Due to the change in plans and the assassin taking an approach he hadn't anticipated, Christian, as he made his way to the new interception point, began to feel that this could be an opportunity.
If he could catch her off guard and ram into her with the car, no, crash into her outright, then perhaps he could end it all without the need for a fight.
At this moment, all Christian cared about was the result. The methods? They didn't matter in the slightest, at least not now. Perhaps, if the gap in strength was as vast as the sky and earth, he might have given it some thought. But for now, his only concern was making sure he didn't mistakenly target the wrong person.
As the distance between them grew shorter and shorter, and the critical moment drew near, Christian switched off the car's headlights, hoping to delay her awareness of his approach by a few precious seconds. He calculated the exact time she would reach the collision point by the speed she is currently moving in and, with determination burning in his eyes, slammed his foot down on the gas pedal with all his might.
He approached from a turn on the side road, making timing the most critical factor. So, when he finally caught sight of the faint glow of her motorcycle's headlights, a wave of nervousness crept over him, though he couldn't pinpoint whether it was from the anticipation of possibly killing her or the fear of failing entirely.
With every ounce of focus, Christian drove straight toward her, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as the car surged forward. The assassin, however, even if noticing a little late, reacted with startling reflexes, executing motorcycle maneuvers that seemed almost inhuman.
Despite her skill, she couldn't completely avoid him though, and his car clipped the side of the motorcycle. The impact sent it skidding, while his car jolted violently, a tremor running through his body.
"Fuck," Christian cursed through gritted teeth involuntarily. Frustrated by the narrow miss, he gripped the wheel tightly, his eyes fixed on her as she was thrown from the bike. She twisted midair in a desperate, acrobatic attempt to soften the fall, but still hit the ground hard. Scrapes and possibly injuries marked her body as she tumbled across the pavement. It wasn't the crushing blow he had aimed for, but at least it was a start.
Even when he knew things weren't going to be as easy as he had hoped, knowing the upper hand was still his, Christian didn't hesitate.
He stepped out of the car, sprinted toward her, and threw a knife in her direction. She narrowly dodged, her movements swift despite the fall, and without missing a beat, he threw another one.
He was lucky enough to hit her arm this time, though.
Or so he thought. But, the metallic collision that rang out told him otherwise, it still wasn't a hit.
Christian, holding the last knife in his hand, finally reached the assassin and stabbed with it.
She met his knife with one of her own, and they began exchanging blows.
The assassin, a woman with black hair tied in a ponytail and now in disheveled appearance, had her dead black eyes glint slightly, and her expression morphed into surprise at first when she looked at the person who ambushed her, only to find that he was actually her target.
Despite the surprise, when she saw him, she didn't panic, doing him a favor and creating an opening. She also didn't bother saying anything and simply tried to finish her mission, as usual, even though it now seemed impossible.
Christian tried to win their first entanglement with strength, but the assassin woman responded with skill and her apparent prosthetic arm, which he thought he had struck at first.
Still, at least he was lucky that the bag, likely holding some guns or the like, had been blown some distance away, was what he thought.
As their fight continued, Christian, who had already discarded the knife and was now fighting bare-handed, arrived at a realization.
He was actually more skilled than her in hand-to-hand combat, and in terms of physical strength, he was also stronger. But strangely, aside from a few punches he managed to land here and there, none of which were fatal or decisive, there was nothing more.
She was closing the gap, bridging the difference in their specs with experience and the prosthetic arm, somehow.
But more than being bothered by that, as their fight continued, Christian grew increasingly afraid that someone would arrive, complicating the situation even further.
So, reaching this point, he thought it might actually be time to use the unassigned points.
But feeling stubborn, and seeing it as a waste to use them after finally obtaining an essence technique that could help raise his strength, he couldn't help but hesitate.
And that hesitation, that slight distraction, affected the battle, as the assassin, seemingly waiting for this exact moment, finally drew a pistol from her waist. How he hadn't noticed the weapon earlier, he couldn't quite understand, but there it was, now in her hand, the cold metal gleaming under the dim light.
Even then, now that he was finally in a dangerous situation, his skill, Danger Awareness, began to play its part for the first time since the start of the battle.
Apart from the danger signals he sensed, he felt a slight surge of strength. More importantly, he realized his hand-to-hand combat skills, once sluggish due to inexperience, now flowed more smoothly, with his calmer head.
He felt that he could finally deliver the results expected of him.
Dodging the bullet's path before it even left the pistol, Christian surged forward, grappling her prosthetic arm and, in a swift, unprecedented move, broke it.
Seeing her reaction to the injury, what struck Christian most was how she fought through the pain, continuing with just one arm as if nothing had changed.