CHAPTER 114: CONFLICT AND THE INTRUDER
The basement gym began to fill.
Nearly two hundred spectators crowded around the makeshift concrete ring, their voices rising in a fever pitch as they discussed the odds and the corporate stakes. The air was a thick, humid cocktail of cheap cologne and anticipation.
In a corner near the entrance, Ren Shiroki stood with Furumi, Nozomi, and the rest of his squad, waiting for the first bell.
Ren pulled off his shirt and shoes, beginning his warm-up in the open.
Nozomi crossed her arms, tilting her head toward the stairs. "Ren-kun, there are private locker rooms available. Wouldn't it be better to focus in silence?"
"No need," Ren said, bouncing on his toes and rolling his wrists. " I like the heat. The noise keeps my 'Might' awake."
Nozomi nodded, watching the way his muscles rippled and snapped into position. Even as an elite fighter herself, she found his level of focus unsettling. He was zoning out the entire crowd as if they were made of mist.
"It's the Brain," An Sakurai, the underground doctor, whispered with a manic grin.
"Even if I can't cut him open today, I'll be running a full diagnostic at the Hub soon. Nozomi-chan tells me you have other 'Interesting Specimens' on your roster? I can't wait to see them all!"
Nozomi sighed, looking at her childhood friend. "Oi, An. Just try to stay out of jail, okay?"
The Kengan Association Referee stepped into the ring.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WELCOME TO TONIGHT'S MAIN EVENT!"
The Referee waved his hands, and the two participants for the first match stepped out from opposite corners.
In the red corner stood Seishu Akoya, representing Wakasa Life Insurance. He wore standard fighting shorts and a white karategi top. He looked like a statue carved from cold, grey stone.
In the blue corner was a lean, wiry Russian wearing only shorts. He was the representative for Hozan Market.
"Whoa... both of them are famous," Hana Mitani noted, standing on her tiptoes to see. "The Russian is Ivan Karaev. He's a rising star in the kickboxing circuit."
"They call him 'The Reaper's Scythe.' Word is his high-kicks can snap a concrete pillar."
Hana turned to Nozomi with a smile. "And the other one is practically family. It's a shame Ichika is working overtime today; she'd love to see this."
"She told me that during her days at the academy, she had immense respect for a senior officer in the Riot Squad. A man of absolute order. That has to be him... Akoya Seishu."
Hana clapped her hands. "A respected senior officer versus a legendary kickboxer! This is going to be a spectacular technical exchange!"
Nozomi's brow furrowed. "Spectacular?"
"Eh?" Hana blinked.
Nozomi didn't look excited. She looked cold. "That 'Senior Officer' is a monster, Hana. His power level is several magnitudes higher than the Russian's."
Nozomi felt a cold sweat prickling her neck. Her martial instincts were screaming. "That guy is a void. I can't see the bottom of his 'Might.'"
The Referee raised his hand. "READY... FIGHT!"
The match began, but it didn't look like a struggle.
Akoya didn't lunge. He settled into a bizarre, rigid defensive stance. His right fist was chambered at his waist like a piston. His left arm was raised vertically, his fist pointed at the ceiling.
It was a guard that looked like a riot shield and a nightstick.
"Taiho-jutsu (Arrest Arts)," Nozomi whispered. "It's a system developed by the police for subduing and restraining high-level threats. It blends Karate, Kendo, and Jujutsu into a specialized form of state-level violence."
"But..." Nozomi looked confused. "The gap is massive. Why is he only defending? He could have ended this in three seconds."
In the ring, Ivan Karaev didn't hesitate. He launched a barrage of high-line roundhouse kicks, each one carrying enough force to decapitate a normal man.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
The sounds of impact were heavy, but Akoya's left arm didn't move an inch. He received every kick on his forearm as if he were made of reinforced steel.
"He's not just blocking," Ren noted from the side, his eyes sharpening. "He's Waiting."
"Haha! Good eye, little girl!"
