CHAPTER 115: THE CARACAL
Death and injury were no strangers to the Kengan ring, but they were usually the "Accidental" results of two monsters clashing at full power. What was happening now was a different category of horror.
Hong Xiao-hu was dead.
And he hadn't died in a struggle. He had been systematically dismantled by the black-eared stranger, his neck snapped with the casual indifference one might show to a dry twig.
The corpse lay on the concrete, its limbs twitching in a post-mortem neurological storm.
The previously rowdy gym fell into a tomb-like silence. Among the gamblers and thugs were several high-ranking bureaucrats and CEOs. After the initial shock, their analytical minds began to whir.
Seishu Akoya, the "Executioner," narrowed his eyes. He thought of the recent intelligence reports regarding the Secret Service Division and the rise of foreign syndicates. His gaze turned lethal.
In the ring, Ren Shiroki stared at the shaggy blonde man. His consciousness spiraled into Overdrive.
Combining his deep-memory files with the intel he'd gathered from Hikoichi Yagyo's coffee shop a few days ago, Ren identified the intruder.
This was the "Black-Eared Demon," a top-tier enforcer and confidante to the Leader of IDEAL. According to Kakerou's internal dossiers, this man possessed the tactical intellect of a genius like Madarame Baku and the physical "Might" of a first-line Kengan fighter. He was one of the most dangerous invaders currently on Japanese soil.
The man pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and slowly wiped the blood from his fingers. His eyes scanned the room, moving with a predatory laziness.
He looked at Ren, then at Akoya, and finally settled on the Chairman of Furumi Pharmaceuticals—Heihachi Furumi.
"OH! Furumi-san! We meet again!"
The man laughed, but the sound was sharp and jagged. "My Boss was quite disappointed when you rejected our 'Partnership' proposal. He was so upset he started throwing things! It was very dramatic!"
Whether it was the scent of the fresh corpse or the weight of the man's gaze, Nozomi Tenma and Hana Mitani found themselves drenched in cold sweat. They felt like mice staring into the eyes of a cobra. One wrong move, and their lives would be over in a heartbeat.
"Furumi-san..." Nozomi whispered, her voice trembling.
To her surprise, the short, round Chairman didn't look scared. Even with a dead employee at his feet, Heihachi Furumi looked... relaxed.
"Partnership? Hmm... partnership?" Furumi rubbed his chin, looking genuinely puzzled. "Was it the bid from Nishishina Security? Or the Oriental Power merger? No, no... that's not it."
"Give me a minute, friend. So many people want a piece of Furumi Pharmaceuticals. Rejected deals are a daily occurrence."
Furumi opened his eyes wide, looking at the intruder with a blank, placid expression. "My apologies. I have absolutely no memory of you."
Nozomi noticed the shift.
Furumi wasn't a "Jolly Uncle" anymore. The air around him had turned cold and razor-sharp. He showed no weakness, no fear. He was a titan of the business world, and he was standing his ground against a murderer.
This is what it means to be a Ruler, Nozomi realized.
The stranger's smile faltered for a second. "I used a shell company name at the time, but still... to be forgotten entirely? That's quite hurtful, Furumi-san."
He gave a mock-bow. "Let's try again. Billy Greco. Here on behalf of IDEAL."
"Ah, I see," Furumi said, nodding. "You're the foreign syndicate using front companies to launder 'Grey' assets. It's a common tactic. But your pricing was garbage. A professional doesn't accept a bad deal."
"If you want to work with me, you need to show some sincerity. Negotiations require a bit of back-and-forth, don't you think?"
Furumi spoke casually, his hands in his pockets. But Nozomi, standing right beside him, saw his thumb move. He was using a "Blind-Dial" technique on the phone in his pocket. The screen—tucked away—was displaying the name: Takeshi Wakatsuki.
He was stalling for the Wild Tiger to arrive.
Billy Greco's eyes narrowed. He was a genius; he could smell the tactical delay. He tightened his fist, the veins on the back of his hand bulging.
"Stalling is such a bore, Furumi-san. If you keep trying to play me, you're going to DIE very quickly."
"But... I'm in a good mood tonight."
Billy rolled his wrist. "Since I'm in Tokyo, I want to experience the local 'Culture.' Furumi Pharmaceuticals needs a fighter for tonight's match, right?"
"Let me act as your 'Temporary' representative. I want to play this 'Kengan Game' everyone is so obsessed with."
Furumi prepared to offer another distraction, but Billy's expression went stone-cold. "I told you, Furumi-san. No more tricks. Or you die."
The pressure in the room became a physical weight. Furumi's bodyguards were useless against a man who could kill a Master of the Extreme Will Fist in seconds. Furumi broke into a cold sweat. He needed three more minutes for Wakatsuki to reach the building.
