Chapter 300: One! Two! Three!
Professional wrestlers exist to showcase their ultimate techniques and absorb
those of their opponents. They live for the ring, refusing to run, no matter the
cost. They endure countless hours of grueling physical conditioning and steel
their resolve for the impact.
That is why a Pro-Wrestler is strong!
Martial artists exist to strike their targets and avoid being struck in return.
The endless pursuit of the hit and the desperate effort of the evasion—the vast
majority of warriors build their strength upon these two pillars.
That is why a Martial Artist is strong!
[SOUL COMBATANT] vs. [HELL'S ANGEL]—Ren Shiroki vs. Jun Sekibayashi;
Martial Artist vs. Pro-Wrestler!
Two fundamentally different definitions of strength clashed on the same octagon,
creating visible ripples of kinetic energy that hammered against the eyes of the
spectators.
Even the fallen Himalayan [God of Destruction], Haruo Kono, was moved by the
sight. He tightened his meaty fists, whispering to the air, "This... this is
what it means to fight—!!"
The momentum of the battle had shifted. The outcome now rested on Sekibayashi's
singular resolve and the sheer accumulation of Ren's technical mastery.
Zip!
Sekibayashi's heavy right fist whistled forward.
Ren stood bladed. His left wrist snapped horizontally, meeting Sekibayashi's
forearm mid-swing and deflecting the torque. The massive fist grazed past Ren's
ear.
WHOOSH!
[DRIVE PARRY]!
Ren used the momentum of the parry to twist his core, lunging forward with a
right straight.
BOOM—!
The fist connected with surgical precision on the very tip of Sekibayashi's
chin.
The impact was far more effective than a blow to the side of the jaw. At that
exact millisecond, Sekibayashi's brain underwent a violent collision with the
interior walls of his skull—a biological "pinball effect."
The result was a textbook Grade-3 concussion. Sekibayashi's vision began to
swim, a wave of vertigo dragging his consciousness toward the abyss. He was on
the verge of a total blackout!
The young Kure announcer shrieked: "HE LANDED IT! SEKIBAYASHI IS LOSING FOCUS!!"
"..."
Ringside, Gouki Shibukawa let out a chuckle.
"An ordinary man would be in a coma right now. But he's a Pro-Wrestler. Taking a
nap isn't that easy for them."
"However—" The [Saint of War] narrowed his eyes. "The damage is finally starting
to stick~!"
It was true. In Sekibayashi's vision, the world had melted into a series of
distorted, kaleidoscopic slimes. Ren Shiroki stood before him like a flickering,
multi-colored demon, swaying in a wind that didn't exist.
I can't see...
ZIP!
Even in his daze, Sekibayashi's hands moved. He reached out blindly, his massive
fingers clamping onto Ren's hair.
He couldn't find the breath to speak, but his face was a mask of savage
ferocity. The message was clear: I don't need to see you. If you're in my hands,
I can still break you!
A desperate grapple was a move in itself.
Ren reacted instantly. Zip!
He unleashed a left hook that moved so fast it was invisible to the crowd. It
caught Sekibayashi on the jaw again, causing the giant's eyes to roll back into
his skull.
"—?"
A low, confused groan escaped Sekibayashi's throat. His grip loosened
involuntarily, his knees buckling as he began to sink toward the sand.
The Hell's Angel had never shown a reaction like this.
"What?! Is Sekibayashi actually going down?!" the announcer gasped.
"It's finally happening!" Kugo Kurachi frowned, his voice dropping into a
serious bass. "When a world-class striker turns serious, the velocity of the hit
overrides human reflexes. Ren-kun has reached that threshold!"
"With his brain rattling, Jun's reactions have slowed to a crawl. He doesn't
have the micro-second needed to tense his muscles or prepare his soul for the
impact. He's being hit 'clean'!"
"In this state, a wrestler's durability is stripped away. He's as vulnerable as
an ordinary civilian!"
"My apologies, Seki-aniki. I really can't take another one of those punches—"
Ren Shiroki whispered the words, his face contorting into a mask of lethal
focus. He gritted his teeth and unleashed a torrent of strikes that fell like a
monsoon.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Chin, throat, solar plexus, liver—
The high-frequency barrage looked like a finishing move, but every strike was a
feint, a technical setup for the real "Finish." Ren extended two fingers, aiming
them like a spear at Sekibayashi's jawline.
[JAMIE'S POINT STAR]!
SLAP!
The fingertips grazed the jaw, the localized shock further disrupting the
giant's equilibrium.
