Kenji had taken his time going up the Ritz hotel, beating down anyone foolish enough to cross his path. The elevator was down, so it was the grand staircase, the opulent corridors, the plush, red-carpeted hallways, each had become a new stage for a slaughter. Honestly, it wasn't even about clearing the way anymore. It was about the rewards.
Every kill meant EXP from the System and a stat boost from his Nen ability, Player Reward. It was like a cheat code, a double-dip of progress, and exactly the reason he'd created the ability in the first place.
And with Stat Shift, the slaughter became even more educational, a live laboratory for his new powers. In a long, ornate hallway, a dozen thugs with assault rifles rushed at him from either end. He chose the first one, a hulking brute with a grim snarl on his face, and mentally shifted thirty points from his stat of Agility into Strength. He didn't just feel the power; it felt like his very muscles thickened and coiled, his bones becoming denser and heavier, like he had just ranked up again. With a grunt, he drove a fist into the thug's chest.
The man didn't just fall, he exploded into a shower of gore, a sickening spray of red and pink mist that splattered against the gilded wallpaper. A gruesome, visceral pop. The shockwave of the impact was so intense it sent his headless, limbless torso flying backward, crashing into the men behind him like a grotesque ragdoll.
"Damn," Kenji muttered, grimacing at the mess. "That was… hardcore."
The sight broke some of the men's morale. The first few rows of attackers skidded to a halt, their snarls replaced with wide-eyed terror and the desperate need to vomit clear on their faces.
But others still came, fueled by a mixture of blind loyalty and the raw fear that Fortuna's wrath would be worse than this. Kenji just sighed and shifted again, funneling all thirty points back into Agility and another fifty from other stats for good measure.
The world seemed to slow. The running men stuttered forward, their movements comical and disjointed. Bullets fired from their guns seemed to crawl through the air like fat, buzzing flies. A man swinging a baseball bat appeared to be wading through thick syrup, his face a mask of straining effort.
Kenji moved with an almost unnatural grace, weaving through the seemingly frozen violence. With a casual flick of his sword, he bisected five men before they even registered his movement.
He was Experimenting. Save Point wasn't worth risking here. Player Reward and Stat Shift had already proven their usefulness. That left the two abilities he hadn't tested yet, Contract Chain and Game Field.
A thug charged, a look of desperate madness in his eyes, but Kenji paid him no mind. He raised his right hand.
Behind him, a Nen beast materialized. It was a terrifying paradox, looked like an angel, or something wearing an angel's skin. It had a long mane of crimson hair that seemed to flow upward, defying gravity, framing a face with three luminous eyes, the third glaring from its forehead.
Its body was genderless, smooth as a doll's, but its mouth was cracked at the edges like shattered porcelain. A pair of enormous wings spread wide from its back, one pure white, the other midnight black. The contrast was startling, almost beautiful in its horror.
The face seemed to resemble a certain control devil.
Okay, so maybe he had based it off Makima. His choice. No regrets.
The thug froze mid-stride, as did the others, their terror palpable. The very air around them grew cold and thin.
The beast's mouth opened. Slowly at first, then wider, and then it paused before the cracks on its jaw split further, impossibly so, until its mouth was a grotesque chasm. The void inside pulsed with a malevolent red light, then chains burst forth. The chains were of the same shade of crimson as the Nen beast's hair, and they shot into the thugs like living serpents, wrapping around their necks, burning and sinking beneath their skin. They screamed, a high-pitched sound of pure agony, before their eyes rolled back in their heads and they collapsed unconscious.
When the beast vanished, Kenji inspected them. A black tattoo circled each neck where the chains had bitten, a stylized, intricate chain collar drawn in ink. "Good." He nodded. "I like this better."
He slapped one awake. The man jolted up, panicked, and tried to attack, his hands trembling as he reached for a knife.
"Stop."
The man froze instantly. His muscles locked in place, his arm outstretched, his hand hovering inches from the knife. He was a statue, a puppet with a severed string.
"Wha—what—?" the man stammered, a single tear of pure terror rolling down his cheek.
"Silence."
The man's mouth clamped shut instantly, his lips sealed.
Kenji smiled faintly. Perfect. It worked as intended. No problems so far. He was making sure he didn't have problems with his power.
"Sleep."
