Chapter 228: Battlefield Readiness
The main lobby of the luxury hotel was a sea of marble and golden light.
Ren Shiroki and Fusui Kure walked side-by-side through the crowd, looking for
all the world like a couple of enthusiastic tourists enjoying a night on the
town. They spoke no words to each other, yet their eyes were constantly moving,
identifying and locking onto several suspicious figures. Some were IDEAL hitmen;
others were mercenaries from The Worm.
In Ren's field of vision, the ink-wash lines of the Hub swirled violently. They
didn't obscure his sight; instead, they heightened his focus to a supernatural
degree.
I can see them—
The details that were meant to be hidden—the elements that signaled
"Danger"—stood out like beacons in the dark.
Callouses on index fingers... old blade scars on the backs of hands... the
unnatural tension of hidden musculature... the bulge of weapons at the waist...
the predatory gazes and the heavy, controlled breathing of professional killers.
How was he doing it?
It wasn't magic. He had simply arrived at an answer: Ren was viewing this moment
as a "Match," and he was using that combat state as his new "Daily Life." By
blurring the boundary between training and reality, his body was no longer
catching up to a threat. It was already there.
Pecs, arms, shoulders, legs—every fiber was tuned, waiting for the bell to ring.
This... is a real battle.
Ren felt centered. He sank deeper into this new "Normal," his breathing growing
shallow and relaxed as he blended into the environment.
The ink-washed phantom of the young woman in the military leotard flickered
through the crowd, appearing and vanishing with ghostly grace. She watched Ren's
state, her voice cold, analytical, and sharp:
[Combat sometimes brings death. A battlefield guarantees it. Even so, we choose
to fight. Why?]
[I fight to protect the innocent. To preserve the order of the world.]
[But for you? You seek only the peak. You wish to experience the entirety of
existence through the fist.]
The phantom of Cammy White wove through the tourists, lingering for a heartbeat
beside a hidden mercenary before dissolving into a trail of ink.
[Whatever your purpose, if it is a choice you have made with a clear soul, then
the battle has meaning.]
[If you wish to survive this warzone, my advice is this: first, ask yourself
exactly what you are willing to die for.]
Ren listened to the lecture, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips.
"Understood... Sensei."
[S-Sensei?!]
The phantom jerked, causing the surrounding ink-wash to ripple.
[Don't say such ridiculous things! I—]
She habitually moved to refuse the title, but her gaze caught the silhouettes of
the other Masters standing in the shadows of Ren's mind. After a moment of
silence, her resolve softened.
[Fine. Whatever.]
[You're a walking collection of openings, Ren Shiroki. But you have a way of
drawing people in. You possess something I lack.]
[I don't teach those without potential. Face these trials. Refine your
techniques in the heat of a real battle.]
Ren's eyes shifted, trying to track the phantom "Sensei," but he was still a
fraction of a second too slow to keep up with her speed.
However, he began to synchronize with her rhythm, further adapting to the
"Battlefield."
For example: If the man passing by suddenly throws a lead hook—I'll drop into a
low spin, using Jamie's [Freeflow Strike] to sweep his legs and counter with a
rising palm.
If the figure in front of me launches a snap-kick—I'll drive a knee forward to
enter his inner-circle, then unleash Sagat's [Drive Impact: Tiger's Retribution]
to shatter his jaw.
If someone attempts a rear-naked choke from the shadows—I'll spread my arms and
pivot my entire mass into Zangief's [Double Lariat]!
And if someone pulls a blade... or a handgun... then...
Ren felt the potential energy coiling in his muscles. He visualized every
scenario, forcing his body to memorize the "Correct Response" for a thousand
different deaths.
...Not enough!
Ren bit his lip, thinking through even more chaotic variables.
If I'm surrounded... if blades come from every direction at once... HA! That
would be a crisis worth solving! I'd have to give everything!
"—Heh."
Despite his attempt to look like a normal tourist, Ren couldn't stop the corner
of his mouth from curling up. He felt a surge of pure, high-voltage
exhilaration. It wasn't just a "mood"—his biology had fully committed to the
"Warzone."
Fusui Kure noticed the shift immediately. Her black-and-white eyes blinked
behind her goggles.
