CHAPTER 150: STRIKE! STRIKE!!
Drip... drip... drip...
Blood flowed freely from Ren Shiroki's face, staining the white sand of the pit in a rhythmic, expanding pattern of dark crimson.
Kureha Shinogi's Dashin strikes had been perfect. Ren's chest, face, and abdomen felt like they were filled with boiling lead, the fluids in his body vibrating in a high-frequency storm.
The crowd could hear his breathing—a wet, raspy rattle that smelled of copper.
This was exactly what Kureha had predicted.
Including Ren's refusal to fall.
But what the doctor couldn't comprehend was why Ren's body had stopped trembling.
It violated every principle of human medicine. Under that level of trauma, the nervous system should be firing involuntary spasms as a survival reflex. Even a veteran like Baki Hanma wasn't immune to his body's own honesty.
A true warrior feels the pain. They might ignore it, they might overwrite it with will, but the body still "speaks." That dialogue between the spirit and the flesh is what allows a fighter to adjust their strategy. If you lose the ability to feel your own vessel, you lose the ability to pilot it.
Ren Shiroki was not a "Lesser" fighter. He was an elite.
Which meant he felt every micro-second of the agony.
So why is he as still as a statue?
Kureha stared into Ren's eyes. Through the vibrating, bloodshot pupils, his vision seemed to pierce into the youth's very core.
It's the brain!
Ren's cognitive output was so intense, his [ENGINE] so high-performance, that he had manual-overridden his own biological tremors. He was forcing his muscles to be still through sheer electrical dominance.
Can a human mind really sustain that level of activity? Kureha wondered, his lips thinning. If he were a student, he'd be a once-in-a-generation academic prodigy...
But there was another mystery bothering the doctor.
Why are my muscles shaking?
Kureha's "Super-Physique" was a masterpiece of biological engineering. His muscle fibers were different from a normal human's; simple movement didn't even raise his heart rate. He was like an F1 race car—if he didn't run at high RPMs, the engine would stall. To Kureha, even a three-minute "Iron Cross" hang was just a warm-up.
So he couldn't understand the cold shudder running through his frame.
Is it my body... refusing to be hit again?
"Haha! That is some legendary grit!"
Doppo Orochi leaned back, his arms crossed. "Kureha is powerful, but he can't finish the job. His 'One-Shot Kill' strategy with the Dashin failed because he couldn't put Ren-kun on the deck."
The Grandmaster gestured to the ring.
"In terms of raw damage, Kureha is winning. He's taking Ren-kun apart piece by piece. But Kureha has a hole in his armor. He can't stop Ren-kun's targeted strikes. His left deltoid is a ruin, and Ren-kun is going to keep hitting it until it falls off."
Doppo let out a jagged grin.
"Neither of them can land a 'Final Blow' yet."
"So, it's a war of attrition. Stamina versus Will. Whoever is left standing when the clock hits zero is the king."
"But..." Doppo sighed, his expression turning somber. "In a war of attrition, the man with the 'Super-Physique' usually holds the better cards."
[ENGINE] — OVERDRIVE!!!
Ren's pupils were vibrating at a lethal frequency. The red veins in his eyes looked like glowing chains. His mind was screaming, but his body was a silent, lethal machine.
Kureha's precision strikes had done their work. Ren felt like he was about to explode. His ribs were groaning, his lungs were heavy, and the world was spinning.
If the [ENGINE] sputtered for even a second, he knew he'd collapse and never get back up.
This is it. The final burst.
"HRAA!"
Ren lunged. He didn't use a standard dash. He used a low-profile, forward-tilting charge.
[LUKE: AVENGER]!
The move was designed to be unpredictable, a high-speed blitz that brought the fighter into the opponent's blind spot. But because Ren was obsessively targeting the same spot, Kureha read the trajectory easily.
SHING!
Kureha launched a low-line jab that buried his knuckles into Ren's ribs. He drove them in, the "Might" of the strike threatening to pierce the skin.
