Chapter 231: Those Who Arrived
Hotel Lobby, 1st Floor.
Following the explosion on the seventeenth floor, the lobby dissolved into total
chaos. The hidden units from IDEAL and The Worm abandoned their disguises,
spreading out to search for Hina Hongo. Their objective was the chemical
weapons, so they didn't bother with the logistics of a hostage situation; they
simply locked down the first floor to ensure no one escaped while they scoured
the building.
BANG! BANG!
Two warning shots echoed through the hall, silencing the panicked crowd. The
civilians cowered in the corners while the hitmen moved among them, checking
faces.
It was in this moment of suppressed terror that a powerfully built young man
strolled through the front doors. His spiky blonde hair was impossible to miss,
and despite it being the middle of the night, he wore dark sunglasses, radiating
a bizarre, predatory aura.
Zip!
An IDEAL hitman intercepted him, pressing a tactical dagger against his throat.
"Hey! You aren't a cop. Where'd you crawl out from?"
"—Heh."
Hearing the threat, the youth's grin widened, revealing a row of sharp white
teeth.
The next second—THUD!
The youth snapped his wrist upward, swatting the dagger aside. His left hand
snaked out, seizing the hitman's throat in an iron grip. His fingers dug deep
into the muscle.
CRUNCH!
The hitman's neck was snapped instantly. His body went limp, but the youth
wasn't finished. He twisted his core and performed a violent hip-throw, slamming
the dead man into the floor.
BOOM!
The ornate marble tiles shattered upon impact, jagged cracks spiderwebbing
across the floor as blood pooled in the grout.
"Karura is having a blast, and Fusui is acting like she's in heat..."
"If everyone is having so much fun, I guess it's only fair that I get a piece of
the action tonight!"
Flick!
With just two fingers, the youth snapped his sunglasses in half, tossing the
fragments aside to reveal his eyes. They were the terrifying "Kure
Eyes"—jet-black sclera with glowing white pupils. But compared to Fusui's,
these eyes were pure, concentrated malice. One look was enough to smell the
scent of a slaughterhouse.
His name: Raian Kure (The Devil)!
Fusui's elder brother and the Kure Clan's "Taboo Descendant." Standing 188cm and
weighing 94kg, his singular talent for violence and killing intent was so
absolute that at only twenty-one years old, he had already earned the approval
of Erio Kure.
"IDEAL and The Worm? What a thoughtful bunch. It means no matter how many I
kill, there's nobody left to complain, right?" Raian raised his middle finger
and beckoned to the remaining hitmen with a demonic grin. "Come on then. Step up
and die!"
Faced with the sudden intrusion of the Kure "Devil," the criminals in the lobby
shifted their focus, some frantically calling for reinforcements. Raian welcomed
it, intentionally letting them call for backup while he delivered a brutal stomp
to another merc's chest.
Snap!
His massive hand clamped around a mercenary's throat, squeezing until the man
began to froth at the mouth, his body convulsing in a desperate, futile
struggle.
"Street Brawl? Syndicate conspiracies? I don't give a damn about any of that. I
just want to beat the life out of every single one of you!"
CRASH!
Another skull met the marble floor. Raian's eyes danced with sadistic glee as he
ignored the cowering civilians, searching for a target worthy of his hands.
Suddenly, a handsome, well-built teenager sprinted into the lobby, his presence
cutting through the tension between Raian and the criminals.
Baki Hanma had arrived.
If there was anyone in Tokyo more worried about the kidnappees than Erio Kure,
it was Baki. Kozue Matsumoto was a civilian, and the fact that Yujiro Hanma was
involved brought back a flood of dark memories. When Baki was thirteen, he had
befriended the Yasha Ape, only for his father to murder the creature just to
mock Baki's weakness.
What was Yujiro planning this time?
Baki's eyes swept across the carnage in the lobby. He frowned, his gaze locking
onto the stairwell. As he moved, several IDEAL hitmen stepped into his path.
But the boy's patience had reached its absolute limit. He didn't waste words. He
unleashed a primal roar:
"—NONE OF YOU MOVE!!"
The roar carried a physical weight, a surge of concentrated battle aura that
paralyzed the criminals where they stood. It even drew a look of genuine
interest from Raian.
"Aha! Baki Hanma?"
