You hit like a child," Raiken growled, blood trailing from his lips.
Then — boom.
A right hook from Raiken collided with Klaus's chest like a battering ram.
Klaus's body flew backwards — slammed into the arena wall behind his corner.
The sound was meaty — like bones trying to hold together but failing.
Then Raiken charged.
Full speed.
All weight.
And SLAMMED his entire body into Klaus, crushing him against the wall like a ragdoll.
Klaus gasped. No air came.
Blood filled his mouth.
Raiken didn't stop. His fists became sledgehammers. Every hit came with a sickening sound — bones crunching, flesh tearing, muscle caving in. The crowd was silent. The air was thick with horror.
Blood sprayed in arcs with each blow. One eye nearly shut. Ribs cracked. The wall behind Klaus splintered.
Raiken grabbed Klaus by the neck — lifted him — and drove a knee into his gut hard enough to make the crowd scream.
Klaus collapsed.
Blood pooling.
Eyes fluttering.
The world spinning.
The whistle shrieked.
"ROUND ONE — OVER!!"
Raiken stood over Klaus, grinning like a monster. His fists still twitching. Ready for more.
Klaus didn't move.
Sofie stood frozen at the edge of the ring — wide-eyed, shaking.
And Raiken... just smiled.
"Round two," he whispered. "I'll break you in front of her."
Klaus was in his corner. Gasping. Bloody. Barely upright.
Every breath raked through his ribs like shattered glass. His arms dangled like torn ropes.
His knees threatened to give in. The lights of the arena burned above like cruel stars, and the crowd's roar blurred into a single, suffocating hum.
"KLAUS!!"
Sofie screamed from ringside, tears burning at the edges of her eyes. She gripped the ropes of his corner, shaking. "KLAUS, PLEASE—!"
"Don't worry," Tatsuki said, voice calm but eyes fierce. "Your boyfriend's not done yet."
Sofie turned to her. "What?"
Tatsuki didn't blink. She pointed to the boy barely standing."Look at his eyes."
Sofie looked—and then she saw it.
They weren't the eyes of someone broken.
They weren't the eyes of someone beaten.
They were still fighting.
Klaus—slowly, painfully—grabbed the ropes. Muscles trembling. He dragged himself upright, bleeding from the mouth, his right eye nearly swollen shut, but still… upright.
The referee stepped in, concern painted across his face."You good to continue?" he asked.
Klaus didn't speak.
He just nodded.
And the instant the ref signaled continuation, the arena exploded.
Because no one—no one—had ever made it to Round Two against Raiken.
The bell rang.
"FIGHT!"
Raiken didn't waste a heartbeat. He rushed forward, lightning-fast, slamming into Klaus with brutal precision. He grappled him, hurled him across the ring, then chased with a flurry of fists and bone-breaking kicks. Blood painted the mat—Klaus's blood.
Klaus's body was trembling, soaked, mangled—but it stood. Again.
Raiken's brow furrowed.
He was still standing?
Then Klaus closed his eyes.
And he remembered.
"I'll break you in front of her."
His fists clenched.
Something inside him cracked.
Not his bones—his limits.
The blood on his skin began to sizzle.
The sweat evaporated.
The air around him shivered.
From the corner, Tatsuki gripped the mat, wide-eyed."He… fucking did it."
Sofie turned to her, desperate. "Did what?!"
Tatsuki's grin widened."He's awakened it. Most people wouldn't even see it unless their spirit's been tempered—but right now, he's flooding the ring with it."
"With what?!" Sofie shouted.
"Ryōki."
Sofie blinked.
Tatsuki turned, explaining with rapid fire intensity, almost reverently:
"Ryōki is the will made manifest. A presence pure, suffocating, undeniable. It's fighting spirit, intimidation… instinct. The primal aura of one who refuses to doubt themselves. That's what gives it power. That's what makes it real."
"It's inside every living thing… but only those who face death and refuse to kneel can call it out."
Then, like a thunderclap, Klaus's entire body flared red—a blazing aura erupting from his skin like wildfire. The ring's air warped around him.
Raiken's eyes twitched.
"…He's unlocked Ryōki."
Klaus stood still at his corner.
Then blinked.
Raiken whirled—Klaus was suddenly right behind him.
"You think you're cocky now, huh?!" Raiken snarled, fists igniting with rage. "Then EAT THIS—!"
He roared and unleashed his signature move:"Mishima-Style Ultimate Technique: TEMPEST DEMON GOD FIST!"
A deafening boom rang through the arena—his fist struck Klaus head-on—but it didn't move him an inch.
The red aura around Klaus's body didn't flicker.
Because he had coated himself in Ryōki.
Tatsuki jumped up screaming, "YES!!"
Sofie gasped—then smiled through tears.
"He's… he's doing it…"
Klaus's fists ignited with violent crimson.
Raiken didn't even see the first hit.
