John felt the oppressive chill of the lab creep under his skin as the four Nikkes advanced, their twisted, monstrous forms moving with an unnatural precision that sent a wave of nausea through him. Each step they took was a grotesque mockery of life—elongated limbs twitching, twisted joints cracking with every motion. It was as if the experiments that had ravaged their bodies were still ongoing, flesh caught somewhere between human and machine. A shiver ran down his spine, a primal fear coiling in the pit of his stomach. Despite that, his heart pounded with something darker, more dangerous.
This was the kind of fight that thrilled him. Something he shouldn't enjoy.
The white-haired Nikke moved first, her eyes like pale blue voids that gleamed faintly in the dim, sterile light. Her body was tall, far too still, as if her movements weren't hers but controlled by some unseen force. Every motion was calculated, deliberate, like a predator toying with its prey. The quiet confidence in her demeanor spoke of certainty, as if she had already decided how this would end, and it wasn't in John's favor. The longer he looked at her, the more wrong she felt—like staring into something that had forgotten what it was supposed to be.
John's gaze flicked to the others, his chest tightening as he took in their malformed bodies. A blonde Nikke crouched low, her body contorted like some feral beast barely contained. Green eyes flashed with hunger, impatience, and as she shifted, her limbs moved with a liquid fluidity, as though she wasn't quite walking on the ground at all. The fabric of her clothes, torn and dirty, clung to her gaunt frame, fluttering unnaturally in the still, sterile air. It was as if the lab itself recoiled from her presence, unwilling to touch her.
Behind her loomed a taller Nikke, her body swathed in pulsing, wet brain matter, which writhed across her scalp like something alive, something that shouldn't be there. The rhythm of its pulsations matched an invisible beat, sick and hypnotic. Her face was a blank mask of emotionless detachment, as if all traces of humanity had been drained from her long ago. Even without visible eyes, John could feel her gaze—cold and hollow—piercing through him like a marionette's strings, waiting to tighten, waiting to pull him apart.
The last one—short and muscular, with cropped blue hair—moved like a machine designed to destroy. Her body was a coiled spring of raw power, and her gaze… her eyes were far too sharp, far too cold. They studied him, dissected him like a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Each movement she made was tight, precise, as if she could crush him without breaking a sweat. The air around her felt heavier, suffocating.
A slow grin tugged at the corners of John's lips, the fear that gnawed at him twisting into a sick thrill. The lab felt claustrophobic now, the shadows closing in, the sterile walls crawling with the remnants of violence. He shouldn't be enjoying this. But he was.
This was going to be a brutal fight.
And something about that made him feel alive.
Before he could even take a breath, the white-haired Nikke moved. Her hand flickered toward him, and John instinctively stepped back, raising his guard. But nothing came. The air around her shimmered, warping as if space itself was bending to her will. His stomach dropped—she had the ability to manipulate space. He knew what that meant: Satoru Gojo's powers. He was in serious trouble.
She lunged. John twisted, catching her wrist mid-air, but the space around her distorted, and suddenly her arm seemed to draw him in. He grunted, shoving her back, and she staggered, her face emotionless despite the misstep.
The blonde Nikke came next, a blur of speed. John barely had time to parry her first strike, her fist whistling past his ear. His heart raced, a thrill coursing through his veins. She was fast. Too fast. He caught her by the shoulder, spun her away, but she didn't stumble. Instead, she slid across the slick floor as if there was no friction at all, gliding effortlessly back into position.
"Frictionless," John muttered, his mind whirling. The blonde was controlling the environment, turning it into her personal slipstream. His movements would be slow and clumsy here, while she'd have the advantage. His pulse quickened. This was going to be fun.
But there was no time to think. The tall Nikke, with the writhing brain matter, flicked her wrist, and John felt something tighten around his arm. Invisible threads. He yanked hard, but the spectral cords held firm, pulling him off-balance. Panic flared in his chest for a brief moment—he couldn't see the threads, couldn't tell where they were coming from. The pressure tightened, threatening to trap him.
"Not yet," he thought, gritting his teeth. With a quick twist of his body, he used the momentum to slam his foot into her chest. The impact wasn't much, but it was enough to make her threads loosen. He broke free, heart hammering.
