CHAPTER 121: THE PURE ONES
Inside the maintenance tunnel, the acrid smoke of the grenades slowly drifted away.
Seishu Akoya, the "Executioner," leaned against a concrete pillar. His riot shield and baton were discarded in the wreckage, and his heavy tactical armor had been stripped away. He stood in a tattered black compression shirt and shorts, his skin covered in angry red blisters. His hands were the worst; they were still radiating a faint heat, the flesh charred and raw. It was a sight that should have induced agonizing screams.
But Akoya's face was an immovable mask of iron. He looked as if he didn't even register the pain.
What truly made him grit his teeth was the memory of Ren Shiroki's casual taunt: "Seriously, what is it with you people? How the hell do the Metropolitan Police manage their inventory...?"
"Justice... executed!"
Akoya slammed a charred fist into the concrete wall. He prepared to lunge at Ren, but his knees buckled. He couldn't find the strength to move.
Facing the combined might of Ren, the Caracal, and the fire of Dorian, Akoya's stamina had hit absolute zero. Even a man who ignored pain couldn't bypass human physiology. His body was a machine with an empty tank.
Akoya ground his teeth until foam appeared at the corners of his mouth. He tried to force himself upright, but a gentle hand rested on his arm.
Shunsuka Hiyama stepped out of the shadows, her expression filled with a pained devotion. She began dabbing at his hands with a wet silk cloth.
"Stop, Akoya-san. If you keep going, you'll burn out. You'll die!"
"Justice does not sleep," Akoya rasped, trying to shake her off. "Get back, Hiyama! I will purge the heretic!"
But Hiyama didn't move. She stood her ground, her small hands firm on his arms. "I will do whatever you ask. I promise. I'll arrange the match with the Soul Combat Hub. I'll give you your execution. But you must survive to carry it out!"
Akoya finally went still. He allowed her to lead him away.
Nozomi Tenma watched the scene from the corner, whispering to her friends. "Those two... they seriously need a psychiatrist. That relationship is pathological."
An Sakurai giggled, her split tongue flickering. "Maybe. But I suspect the cop would just execute the therapist for 'Mental Deviation.'"
Hana Mitani nodded, her face pale. "I'm just glad he's not looking at us anymore..."
Ren Shiroki watched them go. He was far from unscathed himself. His arms and shoulders were swollen, his chest was a map of bruises, and his right leg was throbbing with a rhythmic heat. The previous medical patches had failed under the pressure of the fight. Blood was once again dripping from his forehead and chin.
But when the three women hurried over to help him, Ren raised a hand, stopping them.
He looked at the departing Akoya and Hiyama. "So... the scrap is postponed, right?"
Akoya gave a final, silent glare, and Hiyama nodded in confirmation.
The moment they were out of sight, Ren's relaxed persona vanished. He turned toward the concrete wall. A slow, jagged grin spread across his face. He looked like a man who had just been denied the "Meal" he'd been waiting for all week.
Next microsecond—
BOOM!
Ren unleashed a full-power straight punch into the brickwork. The wall groaned, a spiderweb of cracks erupting around his knuckles.
He followed up with a high-line kick.
THOOM!
The structural concrete shattered. Shards of brick rained down as Ren launched into a frantic, high-speed barrage against the environment.
BAM! BAM! BANG!
He wasn't using a master's technique. He was just pouring his internal "Heat" into the building. He hit the wall until the masonry was pulverized, his knuckles bleeding and his chest heaving with exertion.
"Hah... huff... hah..."
Ren finally stopped. He wiped the sweat and brick-dust from his face, his expression returning to its usual casual clarity.
"Hoo... okay. I feel a bit better now."
He took the towel Nozomi offered and began cleaning himself up. An stepped in to check his wounds, her fingers moving with clinical speed.
Hana Mitani stared at the ruined wall, finally understanding what Nozomi meant by "Abnormality." Ren hadn't been fighting for a contract or an insurance payout. He was a "Pure One."
Like Akoya and his "Justice," or Akagi and his "Divine Gamble," Ren Shiroki was a man who lived for his "Existence-Proof." For him, a struggle that ended without a clear winner was a biological insult. It was a pressure that had to be vented, or it would consume him.
"Justice never misses its mark," Akoya whispered as Hiyama finished the first layer of bandages.
"Understood," Hiyama replied with a serene smile. She looked at Ren over her shoulder. She realized that as long as men like Ren Shiroki existed, Akoya would never stop. He would chase the "Might" until either it or he was destroyed.
The group rested for a few minutes, preparing to depart before the sirens got too close.
But then, the sound of footsteps echoed from the stairs.
A squad of men in dark, high-end suits descended into the tunnel. They didn't look like standard patrolmen. One man stepped forward, showing a badge.
Metropolitan Police.
Hana Mitani felt her heart skip a beat. She was a Yakuza Patriarch; police encounters were never good. But since Ichika was her friend, she hoped she could avoid the worst of it.
But the atmosphere didn't ease. Ren went still, and Akoya narrowed his eyes. Even Nozomi's brow furrowed.
"They aren't from the precinct," Nozomi whispered. "They're 'Elite'... and they smell like blood."
She pointed to a man in the center of the squad. He was a middle-aged bureaucrat with a short, severe buzz cut and an expensive suit. He radiated high-level authority.
But the real threat was the man standing directly behind him.
The "Bodyguard" was a lean man with greasy black hair and a scruffy, unkempt beard. He had a mocking, jittery expression and was currently tearing open a Snickers bar with his teeth. His fingers were stained with chocolate.
Nozomi's vision flared. This man was a "Guillotine" in human skin. He looked like he could decapitate everyone in the room before they could blink.
The official spoke, his gaze sweeping over the survivors.
"A pleasure. I am Seiichi Tenma, Superintendent of the Metropolitan Police. I am in charge of the Secret Service Division's recruitment and development program."
He looked at Akoya and Ren.
"Captain Akoya Seishu. And you, Shiroki Ren. You are both suspected of involvement in a series of illegal activities tonight. You will come with us for 'Questioning.'"
The threat was explicit. Akoya didn't move. Ren just grinned.
Tenma's expression soured. "Do you require a formal warrant? As a Superintendent, I can draft one in my head."
Just as Hiyama stepped forward to intervene, a second group of people rounded the corner from the opposite direction.
"OI! HEY!"
A familiar voice echoed through the tunnel.
Ichika Iori strolled into the room, her hands in her pockets. She was grinning, walking beside a second middle-aged man.
The newcomer had short, spiked hair and wore frame-less glasses. His face was a regular fixture on the nightly news.
Tokyo Metropolitan Police Commissioner—Haru Takeya.
"Ah, Tenma-kun. I didn't expect to see the Secret Service Division's head doing street-sweeping work tonight. How dedicated of you!"
The Commissioner smiled, but his eyes were cold.
"I heard you wanted to arrest my star detective's associates? And this 'Innocent Civilian'? You certainly have the authority... provided the Commissioner signs the order."
Commissioner Takeya shook his head.
"But I'm afraid my pen is out of ink today. I'm not signing a thing."
☆☆☆
-> 30 Advanced chapters Now Available on Patreon!!
-> https://www.pat-reon.co-m/c/Hollowborn
(Just remove the hyphen (-) to access patreon normally)
If you like this novel please consider leaving a review that's help the story a lot Thank you