Raian studied the "Champion." He had seen him from a distance at the Tokyo Dome,
but they had never spoken.
"Is the 'Champion' here to rescue his princess?" Raian taunted casually.
Baki ignored him completely. His only focus was Kozue. He vanished into the
stairwell in a blur of speed.
Raian didn't take offense. He was a "Problem Child," sure, but he was still a
Kure; he would fulfill his part of the mission.
"Hee-hee... I'll play with him later!" Raian cracked his neck, the sound like
rapid-fire gunshots. He locked his black-and-white eyes onto the remaining
hitmen. "Don't just stand there. Round two!"
Stairwell.
Ren Shiroki, Fusui Kure, Ohma Tokita, and Kazuo Yamashita continued their
ascent.
Along the way, Ohma had been briefed. He now knew the kidnapping had been
started by Sikorsky, then hijacked by IDEAL and The Worm, and that Yanagi Ryuko
was nowhere to be seen.
"So even though it was a death row convict, we're chasing the wrong guy?"
Kazuo's legs were vibrating so hard they were almost a blur. "Ohma-san, what
do we do? Should we leave?"
"I'm staying to help," Ohma replied calmly. "When lives are on the line, those
who can fight must fight. That's the rule of our world, right?"
"Ah..." Kazuo wiped his brow, feeling a strange sense of comfort. "Ohma-san...
even though you're a terrifying fighter, you really are a good person deep
down."
"Save it, old man," Ohma looked at the scrawny manager. "You could have run a
dozen times, yet you're still here. You've got 'Guts'."
"A-Ah! Thank you—" Kazuo started to feel better.
Then Ohma added with a bloodthirsty smirk, "Besides, a battle like this is the
perfect chance to test my limits!"
Kazuo Yamashita: "..."
Yep, Ohma-san's world is still scary as hell.
In the hotel's layout, the 17th and 18th floors were banquet halls and
restaurants. They were wide-open spaces filled with furniture and
pillars—perfect for a siege.
The quartet climbed past the wreckage of the 17th floor and finally reached
the 18th. They had found the epicenter of the crisis.
The hostages were being held in a large utility room. The mastermind—the hooded
man—was sitting on a folding chair in the corner of the hall, casually smoking a
cigarette. A mountain of butts lay at his feet.
Seeing the newcomers, the man spat in disgust. "Hmph. Boring. I guess I'll have
to kill a few hostages to get some attention."
He stood up, leveling a tactical shotgun with his right hand as his left pulled
back his hood.
Under the fluorescent lights, a face of pure horror was revealed. He was a
middle-aged Westerner, his face a map of jagged scars. Most terrifying was a
deep, twisted trench of a scar that ran from the side of his right temple all
the way down to the corner of his left eye.
"You lot must be the 'Concerned Citizens'?" The man didn't hesitate. He aimed
the shotgun at them. "I only want Oliva. Get in the utility room with the others
or I trigger the C4."
Ren, Fusui, and Ohma began calculating. They were seconds away from moving when
a sound echoed from above.
THOOM!
Something incredibly heavy had just slammed into the roof of the building.
Then—BOOM!
The second impact was even louder, the entire skyscraper groaning as if an
earthquake had struck.
THUD!
The sound of a massive weight hitting the floor above.
Then, the ceiling exploded.
KRA-KOOM!!!
With a deafening roar, the reinforced concrete floor of the 19th floor was
pulverized. A massive hole opened up, raining rubble and dust down on the 18th
floor.
A figure dropped through the hole, landing with a sound that shook the
foundations of the building.
Ren looked up. Through the jagged hole in the 18th-floor ceiling and the
matching hole in the 19th-floor ceiling, he could see the night sky. A military
transport helicopter was hovering directly above the building.
The realization hit them all.
This man hadn't used the stairs. He hadn't used the elevator. He had jumped from
a helicopter, used his own body mass to smash through the roof, and then punched
through the floor of the 19th floor just to reach the 18th faster.
Who in the hell could do that?
The dust began to settle, revealing a towering, mountain of a man. He stood in a
relaxed, bare-handed posture.
"Good night, ladies and gentlemen—"
The man's voice was elegant, refined, and possessed the smooth baritone of a
gentleman.
"I am... Biscuit Oliva."
(End of Chapter)
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