Suddenly, a hand rested on Furumi's shoulder.
The heat and the "Might" radiating from the hand were unmistakable. Furumi thought the Tiger had arrived early, but when he turned, he saw Ren Shiroki.
"You're looking for someone to play with?"
Ren raised a hand, beckoning to Billy with a smirk. "Fine. I'm game."
Billy's eyes flared with a savage light. He snapped his fingers. "OK!"
Furumi signaled his men to haul Hong's body away for an emergency resuscitation attempt, then watched as the two men stepped onto the concrete ring.
Ren remained bare-chested and barefoot. Billy Greco merely discarded his suit jacket and shoes, rolling up his sleeves to reveal forearms corded with functional muscle.
"Ren-kun... be careful," Furumi whispered. He wasn't worried about his own safety anymore; he was worried about the match. He needed to know IDEAL's true endgame.
On the ring, the Referee looked at the intruder with a shaking hand. "Kengan matches... weapons are strictly prohibited. I must... inspect you."
"Yes, yes. Be my guest," Billy said, raising his arms. His voice was a raspy hiss. "I hate being touched, though. There are other Referees here, right? It wouldn't be a big loss if I killed just one of you, would it?"
"Wha—!?"
The Referee froze. Before he could scream, Ren's hand shot out. He caught Billy's wrist mid-air, the two of them locked in a high-tension stalemate.
Ren could see Billy's fingers splayed—he had been seconds away from crushing the Referee's windpipe.
"Haha!"
Billy wrenched his hand free from Ren's grip. He looked at the Referee and shrugged. "You guys like nicknames here, don't you? Some call me the Black-Eared Demon. Others call me The Caracal. Let's go with the latter."
The "Caracal" grinned at the official. "Just a joke. Don't wet yourself."
The Referee knew it was a lie. He had just looked into the abyss. He backpedaled out of the ring, his face as white as a sheet.
Ren gestured to the perimeter. "Stay back, Ref. Call it from the floor."
"R-Right! Thank you!"
The Referee scrambled to a safe distance and raised his arm, pointedly ignoring the company names for this impromptu execution.
"CHALLENGER: THE UNBOUND SOUL, REN SHIROKI!"
"VERSUS: THE CARACAL, BILLY GRECO!"
"READY... FIGHT!"
ZIP!
Before the word "Fight" had fully echoed, Billy lunged. He didn't use a palm; he used a high-speed "Thrust-Punch" with his knuckles slightly projected.
Ren raised his arms in a reinforced block.
BANG!
A dull, heavy impact followed. Ren's eyes widened as the skin on his right forearm was shredded. A fresh spray of blood hit the concrete.
First hit and I'm bleeding?
The spectators gasped. Billy's punch hadn't just hit; it had "Sanded" the flesh away through sheer kinetic friction. The Caracal possessed a level of "Might" that was fundamentally predatory.
Ren didn't wait to be carved again. He back-dashed half a step, ignoring the sting in his arm, and fired a lightning-fast rising uppercut.
[GUILE: ATTACKING EAGLE]!
The strike was pure speed—a tactical reset meant to force Billy into a defensive posture. It was too fast for the human eye to track.
But the next second—
SHING!
Billy's left hand snaked out. He caught Ren's rising fist in a "Claw-Grip," his fingers like iron talons locking Ren's knuckles in place.
WHOOSH!
Billy used his massive back muscles to yank Ren forward, simultaneously driving his left knee into Ren's solar plexus.
Ren raised his left hand to block, but Billy twisted his wrist, breaking Ren's balance. The knee connected with Ren's ribs, followed immediately by a vicious horizontal elbow to Ren's jaw.
BOOM!
The dual impact sent Ren reeling. Bone cracked, and blood sprayed across the ring as Ren was launched backward.
THUD!
Ren hit the deck hard. He nipped back to his feet instantly, but he tasted the copper of blood in the back of his throat. His cheek was sliced open by his own teeth. He spat a mouthful of crimson onto the sand.
"Hah... huff... hah..."
Ren's breathing was heavy. The pain in his stomach and jaw was a fire in his brain. The scent of blood was everywhere.
The Caracal wasn't like Katsumi Orochi. He didn't have "Aesthetics." He only had Malice.
Ren's lips curled into a manic, bloody grin.
"Nice! Simply perfect! Come again!"
The first round had lasted only seconds, but the sheer savagery of it left the crowd paralyzed.
Heihachi Furumi stood at the railing, his eyes dark with a new realization. He had seen the top of the Kengan world. He knew the "Flavor" of the elite.
"The Caracal..." Furumi whispered.
"That man... he's on the same level as The Wild Tiger and The Fang of Metsudo."
☆☆☆
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