He barely had time to breathe before the short blue-haired Nikke charged in. She moved like a wrecking ball, her fists flying toward him in rapid succession. John ducked under one punch, barely blocking the next, but her sheer strength sent shockwaves through his arm. She grinned, eyes gleaming with a dangerous energy.
John's breath was coming fast now, his muscles already burning from the constant pressure. They weren't giving him any room to move, their attacks synchronized like a pack of wolves. It was exhilarating—and terrifying.
The white-haired Nikke's eyes glowed faintly as she stepped forward again, and the air between them shifted. John felt it instantly—his body being dragged toward her by an invisible force. He planted his feet, trying to resist, but the pull was too strong. He skidded forward, barely managing to twist his body as he was yanked toward her, just in time to avoid her follow-up strike. Her fist slammed into the ground with bone-jarring force, sending cracks spider-webbing across the floor.
John gasped for breath, adrenaline coursing through him. Every nerve in his body was screaming, but his mind raced. He had to think, had to figure out a way to break their rhythm.
Suddenly, his feet slipped out from under him. The ground—smooth, frictionless again. The blonde Nikke's ability. John's heart raced as he struggled to get back up, his limbs sliding uselessly across the slick surface. She was on him in an instant, moving like a shadow, her movements almost lazy in their grace.
He cursed under his breath and kicked off the wall, expecting the frictionless effect to slow him, but instead felt his boots grip solidly. He propelled himself out of the frictionless zone, shooting forward, heart pounding in his ears, just as the short Nikke and the tall one slammed their heels into the spot he had just vacated. The ground shattered under the force of their missed attacks.
John rolled to his feet, barely managing to gain some distance. His body screamed in protest, but he couldn't stop now. His breath came in ragged gasps, every muscle in his body tensed and burning. He could feel the fear gnawing at him, the sense that he was losing ground. But alongside it, there was a thrill—this was a real fight.
The white-haired Nikke's eyes gleamed with frustration now. Her control over space flickered, her Infinity imperfect. John saw it. He felt the cursed energy waver. She wasn't invincible. She wasn't Gojo.
"Come on," he growled, more to himself than to them. His mind raced through strategies as they closed in again, their cursed techniques overlapping, making it impossible for him to take them on one at a time.
The tall Nikke flicked her fingers, and spectral threads shot toward him again. John spun out of the way, but the short Nikke was already there, a fist aimed at his ribs. He blocked, his arm vibrating from the impact, and retaliated with a sharp elbow to her side. She grunted, but her eyes gleamed with excitement, as if she was enjoying this as much as he was.
The blonde Nikke moved in again, her body a blur. John ducked under her punch, but she slid effortlessly past him, her movements frictionless, her feet barely touching the ground. He had to think of something—fast.
As she swept in for another strike, John felt a sudden shift in the air. The white-haired Nikke was using her space manipulation again. He braced himself, but this time, instead of trying to resist, he let the pull drag him forward, using the momentum to slam his fist into her chest. Her control over infinity seemed to be limited.
She gasped, staggering back, her control over her cursed energy flickering once more. John didn't hesitate. He followed through with a knee to her gut, sending her crashing into the ground. His heart raced with exhilaration.
But the others weren't letting up. The tall Nikke's threads whipped toward him again, and the short one closed in with a barrage of kicks. John twisted, barely avoiding the strikes, but one of the threads wrapped around his ankle, yanking him off-balance. He hit the ground hard, gasping for air.
Pain flared through his body, but there was no time to stop. The blonde Nikke was already there, her eyes wild with excitement, her fist aiming for his head. John rolled out of the way, using the frictionless surface to his advantage. He slid across the slick floor, narrowly dodging another attack from the short Nikke, her foot crashing into the ground where his head had been moments before.
John's breath came in ragged gasps, his body aching, his mind racing. He was outnumbered, outmatched—but that only made him want to fight harder. The fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of his consciousness, but it was drowned out by the rush of adrenaline.
The white-haired Nikke's eyes glowed once more, and John felt the familiar tug of her cursed technique pulling him toward her. But this time, he was ready. He grinned through the pain, letting the force yank him forward—only to twist at the last second, driving his fist into her side again.
