CHAPTER 168: NON-HUMAN
Shinjuku City Park. The edge of the Amusement Zone.
Lying at the entrance to the clearing were two or three more fallen officers.
Each one had been dismantled with a cruelty that defied standard medical logic.
Jaws torn open. Tongues lolling out. Eyes ruptured. Joints twisted into
geometric nightmares. Open fractures protruding through high-end tactical
fabric.
The architect of this horror, the colossal Speck, sat on a park bench. He had
his legs crossed, leaning back as he puffed on a cigarette with casual elegance.
He wore tattered black track clothes and cheap sandals. His massive frame was
drenched in the blood of his victims. He looked at the carnage with a manic,
flickering grin.
"Hoo..."
Speck exhaled a cloud of white smoke that mixed with the metallic steam rising
from the corpses. He turned his head, spotting Ren Shiroki as the youth walked
out from the shadowed grove. His eyes sparkled with genuine delight.
"Oh ho? You're the kid from the Arena, aren't you?"
"Did the Metropolitan Police hire you? Or are you just here to collect some
'Revenge' for your friends?"
Speck's face creased into a thousand wrinkles as he laughed, his small eyes
darting around with a restless, hungry energy.
Ren prepared to answer, but a sudden, soul-shredding roar erupted from behind
him.
"GET DOWN!"
WHOOSH!
Ren dropped into a deep crouch instantly. A wounded officer from the Special
Operations Unit burst from the trees, clutching an Impact-Slug Launcher.
The man's left leg was a ruin—the femur snapped and protruding through the
skin—yet he was anchoring his weight on one leg, his face a mask of pained,
terminal resolve. He had found his opening.
"DIE, YOU MONSTER!"
He pulled the trigger.
THUD-THUD-THUD!
The "Impact-Slug Launcher" was a weapon of absolute brutality. Its muzzle energy
exceeded that of a high-caliber handgun, and its spread was wider than a
shotgun's.
It fired 800g solid steel spheres—each nearly the size of a human fist—at a
terminal muzzle velocity. Three of the slugs connected squarely with Speck's
face.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The giant's face visibly "dented" as the steel balls buried themselves into his
cheek, his forehead, and his neck.
Against a normal human, the impact would have turned the skull into powder. But
the monster known as Speck didn't even tilt his head back. He remained in his
seated position, his manic grin never wavering as his eyes locked onto the
officer.
SQUELCH.
The muscles in Speck's face began to ripple. With a sound like a wet cork
popping, his biology manually ejected the steel slugs. One by one, the heavy
balls fell to the pavement, clattering harmlessly away.
Backed by his freakish muscle density and high-speed metabolism, Speck hadn't
even suffered a nosebleed.
"Are you done? That was very energetic!"
"Oh, right. That reminds me—"
SHING!
Speck acted as if he were just continuing the conversation, but his hand blurred
backward. He had snatched one of the steel slugs from the air as it fell. Like a
Major League pitcher winding up for a fastball, he hurled the 800g sphere at the
wounded officer.
WHOOSH!!!
The slug broke the sound barrier, traveling with more kinetic energy than the
launcher could provide. The officer was in too much shock to move. In a
microsecond, his head was going to be erased.
ZIP!
Ren Shiroki lunged. He raised his arm, his palm intercepting the flight path of
the projectile.
THUD!
The "Might" of the throw nearly yanked Ren's arm out of its socket. He
back-dashed half a pace to bleed off the momentum, his fingers clamping down on
the steel ball with white-knuckled intensity. A burning heat radiated from the
friction on his palm.
Behind him, the wounded officer finally hit his limit. His eyes rolled back and
he collapsed into a dead faint.
Ren weighed the steel ball in his hand, his eyes locking onto Speck.
"Speck..."
Ren studied the giant, his expression shifting from a battle-trance to a look of
quiet, cold evaluation. "You're a bastard who treats human life like a cheap
toy, aren't you?"
"Hmm?"
Speck raised his eyebrows, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening. "A lecture?
How strange. Based on your 'Scent,' I didn't think you were the naive type."
