose."

Before the words had fully left his lips, there was a sharp 'snick' as Harry unsheathed his long sword in one smooth motion. The blade gleamed faintly, infused with the vibrant energy of his life force, casting an almost ethereal glow in the darkness. Without hesitation, Harry surged forward, his sword slicing through the air with deadly precision.

'Bang!'

The sound of metal clashing rang out, sharp and deafening. The black-robed figure had moved just as quickly, drawing a weapon of his own; a curved, dark blade that seemed to hum with energy. The collision sent sparks flying, the force of their meeting reverberating through the narrow alley.

The two men clashed relentlessly, their movements a blur of speed and precision. Harry's strikes were swift and decisive, each one aimed to exploit any weakness. The robed figure, however, matched him blow for blow, his blade moving with an unnatural grace.

'Boom!'

With each exchange, the alley trembled. Cracks began to form in the ground beneath their feet, and chunks of stone and debris rained down from the walls. The sheer force of their fight threatened to bring the entire alley down around them.

Harry's sharp instincts guided him as he dodged and countered, his movements fluid yet deliberate. He waited for the perfect moment, then suddenly shifted his weight, twisting his body in a way that seemed almost unnatural. His left hand shot forward, his fingers curling into a tight fist.

'Red Bird Fist!'

The punch landed with devastating force, amplified by the raw energy of Harry's life force. The air around him seemed to ripple as the blow connected, striking the robed figure square in the chest. The impact echoed like thunder, sending a shockwave through the alley.

The figure staggered back, his chestplate dented from the sheer power of the blow. For a brief moment, it seemed as though the fight might be over.

But the black-robed man did not fall.

Instead, he straightened, his movements deliberate. Despite the visible damage to his chest, he seemed unfazed. His grip on his blade tightened, and without warning, he surged forward again, attacking with renewed ferocity.

Harry met him head-on, his sword flashing as it intercepted another deadly strike. The alley filled with the sound of clashing metal and the grunts of effort from both fighters. Harry's mind raced as he adjusted his strategy. The man wasn't just skilled, he was relentless, almost inhuman in his endurance.

'What is this guy made of?' Harry thought, his brow furrowing. Despite the damage he had inflicted, the robed figure fought as if he felt no pain.

But Harry wasn't about to back down. His movements grew sharper, his strikes more precise. Every step, every swing, every punch carried the weight of his training, the essence of the Red Bird Dojo. He wouldn't stop until this opponent was defeated.

As the fight raged on, the air around them grew heavier, thick with the intensity of their battle. Neither man showed any signs of slowing, and the alley, once silent and forgotten, now bore witness to a clash of titans.

Harry's sharp eyes flickered with surprise as the black-robed man rose again, battered but seemingly unfazed. Despite the significant injuries he had inflicted, the man's movements remained fluid, his stance firm. It was as if pain itself didn't exist for him.

'How is he still standing?' Harry thought. But the revelation didn't rattle him, it only deepened his determination. The man in front of him had underestimated him, and that arrogance was about to cost him dearly. The ritual enhancements and the body-strengthening potions Harry had consumed had propelled his abilities far beyond what they once were. His power now rivaled, if not exceeded, the top dojo master fighters like Steven.

Harry smirked slightly. "Looks like you miscalculated," he muttered under his breath.

'Bang!'

With a deafening crack, Harry's next strike sent the robed man flying, his body crashing against the far wall like a ragdoll. The impact echoed through the alley, shaking the surrounding structures. Blood splattered across the ground as chunks of flesh and… metal? Harry's keen eyes caught the strange glint of metallic fragments embedded in the man's torn flesh.

His expression shifted to one of curiosity. "So that's your secret…" he murmured.

The man's body, now visible in the dim light, revealed a horrifying truth. Beneath his mangled flesh, intricate layers of metal and machinery were fused into his very being. The transformation was grotesque, a melding of man and machine that left little humanity intact. No wonder he could keep fighting, his body wasn't entirely organic anymore. Injuries that would cripple a normal person were mere inconveniences to him.

Harry's grip on his sword tightened. "I didn't think technology like this existed here," he muttered, his voice tinged with both amazement and disgust. "But let's see if even a machine can survive without its head."

Without wasting a moment, Harry lunged forward, his sword glinting as it cut through the air with precision. This time, his strike was aimed directly at the man's head.

'Bang!'

Before the blade could connect, a sudden explosion erupted. A sharp, deafening sound tore through the alley, sending shockwaves in every direction. Harry instinctively leapt back, his body moving fluidly to avoid the blast. Smoke billowed out, thick and suffocating, blanketing the entire area.

"A smoke bomb?" Harry muttered, his brow furrowing. He scanned the dense haze, his senses heightened. Even without sight, he could feel the vibrations in the air, sense the subtle shifts in energy. A fighter of his caliber didn't need his eyes to track an enemy. With calculated precision, he stepped into the smoke, ready to finish the job.

But when the smoke finally began to dissipate, the alley was empty. The robed man had vanished.

Harry stood still, his sword lowered but his mind sharp. 'So he escaped… for now.'

---

Far from the battlefield, the black-robed man staggered into a sprawling manor, his body a ruin of flesh and metal. Blood dripped from the torn remnants of his body, pooling on the pristine marble floor beneath him. Each step he took was labored, his breathing shallow and ragged. By the time he crossed the threshold, he collapsed to his knees, unable to carry himself any further.

"Howard, you look absolutely pitiful," a voice called out, smooth and mocking.

From the shadows of the manor, a young man in a flowing, elegant robe stepped forward. His features were sharp and striking, his confidence radiating as he studied the battered man on the floor. A faint smile tugged at his lips. "It seems you've had a rough day," he added, his tone dripping with amusement.

Howard, still on his knees, slowly raised his head. With trembling hands, he removed his bronze mask, revealing a face that could scarcely be called human. Deep scars ran jagged across his skin, and metallic implants gleamed under the dim light. His expression was grim as he locked eyes with the robed man.

"The intelligence was wrong," Howard said, his voice hoarse but steady. "That man… Zack… he's far stronger than we anticipated. Far stronger than me."

The young man's smirk faltered for a moment, his brow furrowing. "Stronger than you?" he asked, skepticism creeping into his tone. "I thought you were one of our best. How could one man give you this much trouble?"

Howard shook his head, his lips curling into a bitter smile. "You don't understand. This isn't just about strength. He's beyond anything we've faced before. His power, it's on a different level. If you want to take him down, you'll need at least three dojo master fighters working together."

"Three?" the young man repeated, his confident facade cracking slightly. "Surely you're exaggerating."

"I'm not," Howard replied, his tone deadly serious. He motioned for a servant to approach, allowing them to begin treating his wounds. Blood trickled from the gashes in his body, but his expression remained firm. "Even three might not be enough. If they want to ensure victory, they'll need to kill him outright. Capturing him… that's a gamble."

The young man's face darkened, his earlier amusement replaced with unease. "Is he really that dangerous?"

"Yes." Howard winced as the servant tightened a bandage around his torso. "I've fought many powerful fighters in my time, but this man… he's different. His strength is raw, refined, and terrifying. Even Steven wouldn't stand a chance against him."

The room fell silent as the weight of Howard's words settled over them. The young man turned away, his mind racing. If what Howard said was true, then Harry wasn't just a threat, he was a force of nature, one that could dismantle everything they had planned.

"We underestimated him," Howard said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "And now, he'll be hunting us."