She staggered, gasping, and John used the opening to run across the wall. The blond tried to make the wall beneath his feet frictionless, but her cursed energy wouldn't stick. He launched himself toward the others. He wasn't done yet.
Not by a long shot.
John's body ached with every movement. He had landed a few solid blows, but they weren't enough to give him any real breathing room. The Nikkes moved like a well-oiled machine, their attacks perfectly synchronized, each of them relentless and vicious. He needed to create some space—just long enough to catch his breath and reassess.
The lab around him was a maze of metal and glass—cold, sterile, but full of potential. His eyes flicked to a row of steel tables covered in equipment, broken test tubes glittering on the ground, and the reinforced walls that boxed them in. If he could use the environment to his advantage, maybe he could slow them down, or at least buy himself a moment.
The blonde Nikke lunged again, her speed blinding. John barely had time to react as she closed in, her fist a blur aimed at his face. He twisted out of the way, feeling the rush of air as her strike missed by inches. His mind raced. They were too fast, too coordinated. But her speed came with one weakness—She had to rely on momentum.
As the short Nikke followed up with a brutal kick aimed at his ribs, John ducked and kicked off the nearest wall, using it to vault himself over her strike. His body moved on instinct, propelled by sheer adrenaline. He landed on a metal table, his boots skidding slightly across the surface as the blonde Nikke's frictionless curse still lingered in the area.
The others were right on him. He could see the white-haired Nikke's cold, calculating eyes tracking his every move, her blue eyes focused, her hand already glowing as she prepared to manipulate the space around him again.
He slammed his foot against the table, sending a shower of shattered glass and equipment toward the Nikkes. It wouldn't hurt them, but it was enough to disrupt their momentum. The blonde Nikke tried to a stop, her feet slamming into the ground in a wasted attempt to slow herself across the frictionless ground, while the tall one flicked her wrist, her spectral threads slicing through the air to clear the debris.
John's muscles burned as he launched himself across the room again, vaulting over another table and kicking off the wall to propel himself faster. He could feel the Nikkes closing in, their speed matching his, but he had a plan now—he just needed to keep moving.
His feet barely touched the ground as he sprinted toward the far end of the lab, his body a blur of motion. The air around him whipped past at an insane speed, the lab's sterile walls becoming streaks of color as they moved at mach speeds. He could feel the pressure in his chest, the adrenaline surging through his veins as he pushed himself harder, faster.
Behind him, he heard the sound of shattering glass and metal as the Nikkes tore through the lab in pursuit. He glanced back and saw them—four blurs of motion, each moving at mach speeds, their cursed techniques crackling in the air as they closed the distance between them. The white-haired Nikke's eyes were locked on him, her hand glowing with the familiar distortion of her space-warping technique.
John grinned despite himself. This was insane. His heart pounded with a mix of fear and exhilaration as he realized just how fast they were moving. Every second felt like it was stretched thin, the world blurring around him as they moved at speeds most people couldn't even comprehend. This wasn't just a fight—it was a chase through hell.
As he approached the far wall, he spotted a series of brain matter tendrils acting as scaffolding near the ceiling, along with a row of hanging lights. Perfect. He kicked off the floor, launching himself upward just as the white-haired Nikke's hand flickered. The space around him distorted, pulling him backward with terrifying force. John gritted his teeth, pushing against the pull with every ounce of strength he had. He slammed his hand against the flesh scaffolding, using it as an anchor to keep himself from being yanked back into her grasp.
The Nikkes were relentless. The tall one flicked her fingers, and John saw the faint shimmer of spectral threads darting toward him, but he swung upward, using the momentum to flip himself onto the scaffolding. The threads missed him by inches, slicing through the air where his legs had been moments before.
"Close, but not close enough," John muttered, his breath ragged.
From his elevated position, he had a brief moment to survey the room. The Nikkes were already adjusting their positions, moving with terrifying speed to cut off his escape routes. The blonde Nikke was below, her body gliding effortlessly across the floor, her eyes locked on him like a predator tracking prey. The short blue-haired Nikke was scaling the wall, her movements a blur as she prepared to leap toward him. The tall Nikke's threads were already in motion, slicing through the air, seeking to trap him.