Speck rose from the bench, stretching his massive arms until his joints popped
like firecrackers. "But it makes me happy to see you didn't bring the 'Children'
along. Revenge is a petty, boring script."
"I agree," Ren said, walking forward. His pace was light and rhythmic.
"Cosmo and Marco made their choices. They knew the risks when they stepped onto
the deck. Their fight is theirs. I'm not a 'Hero' for hire."
Speck licked his lips. "Heh... I knew it. You understand the War."
Next microsecond—
ZIP!
Speck lunged. He threw a heavy front-kick aimed squarely at Ren's jaw, intending
to decapitate him with his heel.
Ren tilted his torso back, the kick whistling past his nose.
But Speck was wrong about Ren's next move.
As Ren leaned back, he tossed the 800g steel ball into the air. He tracked its
apex with surgical precision. As his body snapped back forward, he launched a
full-power downward strike.
His knuckles caught the hovering steel slug, driving it directly into Speck's
face.
[RYU: OVERHEAD CRACKER]!
BOOM!!!
The heavy punch, amplified by the mass of the steel ball, exploded against
Speck's nose.
"Guh—!?"
Speck was launched backward, his sandals skidding across the concrete as he
fought to stabilize.
POP!
The steel ball was spat out by his facial muscles, followed immediately by a
fountain of blood. His nose was smashed, his lower face painted a deep, wet red.
"Hah... huff..."
Speck exhaled, a look of genuine shock crossing his face.
He hadn't expected an "Arena Fighter"—a man of sanctioned matches—to be able to
adapt to the "Dirty Geometry" of the street so effortlessly.
"You...!"
Before Speck could finish the word, Ren launched a high-line roundhouse kick
that caught the giant on the cheek.
[GUILE: HIGH KICK]!
THUD.
The impact was heavy, the skin of Speck's face deforming under the strike. He
stumbled three paces to the side, his nosebleed finally stopping, but the
"Dizziness" in his skull was real.
"I don't care about philosophy, Speck," Ren said, his voice dropping to a low,
dangerous rumble.
"I'm not fighting for 'Justice.' And I'm not fighting to be a 'Hero.'"
Ren tightened his fists, the veins in his forearms bulging as the [ENGINE]
hummed in his chest. His bloodshot eyes were fixed on the monster.
"I'm fighting because I'm Pissed Off."
"You hurt my friends. I don't like it. And when I don't like something, I break
it."
"Nice! Simply perfect!"
WHOOSH!
[DRIVE RUSH]!
Ren exploded forward, his body a blur of high-velocity "Might." He delivered a
heavy straight punch that slammed into Speck's face, driving the giant back
several more steps.
Speck's surprise vanished. In its place was a thick, cloying aura of prehistoric
bloodlust.
"This struggle... it's born of your 'Self,' isn't it?"
Ren ignored the comment. He launched a left-straight "Suppression" jab that hit
Speck's bloody face again.
[LUKE: RISING THRUST]!
BAM!
The punch didn't just hit; it disrupted Speck's counter-swing. The second steel
ball he'd been hiding in his palm was knocked loose, clattering onto the
pavement.
Speck didn't even try to pick it up. He dove forward, aiming to catch Ren's head
in a crushing clamp.
Ren caught the movement. He ducked, letting the giant's arms close on empty air,
then launched a double-knee strike into Speck's solar plexus.
BAM! BAM!
Speck staggered, but he didn't fall. He lashed out with a kick that moved faster
than the human eye could track.
ZIP!
Ren's [ENGINE] saved his life. He performed a micro-adjustment, slipping the
kick, though the toe of the giant's boot grazed his shoulder, drawing a line of
blood.
Ren reset his stance. He stood ten feet away, his breathing a steady, lethal
pulse.
Speck wiped the blood from his face, looking entirely refreshed. His eyes were
glowing with a manic, unyielding hunger.
"Come on then, kid!"
Ren beckoned with a hand, a wolfish grin splitting his face.
"I want to know which of us is MIGHTIER!"
☆☆☆
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