Tobe stood face-to-face with Garu in the heart of Sooga Village. His henchmen scurried around him, desperate to assist, but as always, their efforts were pitiful—clumsy, weak, and utterly useless. The villagers had gathered, their eyes fixed on Garu, the rival who overshadowed him.

The battle raged, each strike a clash of skill and vengeance. Tobe fought with ruthless precision, his katana slicing through the air in deadly arcs. Yet, no matter how fiercely he attacked, Garu met him with unwavering calm, countering his every move with effortless grace. It infuriated Tobe. How could Garu, so silent, so unshaken, always remain ahead?

Then it happened. In a swift, unintended strike, Garu’s katana slashed through Tobe’s mask, exposing his face to the entire village.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. The weight of their stares pressed against him like a thousand blades. Tobe’s eyes flared with fury as his hand instinctively shot up to his exposed face, fingers curling into a trembling fist.

“Curse on you, Garu!” he snarled, his voice dripping with venom. “You dare humiliate me like this? In front of everyone?!”

Rage surged through him, drowning out all reason. He could feel their whispers, their judgment, their amusement. His humiliation burned hotter than fire. With reckless abandon, he lunged, his every fiber consumed by the need for revenge. His katana gleamed under the village lanterns, each step fueled by hatred and wounded pride.

“I’ll make you regret this day, Garu! You will know defeat and disgrace!”