Ren gritted his teeth, his face a mask of bloody defiance. He didn't retreat. He used the impact to pivot, deriving a high-speed shoulder-check from the Avenger stance.
[AVENGER: NO LOOKING BACK]!
BOOM!
The tackle slammed into Kureha's left bicep.
The instant Kureha was shoved back, Ren unleashed a two-fisted barrage. He ignored the bone-deep ache in his cracked ribs, his fists blurring into a whirlwind of violence.
Kureha sensed the shift. He let out a low bark and fired a full-power straight punch.
THUD.
The iron fist hit Ren's chest, but Ren didn't fly back. He caught the blow on his braced forearm, using a rotational "Rolling Guard" to bleed off the kinetic energy while staying in the pocket.
ZIP-ZIP!
Two lightning-fast crosses landed squarely on Kureha's deltoid.
Kureha's jaw tightened. The muscle was screaming now. He launched a mid-level roundhouse to force Ren back.
Tap... tap...
Ren back-dashed, resetting his distance. He immediately began a rhythmic, high-frequency shuffle, circling toward Kureha's left.
He knew he couldn't land a "Kill Shot" in this match.
To win, he had to pour his entire soul into his own rhythm. He had to hit Kureha until the "Might" of the doctor's body was overwritten by the "Will" of the fighter.
WHOOSH!
BAM!!
Fists crossed in the air. Both men took hits.
Fighter's Strike vs. Doctor's Strike.
Precision Anatomy vs. Targeted Destruction.
Biological Warfare vs. Absolute Combat.
Ren was covered in purple hematomas. Kureha delivered a wide, open-palm slap that nearly removed the skin from Ren's cheek, causing half his face to swell instantly.
But Kureha's left arm was failing. The deltoid was no longer a shield; it was a bloody, swollen mass of ruptured tissue. Deep purple internal bleeding was spreading across his shoulder.
In terms of sheer "Grit," the two were now equal.
"REN!"
"KUREHA!"
The two monsters let out a simultaneous roar that shook the Dome.
Kureha's eyes darted, searching for the final anatomical weak point to end the match. But his focus was shattered by the look in Ren's eyes.
Those scarlet, vibrating pupils were locked onto one thing. The Target.
In that heartbeat, Kureha had a biological premonition.
He's going to hit it again!
My arm... it's about to break!
Whether it was the cumulative trauma or a psychological error, Kureha felt his left arm "explode" before Ren even moved. The phantom pain was so intense it forced a micro-second of hesitation.
"GAHH!"
Kureha flinched, his eyes darting to his own shoulder.
That was the only opening Ren Shiroki needed.
WHOOSH!
[DRIVE RUSH]!
Ren dove forward. He didn't hold back. He launched a right hook that slammed into Kureha's left bicep.
BOOM!
The strike was the final straw. Kureha's guard was physically blown open. Ren followed through with a second right straight.
THUD!!
The fist buried itself in Kureha's chest. Ren didn't pause. He stepped half a pace forward, adjusting his distance for the finale.
"SEI—YAH!"
BOOM!!!
Kureha's body was jerked backward. His jaw was exposed.
FINISHER—[LUKE: ERASER]!!!
BAP! BAP! BAM!!!
Ren unleashed an alternating flurry of heavy crosses. It was a tsunami of knuckles that overwhelmed the doctor's consciousness.
Ren poured the last of his stamina, the final spark of his [ENGINE], and every ounce of his battle-spirit into one ultimate right hook.
The strike connected squarely with Kureha's unprotected mandible.
THOOM!!!
The "Perfect Body" was launched into the air. The Muscle Fortress crashed into the wooden railing, shattering the heavy timber before bouncing back onto the sand.
"..."
THUD.
Dr. Kureha Shinogi's eyes went vacant. He collapsed face-first into the dirt, unconscious.
☆☆☆
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