KRAK!
A fist slammed into his stomach, lifting him clean off the floor.
Then came another—to the ribs. Then two more to the face. Then a flurry.
KRAK-KRUK-KRAK!
Raiken activated his own Ryōki, shielding himself in golden flame—but Klaus didn't stop. His barrage was relentless.
Fists blurred. The ring shook. The crowd went silent.
Then Klaus grabbed him by the throat.
Raiken's body froze. He saw the eyes again
cold, glowing, unflinching.
"RUN," his instincts screamed.
"GET OUT NOW."
But his pride anchored him.
Too late.
Klaus swept his leg—Raiken toppled.
And that's when it happened.
Klaus raised a single fist.
And poured everything—his fury, his pain, his Ryōki—into it.
The fist collapsed downward.
It struck Raiken's face with a bone-crunching, flesh-ripping detonation. Blood sprayed across the ring. The impact caved in his skull.
His jaw snapped sideways.
His teeth shattered.
His nose disappeared in a mist of red.
The ring mat cracked.
Raiken's body twitched.
Klaus didn't stop.
He mounted the broken warrior and began hammering his face—again, and again, and again—each blow turning bone to mush, skin to pulp.
By the tenth punch, there was no more face left to hit.
The crowd was dead silent.
The referee ran in, screaming, trying to pull him off—Klaus blinked.
He froze.
Blood was dripping from his hands. It wasn't his.
He looked down… at what was left of Raiken.
Then slowly stood up, chest heaving.
The referee raised his hand—almost fearfully.
"WINNER…!!"
The arena erupted.
A storm of screams, cheers, and chaos.
But Klaus didn't hear them.
He turned to the side—locked eyes with Sofie.
She was crying.
But she was smiling.
---
Klaus walked down the dim corridor, his body sore and bloodied, every step echoing with exhaustion. Behind him, Sofie followed with worry etched into her face, and Tatsuki trailed them, arms crossed but smiling wide.
Suddenly—SMACK!
Tatsuki slapped Klaus hard on the back.
"GAAH—Tatsuki! Stop with the damn slaps!" Klaus winced, recoiling from the sting.
She just laughed, then slapped him again.
"I can't help it! I'm so damn happy right now! My little disciple just unlocked Ryōki like it was nothing!" she beamed, her eyes nearly sparkling.
Klaus sighed, stumbling forward, his ribs protesting. "Glad one of us is having fun…"
He finally dropped down onto a bench with a grunt, removing the suppression bracelet from his wrist. A sudden shiver ran through him.
The air shifted. His wind and lightning elements surged back into his core like reuniting limbs.
Sofie immediately got to work—kneeling beside him with a bowl of warm water and a cloth. Gently, she began wiping the dried blood and sweat from his chest, his jaw, his arms.
He winced a little, then relaxed. Her touch was soft. Careful.
"You did well, Klaus..." she whispered.
Their eyes met.
For a long, silent moment, nothing else existed in the room.
Then she leaned in and kissed his forehead, her thumb still brushing his cheek.
He blinked once, then let out a small, breathless chuckle. "…Thanks."
Tatsuki, standing a few feet away, crossed her arms and smirked, watching them like an older sister admiring her little siblings. "Tch. Young love."
Sofie gave her a wink. "Jealous?"
"Not even a little."
Steam rolled out of the stalls. Klaus, freshly showered and wrapped in a towel, stepped out, already dressed in casual black training pants and a sleeveless hoodie.
Tatsuki tilted her head. "Feeling alive again?"
Klaus nodded. "Barely."
As they made their way toward the exit, a roar met them from beyond the corridor.
"KLAUS! KLAUS! KLAUS!"
The chanting echoed off the walls, rhythmic and wild.
He stepped out under the overhead lights—and hundreds of spectators crowded the rails above, hands raised, voices booming.
Klaus stood frozen for a second, the attention washing over him like a tidal wave.
Tatsuki nudged him. "Go on. Embrace it."
"…It's suffocating," Klaus muttered, pulling his hood up as he lowered his gaze.
Sofie giggled softly beside him. Tatsuki rolled her eyes. "How cute."
Just as they started walking again, a figure stepped out from a side hallway.Lady Mizue Kurogami came forward.
"Yo, that was insane!" he said to Klaus, giving him a firm handshake. "You were like a damn storm demon out there. I was wondering if you had anything left in the tank… wanna go a few rounds?"
Tatsuki immediately stepped between them. "No."
"Awwww, I tried," Lady Mizue sighed, then smiled again. "Well anyway—congrats, Champion."
He tossed a silver briefcase into Tatsuki's hands—click. Inside: stacks of bills.
"Your winnings, coach."
Tatsuki whistled. "Jackpot."
With nothing more to say, the trio turned and walked out of the building together—Klaus bruised and quiet, Sofie by his side, and Tatsuki counting her cash with a grin that could crack the sky.