But John wasn't going to wait around. He kicked off the scaffolding onto the roof, the frictionless cursed technique failing to act on the walls and ceiling he shot across the room like a bullet. The air screamed in his ears as he moved, dodging the spectral threads and sliding past the blonde's grasp. His body moved on instinct now—every twist, every dodge perfectly timed to avoid their strikes.
The white-haired Nikke narrowed her eyes, her frustration evident as she raised her hand again. John felt the pull of her space manipulation once more, but this time, he was ready. He angled his body mid-air, using the pull to slingshot himself in the opposite direction, right toward the far wall. His body hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud, but he rolled to his feet, keeping his momentum.
The lab was too small. He needed to get out of this confined space before they boxed him in completely. His eyes darted to the reinforced door on the left side of the room—the exit.
John grinned, adrenaline surging through him as he sprinted for the door, his body a blur. The Nikkes were right behind him, but he had the advantage now. He kicked off the ground, using the lack of friction to propel himself faster than he ever had before. The air warped and burst around him, his speed reaching the threshold of mach 2.
With a burst of force, he slammed into the door, breaking it off its hinges as he exploded into the hallway beyond. The Nikkes followed, crashing through the shattered door frame with terrifying speed. Their cursed techniques crackled in the air as they closed the gap, but John had bought himself a few precious seconds.
The hallway stretched out before him, narrow and filled with more machinery and equipment. Perfect for what he needed. John darted forward, weaving between the obstacles, his mind racing. If he could just keep them off balance for a little longer…
He spotted a stack of heavy metal crates up ahead. With a sharp twist of his body, he kicked the crates as he passed, sending them toppling behind him. The sound of crashing metal filled the hallway as the crates blocked the Nikkes' path, slowing them down for a moment.
John's breath came in ragged gasps as he pushed himself harder, faster. He could hear them closing in, their footsteps a rapid staccato as they moved at impossible speeds. His muscles screamed in protest, but he didn't slow down. He couldn't.
As he rounded a corner, John spotted his opportunity—a large, reinforced window overlooking a large interior space within the facility. Without hesitating, he threw himself toward it, his body moving at mach speeds. The glass shattered under the force of his impact, and for a brief, exhilarating moment, John was free—soaring through the air of the lab, the cold wind biting at his skin as he plummeted toward the ground below.
The Nikkes burst through the broken window behind him, their forms a blur as they followed him into the dark. John could feel the air pressure shift around him as the white-haired Nikke activated her space manipulation again, trying to pull him back. But he was too fast now, his body already accelerating toward the ground at breakneck speeds.
With a final burst of energy, John twisted mid-air, kicking off a nearby wall and launching himself forward. The Nikkes were relentless, closing the distance between them, but for the first time in this fight, he felt a flicker of hope.
John's boots slammed into the floor as he bolted down another narrow corridor, the wind screaming in his ears from the sheer speed. The lights above blurred into streaks, the machinery and walls whipping past him in a haze. His heart pounded, his muscles burning, but the rush of adrenaline drowned out the exhaustion.
His mind raced. He couldn't keep this up forever. He had already felt the strain of their cursed techniques working together, grinding him down. But now he was seeing patterns. The white-haired Nikke distorted space around her in short bursts, and the blonde—her frictionless domain—was only affecting the floor.
It clicked.
His feet skidded on the ground as he barely managed a turn, the frictionless curse kicking in, making it hard to find purchase. That was it. The blonde's power only affected the ground. If he wasn't touching it, he could move freely—no more sliding, no more struggling to stop himself. And if he timed it just right…
He slammed his feet into the floor, propelling himself forward with another burst of speed.
Behind him, the blonde Nikke's eyes gleamed, her lips curling into a grin. She was about to use her cursed technique again. John could feel the sudden shift in the air, the sensation of the ground losing its grip. His feet began to slip, sliding uncontrollably as the frictionless field took hold.
John grinned back. This was what he was waiting for.
The moment the floor lost its grip, John threw himself upward, launching his body toward the ceiling with every ounce of strength he had. The ceiling was rough, industrial, but solid—he could get a grip.
His fingers found purchase on a metal beam, and he used the momentum to swing his legs forward, changing his momentum so now that he was facing the way he came. The air around him shimmered as he forced as much cursed energy into his fist, forgoein precision, while she sped forward on the ground, unaware of the trap he had set.