This wasn't a "Martial Arts state." This was a "Kill-or-be-Killed state." It was
the ultimate preparation for the chaos to come.
"Ren-chin... did you just shift gears?"
Fusui checked her phone, scanning the latest tactical updates. "You're right to
be alert. If it was just Sikorsky, Arisa and the others could handle it. But
with IDEAL and The Worm involved, the math changes."
"Marco is too soft-hearted. Karura is still a student. Hina Hongo can't protect
everyone if things get messy. There's real danger here."
As she spoke, Fusui noted that the hidden hitmen in the lobby had shifted their
formations again. They were becoming more aggressive, more "pointed" toward each
other.
"The Shinshinkai's evacuation and the MPD's perimeter units haven't gone
unnoticed," Fusui whispered. "IDEAL and The Worm are losing their patience.
They're just waiting for a spark to start the war. We have to be ready to move
the second it happens."
She paused, taking a breath. Since spending more time at the Hub, Arisa's
optimism had started to rub off on her.
"Then again... Grandpa's elite units, the police, Baki-kun, and those 'Soldiers'
Motobe-sensei mentioned... combined, that's a hell of a relief force."
"Plus, Sikorsky isn't working with the syndicates. That's a point in our favor."
Fusui's finger swiped across her screen, pulling up the hotel's blueprints.
"According to his records from Evansk Prison in Siberia, Sikorsky is an
old-school brat. He'd likely spit on organizations like IDEAL or The Worm. He's
here for his own ego."
Upper Floors, Presidential Suite.
On the sofa by the window, Yujiro Hanma sat with his eyes closed, seemingly
adrift in thought.
The girls and Marco were resting in a corner of the massive room. Sikorsky stood
by the door, looking bored and restless. He had been waiting for the "Rescue
Party" for quite some time.
"I should have left a map with the address," Sikorsky grumbled, his face
clouding over. "I wanted to provoke them effectively, but the Tokyo police are
even more incompetent than I imagined."
He glanced at the grandfather clock, then leaned down, staring at Kozue with a
mocking smile. "I just had a thought... why do I need to bother with the brat
Baki at all?"
Sikorsky stood up straight and let out a long, theatrical sigh.
"Right here in this room... isn't there a man the world worships? The so-called
'Strongest Creature on Earth'?"
"—Should I make my move now?"
Sikorsky put his hands on his hips, feigning indecision. His tone was playful,
but his eyes were fixed on the back of the man on the sofa.
勇次郎 didn't respond. He didn't even twitch. After several seconds of silence,
Sikorsky snorted. "Hmph. No answer? You really have zero motivation, don't you?"
Sikorsky leaned against the wall, separated from Yujiro by a single, empty
armchair. His right leg muscles were visibly coiled, a lethal amount of torque
building up, perfectly masked by the angle of the chair.
Karura and Hina Hongo saw it instantly. Sikorsky intended to kick the armchair
into Yujiro at point-blank range to seize the initiative.
"Um..."
Hina Hongo blinked, her starry eyes looking at the convict. She offered a small,
quiet warning: "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Sneak attacks are... well,
they're very dangerous for the one doing the attacking."
Sikorsky froze, feeling genuinely insulted that a teenage girl was pitying him.
He gave a cold, dismissive laugh. "Fine. I'll pass then."
It was, of course, a lie.
The next second, Sikorsky's right leg snapped up, intending to launch the chair
like a missile at Yujiro's head—but at that exact microsecond, a thunderous
explosion rocked the building. The entire hotel shuddered violently.
BOOM!!!
The deafening roar of the blast coincided perfectly with Sikorsky's foot
touching the chair.
The girls and Marco stared at Sikorsky with wide, shocked eyes. "Whoa! That was
incredible! How did you do that?!"
Sikorsky: "..." Sikorsky: "...Huh?"
He slowly retracted his leg, staring at the armchair, then back at his own foot.
He gave the chair a confused little poke with his toe. Nothing happened.
Seeing the girls looking at him with genuine awe, Sikorsky's brow furrowed. He
waved his hands frantically.
"Don't look at me! I didn't do that!"
(End of Chapter)
☆☆☆
-> 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