Ren performed a low-level sliding step, using the momentum to pivot into a
spinning heel-kick.
[RYU'S HURRICANE KICK]!
The ball of Ren's foot caught Sekibayashi flush on the chin for the third time
in ten seconds. The giant's consciousness drifted further into the dark.
In his daze, Sekibayashi found himself adrift in a memory.
Was it four years ago? Five? No... longer.
The massive Karate organization Rokushin Kaikan had held an all-styles open
tournament. Fighters from every background had entered: Karatekas, Boxers, Muay
Thai masters, Kenpo practitioners, Sumo Yokozunas, and Aiki masters.
And one Pro-Wrestler. His "Senior"—Kugo Kurachi.
The [God of Pro-Wrestling] had dominated the early rounds using nothing but
wrestling techniques. It had been a magnificent display of the art.
At the time, Sekibayashi was in his early thirties, a mid-tier rising star who
didn't yet understand the "Soul" of the Ring.
In the next round, Kurachi had faced the tournament's premier heavy-hitter:
Mentaro Ikeuchi. Even against that level of power, Kurachi had refused to
defend. He had "Received" everything until his body finally failed.
Afterward, a young, naive Sekibayashi hadn't understood. If you just blocked or
dodged, you would have won! Why didn't you do it?
Kurachi had answered with a simple question: "How can a Pro-Wrestler not believe
in Pro-Wrestling?"
That one sentence had been the catalyst. It was the moment the Hell's Angel was
truly born.
Why am I remembering this now?
Sekibayashi's world was spinning, yet he felt a strange surge of warmth. It was
as if he could hear Kurachi's voice echoing through the years.
The will of the Pro-Wrestler had surpassed "Combat." It had become a Path.
It's been a good run...
Sekibayashi was a blood-soaked wreck, yet he couldn't stop the grin from
spreading across his face.
This feeling... this evolution... it's magnificent!
I have so many people to thank. Kurachi-san for letting me be selfish. Gen
Shikano-san for believing in me. The Kure for this ring. And Ren Shiroki...
Yeah. I'll thank them all... as soon as I wake up.
Sekibayashi remained on his feet, his center of gravity locked low. He was
covered in blood, and his eyes were hollow and sightless. He was out on his
feet.
"The match—" the announcer began, but she stopped.
Ren Shiroki performed a back-hop, dropping into a low, predatory crouch. He
locked onto the unconscious Sekibayashi.
"Hey!" Jose Kanzaki shouted from the stands, his voice full of alarm. "Ren-kun!
Stop! He's out!"
"MISSION START—!"
Ren let out a roar. He dropped into a sprinter's starting block and drove his
heels into the sand.
Ultimate Secret Art: [LUKE'S PALE HORSE]!
WHOOSH!
Ren tackled the vertical Sekibayashi, driving his weight into the giant and
taking him to the ground. Sekibayashi hit the sand on his back. Ren straddled
the giant's massive torso, his fists clenched and raised.
"WAIT!" Jose tried to vault the barrier, but he was too slow.
Ren loomed over Sekibayashi. He pulled his right fist back and unleashed a heavy
blow with the weight of his entire body.
BOOM!
The punch didn't hit Sekibayashi. It slammed into the sand inches from the
giant's left ear, creating a deep crater.
"ONE!" Ren roared.
His left fist fired down.
BOOM!!
It slammed into the sand on the opposite side of Sekibayashi's head.
"TWO!!"
For the finale, Ren slightly lifted his weight, putting his entire 101kg mass
into a final, thunderous strike.
"THREE!!!"
KRA-KOOM!!!
The final punch hit the left-side crater, expanding it into a massive pit and
sending a wall of dust into the air.
"Phew...!"
Ren finally stopped. He remained in the straddle position, his face a mask of
blood and grit. He hoisted his chin, looking at the stunned announcer.
The Kure girl blinked, then a wide grin broke across her face. "A THREE-COUNT
PIN!! HE FINISHED IT WITH THE RULES OF THE RING!! THAT IS THE ULTIMATE LEVEL OF
RESPECT!!"
"THE MATCH IS DECIDED!" "THE WINNER: REN SHIROKI!!"
Ren stood up with a groan, spitting out a mouthful of blood.
He pointed his left hand to the section of the crowd on one side. He turned and
pointed his right hand to the other. Then, he extended both hands toward his
friends and hoisted them high.
ZIP!
A few drops of blood were flicked from his fingertips as he offered a final
salute to the audience.
"I won—!!"
(End of Chapter)
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