Her green eyes widened in shock as she felt the sudden change in energy—a flicker of realization crossed her face, but it was too late. John shot down from the ceiling like a missile, his body twisting mid-air as he launched himself directly toward her. Time seemed to slow, the world blurring into slow motion as his body sliced through the air.
The moment her eyes met his, John could feel her panic. Her cursed technique had made it impossible for her to stop, to change direction, and she had no idea he would strike from above.
His breath slowed, heart pounding in his chest, as cursed energy surged through him, crackling beneath his skin, the hum of power ready to be unleashed. Time seemed to stretch, the world narrowing to a pinpoint as he spotted his opening.
His fist clenched.
Now.
With every ounce of strength, he twisted his body, fist cutting through the air with devastating precision. The moment his knuckles made contact with her neck, the air around them detonated in a pulse of cursed energy.
CRACK.
In an instant, the world erupted into a maelstrom of black lightning and sparks. Reality seemed to tear itself apart at the point of impact—space compressing, warping, as John's cursed energy collided with hers. The shockwave rippled through the air, tearing through the ground beneath them as the Black Flash ignited.
It was like nothing John had ever felt before. His body buzzed with raw power, his senses alive with the sharp, electric thrill of perfection. Black sparks arced out from his fist, crackling like a storm unleashed. For a brief moment, the cursed energy around him hummed with perfect harmony—his energy and the universe aligning in a single, euphoric strike.
His breath caught in his throat as the thrill of the Black Flash overtook him, lightning dancing around his arm as the blonde Nikke's body jerked violently. The force of the blow snapped her neck with a sickening crack, her head twisting at an unnatural angle as her lifeless body was launched backward. Blood sprayed into the air, the arc of crimson illuminated by the black lightning still rippling from his hand.
The ground beneath him shattered, cracks spider-webbing out from the point of impact. The sheer force of the Black Flash sent her body skidding across the floor, smashing into the far wall with a dull, lifeless thud. The frictionless domain around them flickered and died, the cursed energy evaporating into the air.
John stood still, fist still raised, black sparks fading into the air around him. His heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline surging through his veins, but the feeling of the Black Flash lingered. It was like a high—a rush of perfection that left him breathless and wanting more. His body buzzed with the afterglow, the power coursing through him, making everything seem sharper, clearer.
He had landed a Black Flash.
And it felt like touching the edge of the universe.
The blonde Nikke's body lay crumpled at the far end of the room, blood pooling beneath her. The thrill of the kill was tempered only by the realization that this was far from over.
John's hand lowered slowly, his breath still ragged, his mind buzzing with the aftershock. The black lightning danced around him, the remnants of the Black Flash fading into the air.
But he couldn't celebrate. Not yet.
John landed in a crouch, his breath ragged, blood dripping from his hands. For a moment, there was silence, the other Nikkes frozen in place as they registered what had just happened. John's pulse pounded in his ears.
From across the room, the white-haired Nikke stepped forward, her icy blue eyes locking onto him. The space around her shimmered with the telltale distortion of her cursed technique—Infinity. She was preparing for her next move, her expression cold and unshaken by the destruction around her.
John grinned, his blood still singing from the Black Flash. The thrill of the fight coursed through him, the euphoria still fresh in his mind.
"Alright," he muttered to himself, eyes narrowing. "Let's see if you're ready for this."
The fight was far from over, but for the first time, John felt that surge of invincibility that came with the perfect strike.
John stood in the center of the wrecked lab, blood dripping from his fist, pooling on the cracked floor beneath him. His breaths came in ragged bursts, his knuckles throbbing from the impact of his last strike. The three remaining Nikkes fanned out, their twisted bodies moving with an eerie, predatory grace. Their eyes locked onto him, calculating, waiting for the next move.
The white-haired Nikke's cold blue eyes gleamed, space warping subtly around her, while the tall Nikke's spectral threads writhed in the air, ready to ensnare him. The short blue-haired Nikke flickered in and out of view, her mirages blending with the shadows.
For a moment, everything was still—until the distant sound of rumbling footsteps echoed through the corridor. The heavy thrum of Absolute's approach. Eunhwa's voice, distorted but growing clearer, rang out in the distance, cutting through the oppressive tension in the air. Reinforcements.