In the depths of a dark alley in Tokyo, beyond the reach of neon lights, a giant man clad in a dark green cloak violently pried open a manhole cover.
"Clang—!"
A dull, thunderous metallic crash exploded in the alley, drawing the attention of pedestrians on the street.
They instinctively stopped, curiously peering in, and then met a pair of crimson eyes like those of a wild beast.
The pedestrians stumbled back a few steps and left the alley without looking back.
Once Dorian ensured the manhole cover was tightly sealed, he leaped into the abyss, his cloak flapping loudly in the air as he fell.
With a muffled "Thud!" Dorian landed steadily, walked through the long tunnel towards the glowing exit, which led to a spacious underground area.
The dim yellow light illuminated this shelter, converted from wartime underground fortifications; he checked all the mechanisms and supply reserves, everything was as he had left it.
Dorian's taut nerves finally relaxed; he let out a sigh and slumped onto the makeshift bed in the corner, the iron frame groaning under his weight.
No one had been there, and no one could possibly know about this place; it was the only secret base that could put him at ease.
He picked up the vodka from the wooden box and began to disinfect his wounds.
"Hiss—!" As the vodka poured onto his burns, he gasped, the burning pain of the alcohol making him grimace.
Dorian's veins bulged on his forehead; he gritted his teeth, scooped out a large amount of ointment, and with trembling fingers, evenly applied it to the burnt area.
"That damned brat…" Dorian cursed under his breath, wrapping bandages around his chest in layers. After he finished bandaging, he leaned against the wall, panting, feeling the slight coolness brought by the medicine.
"Tap, tap, tap."
"Hmm?" Dorian looked up to see a man in a green tracksuit and flip-flops, leaning lazily against the doorframe with one hand in his pocket.
This man was Katsumi Orochi's master, Kato Kiyosumi, an ultra-practical fighter who prioritized actual combat over dojo training.
"Found ~ you ~." Kato walked into Dorian's secret base with both hands in his pockets.
"You look like you knew you were being tracked," Kato Kiyosumi remarked casually, seeing no surprise on Dorian's face.
"It's you," Dorian said calmly, his eyes showing no ripple. When he had gone to challenge Shinshinkai a few days prior, he had already investigated the profiles of all their top fighters.
In Dorian's mind, this man before him was merely considered a master within Shinshinkai.
Even in his heavily injured state, it would take Shinshinkai's true head, Doppo Orochi, to be a worthy opponent.
"It seems I've disappointed you." Kato raised an eyebrow at Dorian's demeanor, feeling a hint of anger at being underestimated.
"You're not good enough," Dorian said unhurriedly, taking a swig of vodka from the wooden box.
"It's far too early for me to lose."
"Tch!" Kato's fists audibly cracked.
"We'll see when we try." Kato Kiyosumi said, then leaped down the stairs, his flip-flops echoing "pat-a" in the spacious area.
Kato carefully surveyed Dorian's shelter, feeling even more disdain; the death row inmate before him was nothing more than a rat hiding in the sewers.
"But I'm surprised you know a place like this."
"This is truly a good hiding spot."
"I used this place over 50 years ago," Dorian said, placing the empty liquor bottle heavily on the wooden box.
"During wartime, huh?" Kato was somewhat surprised, not expecting this death row inmate to have been a soldier.
"This was originally a facility of the Imperial Japanese Army, requisitioned by the Eagle Army after the war."
"When I came here, I was only seventeen or eighteen, just a lowly private running errands."
"For such a senior, shouldn't I offer a gift…" Kato scratched his head, slowly approaching Dorian, who was sitting on the bed.
"No way!" Kato Kiyosumi launched a front kick, tearing through the air towards Dorian's face.
"Slam!" His proud kick, however, only hit a falling bedsheet, while Dorian had appeared like a ghost at Kato's side.
"Hmph!" He struck with his palm, and Kato's figure flew out like a cannonball.
"Bang!"
Kato Kiyosumi's body slammed heavily into an iron barrel and wooden boxes, making a loud noise. The intense pain twisted his face, and his forehead was covered in fine beads of sweat.
"Chi… Chinese martial arts," Kato couldn't help but exclaim.
"Clink! Clink! Clink!" To Kato Kiyosumi's surprised gaze, Dorian was continuously smashing empty liquor bottles. Moments later, the floor was covered in glass shards.
Dorian took an iron can from the wooden box and slowly opened it.
"If you judge my strength by what people describe…"
"Then I can only pray for you."
"I just couldn't beat that brat," Dorian said, plunging his hands into the can, soaking them for a moment before pulling them out. The surface of his hands was coated with a thick layer of viscous butter.
"High-viscosity lubricant," Dorian said calmly, kneeling on one knee, picking up the glass shards from the floor one by one and sticking them onto his fists.
"Fighters who have fought me, if they don't die, they end up crippled." Dorian raised both fists, the glass-covered knuckles glinting menacingly in the dim yellow light.
"Necessary feigning of weakness, enjoying a conceded defeat, is only for a greater victory."
"This is a fighting method developed by gangsters in the early 20th century, before Prohibition, when Al Capone was still a small-time hoodlum, to utterly devastate their enemies."
"You come along too."
"If you truly want to decide the winner." Dorian's eyes glowed fiercely, and the intense pressure made Kato's body tremble, large drops of sweat falling to the ground, leaving only a puddle.
It was then that Kato Kiyosumi understood what kind of monster he was facing. His own expertise in practical combat was nothing more than child's play in front of this monster who had endured countless death matches.
Dorian slowly took a stance, his terrifying aura making his white hair flutter in the air.
"You too, like me, coat your fists with lubricant and then stick glass shards on them," Dorian reiterated.
"Come, let me teach you what true practical combat is," Dorian said, spreading his glass-covered claws.
The air seemed to solidify at that moment. Kato Kiyosumi could hear his own violent heartbeat, sweat streamed down his cheeks; the man before him was not one of those opponents who held back, but a ferocious beast that had emerged from hell.
"Hmph! I won't listen to a death row inmate!" Kato struggled to his feet, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth. His eyes sharpened, and he adopted the starting stance of practical karate.
"I will win in my own way!"
This was the pride of Shinshinkai; he would never back down!