Heihachi Furumi, the Chairman of Furumi Pharmaceuticals, had overheard Nozomi's commentary. He let out a chuckle.
"It's your first time seeing the Executioner, isn't it? Since we aren't rivals tonight, I'll give you a hint."
"My own fighter—the Wild Tiger—told me about the rumors surrounding Akoya Seishu."
"They say that man has a 'Killing Impulse' so strong he can barely control it. In a normal fight, he'd be a spree killer."
"So, to win 'Correctly' in the Association, he uses a specialized Internal Rhythm. He forces himself to defend until his logic breaks, and then... he 'Executes' the target."
As Furumi spoke, the "Order" in the ring shattered.
Akoya's expression, previously a blank mask, twisted into a look of jagged, bloodshot malice. His breathing turned into a low-frequency hiss.
ZIP!
Before Ivan could chamber his next kick, Akoya lunged. He didn't use a technique. He simply tackled the Russian, driving him into the concrete floor. He pinned the man's throat with his left forearm and began raining hammer-fists down with his right.
BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!
In a heartbeat, Ivan's face was a ruin of blood and broken bone. He stopped struggling almost instantly, but Akoya didn't stop. He was no longer fighting a match; he was "Cleansing" a criminal.
The Referee frantically blew his whistle and dove in, grabbing Akoya's arm.
"MATCH IS DECIDED! STOP! CEASE ALL ACTION!"
Akoya finally stopped. He rose slowly, his white gi soaked in the Russian's blood. He ignored the medics rushing into the ring and walked to the edge of the platform.
He locked his icy, dead eyes on Ren Shiroki.
"I can smell it on you," Akoya whispered, his voice a chilling monotone. "You surround yourself with the 'Guilty.' You smell of the Underworld."
Akoya raised a blood-stained hand, settling back into his shield-guard. "In the name of Justice... I will execute you next."
"Wait!"
Shunsuka Hiyama, the CEO of Wakasa Life, hurried over to Akoya, grabbing his arm to lead him away. She looked at Ren with a mix of fear and professional curiosity.
Akoya shook her off, his gaze never leaving Ren. "Hiyama. Arrange a match with the Soul Combat Hub. As soon as possible."
The tension was suffocating. Even Furumi looked uneasy. But before anyone could process the threat, the bell rang for the second match.
Ren Shiroki stepped onto the ring, his eyes still fixed on the retreating Akoya. The "Excitement" he felt from the threat was almost overwhelming.
The Association Referee cleared his throat, trying to bring the crowd back to the schedule.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! IT'S TIME FOR THE SECOND BOUT!"
"CHALLENGER: THE UNBOUND SOUL, REN SHIROKI!"
"VERSUS: THE MASTER OF THE EXTREME WILL FIST... HONG XIAO-HU!"
"Wait... where is Hong-kun?" The Referee blinked, looking around.
Furumi frowned. "He was supposed to be in the warm-up room. Tonegawa, check the back!"
Suddenly, a sound echoed from the dark service tunnel leading to the locker rooms.
Step... step... step...
A tall Westerner with shaggy blonde hair walked into the light. The left side of his body was splattered with fresh blood. His eyes were wide and filled with a manic, jittery energy.
Most striking of all were his ears—they were pointed and covered in a strange, black-textured scarring.
The man was dragging a body by the throat. The victim's feet trailed in the dirt, his head lolling to the side, his spine clearly snapped.
It was Hong Xiao-hu.
"Wow," the stranger said, looking at the crowd with a look of mock-surprise. He spotted Furumi in the VIP area.
"Chairman Furumi, right? Your little pet was very energetic."
"He told me he couldn't feel pain. He said fear was a lie. He tried to hit me, so I had to defend myself."
The stranger shrugged, a chilling smirk spreading across his face. He tossed Hong's corpse at Furumi's feet.
"I found a very elegant solution to his problem."
"A dead man doesn't need to feel anything at all."
He turned his gaze toward Ren in the ring and whispered:
"DIE, PUNK."
☆☆☆
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