The thug's body went limp. He collapsed again, unconscious before he hit the floor. Kenji dusted off his hands and kept walking. He could already sense it, there weren't many left. Only a handful of auras stood between him and Lady Fortuna herself.
He pushed open the next set of ornate doors and froze.
'…What the hell am I looking at?'
Four men stood before him, identical in face, height, and build, but dressed in differently colored suits that looked halfway between tailored three-pieces and flashy tracksuits. One yellow. One green. One blue. One red. They stepped forward in sync, their movements unnervingly synchronized, then struck a ridiculous pose, hands on hips, chests puffed out.
"I am Nonama!" declared Yellow.
"I am Bonama!" followed Green.
"I am Tonama!" cried Blue.
"And I am Conama!" finished Red.
Together they shouted: "And we are, the Ma Brothers!"
They moved forward again, stopping to strike another pose, their arms outstretched dramatically.
"Surrender, and the Great Lady will spare your life!" Yellow announced.
"Yes, the Great Lady is generous enough to accept even the unworthy like you!" Green added.
"If not, you will face us!" Blue declared, his voice ringing with theatrical menace.
"And we are undefeated, for we are—"
They shouted together, in perfect unison: "THE GREAT MA'S!"
Kenji's eye twitched. So this was how anime protagonists felt when forced to deal with clowns. They were a bizarre, theatrical spectacle in the middle of a warzone. He let out a long, weary sigh.
"…Right." He sighed and walked forward, saying nothing.
"You've chosen death!" the brothers roared and charged in perfect sync.
To his surprise, they weren't bad. Their speed was good, their teamwork even better, likely honed from years of fighting as a quartet. The sheer coordination of their movements was maddening.
Yellow came from above with a flying kick. Kenji dodged right, only for Blue to already be there, a fist cocked and ready. Kenji twisted, caught the punch, flipped Blue over, and hurled him into Red, who was flanking from behind. Green intercepted with a heavy kick that forced Kenji to plant his blade and block.
The brothers regrouped, moving in zig-zag patterns that would have made the eye ache. Attacks came from all sides, punch, kick, grab, blade, relentless. Kenji blocked and parried, cutting when he could, but the pressure was constant.
A sudden strike caught him, two fists slamming into his chest. He skidded back, slammed into a wall, and flipped to his feet. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
Across from him, the Ma Brothers stood in formation.
Conama frowned. This wasn't right. Most enemies would already be broken under their full quartet assault. But this man… this man was calm. He was struggling, yes, but always just a step below them. Never faltering.
Conama's instincts screamed that something was wrong. It felt less like a life-or-death struggle and more like an observation. As if Kenji was deliberately holding back, allowing them to push him just to see what they could do. The thought was infuriating.
"End it now!" Conama barked, his voice filled with an edge of frustrated desperation.
They charged again, attacks faster, sharper, more coordinated. But the unease only grew. The higher they pushed, the more it felt like Kenji was matching them. Almost as if he was testing them.
"Is that all?" Kenji taunted, grinning, the blood from his mouth giving him a feral, dangerous look.
Nonama (Yellow) snarled and broke formation, rushing ahead recklessly. He wouldn't be played with. Kenji caught him mid-strike, slammed a fist into his gut, twisted his arm, and flung him bodily into his brothers. The three went down like bowling pins.
Red pulled Yellow up, glaring, and held him back. "Control yourself!"
Then Red turned back to Kenji, his expression now a mix of respect and annoyance. "You are strong. None have lasted this long against the four of us. So… we will grant you the honor of seeing our full power."
Kenji tensed as their aura flared, burning hot and wild. Before he could react, he was sent flying. Green crashed down from above, fist glowing with a verdant light, striking with the weight of a train.
Kenji rolled aside as a crimson scythe, carved into the marble where he'd been. A yellow beast, like a giant worm, burst from the ground, snapping its fangs. The scythe and the worm were just distractions. The true threat was the blue aura now enveloping the room, distorting the air and freezing his movements.
Kenji wiped blood from his mouth, eyes narrowing as he stared at the four now standing shoulder to shoulder, Nen blazing.
Then he laughed, low and sharp.
"Oh, this just got a little more fun."
————————————————————
If you want to read ahead and access 15 advanced chapters, check the patreon. $4 Dollars
Link:patreon/Phantomking785