Chapter 234: Mutual Brawls and Self-Harm
"Where the hell did you losers crawl out from?!"
Sikorsky's brow was furrowed as he glared at the intruders. There were three of
them, all fully geared up with tactical blades and sidearms. They carried the
distinct scent of blood and gunpowder—professional killers, not mere thugs.
Mercenaries? Assassins?
Given his Russian mob background and the explosions echoing through the
corridors, Sikorsky quickly deduced the situation.
"A terrorist hit? How disappointing..."
He turned toward the three gunmen, his lips curling into a jagged, bloodthirsty
smirk. He radiated a murderous aura, fully intending to slaughter these
interlopers to vent his frustration.
But the three intruders suddenly widened their eyes, cold sweat pouring down
their faces.
"Hey, you're supposed to be professionals. Don't tell me you're scared of me?"
Sikorsky was confused for a second, then his entire body shivered. He felt a
sudden, heavy pressure on the back of his neck—a presence so abnormal it made
the air itself feel like lead.
He turned around. Yujiro Hanma, who had been asleep until a moment ago, was now
wide awake. The Ogre was staring at the room with a look of pure, amused
contempt.
Zip!
Yujiro pushed off the armrest and vaulted over the sofa, performing a mid-air
rotation before landing steadily on the carpet, his toes silent.
Sikorsky realized then that the hitmen weren't looking at him. They were staring
at the waking Ogre.
Yujiro's eyes shifted, scanning the room and then looking out the window at the
flashing blue lights of the police cars below.
"A bunch of idiots."
The corners of his mouth pulled back, his facial muscles forming a terrifying
mask of mockery. "Little babies, stay back. Unless you want to get blown away."
It was a cryptic, nonsensical warning.
Suddenly, his dark red hair began to stand on end, a literal manifestation of
his surging aura. Seeing this, the girls and Marco instinctively retreated,
huddling as far into the corner as possible.
Even Sikorsky felt the crushing weight of the atmosphere. He backed away several
paces, unintentionally leaving the three hitmen directly in Yujiro's line of
sight.
What happened next defied all logic.
Later, Arisa would describe the scene to Ren Shiroki like this:
"It was... weird, Niisan. Baki-kun's dad—Hanma Yujiro—it was like standing next
to a running jet engine. The air around him was literally hot."
"In front of that man, two of the hitmen suddenly dropped their guns. They
just... started beating each other up. Blood was flying everywhere."
"The third guy didn't even try to stop them. He started punching himself in the
face! He was pummeling his own head until he was unrecognizable, and he wouldn't
stop!"
Arisa crossed her arms, lost in the memory.
"I guess even though we never met our own dad, that's what a 'Scary Dad' must be
like, right? It was like they were kids who got caught breaking a vase, and they
were so terrified of the punishment that they decided to punish themselves first
before the 'Parent' could get to them."
"They beat themselves until their teeth were shattered and their faces were
swollen lumps of meat... and they still didn't stop until he told them to."
Yujiro stretched his massive frame and let out a bored yawn, wiping a tear of
amusement from his eye.
"Stop."
At that single word, the three bloodied hitmen froze mid-swing.
"A wise choice," Yujiro said, looking at the wrecks of the men. "If even one of
you had tried to run, I would have killed every soul in this room instantly."
"But if you had tried to attack me, the result would have been the same."
"Choosing a 'Bitter Meat' tactic—punishing yourselves to avoid my hands—that
shows a certain level of intelligence. I appreciate that."
"I'll spare you."
Yujiro tucked his hands into his pockets. His hair settled back down into its
slicked-back style.
The three hitmen let out a collective, visible sigh of relief. Their faces were
mangled beyond recognition, yet they looked as if they had just been granted a
miracle.
Yujiro's nostrils flared as he took a deep, appreciative breath.
"The scent of硝煙 (gunpowder)..." He strolled toward the door, his tone leisurely.
"A warzone is nothing more than an amusement park to me."
As he passed Sikorsky, Yujiro spared him a brief, sideways glance.
"Waiting all this time, agonizing over whether to strike or not... you're almost
adorable in your honesty."
"As a reward, my boy, Baki Hanma, is currently in this building. If you want a
challenge, go find him." Yujiro's tone shifted. "That is... if you can survive
this 'Urban Steel Jungle Warzone'."
"That's the 'Real Battle' you were looking for. Enjoy it."
Yujiro stepped into the hallway. "I've talked enough for one night. I'm out."
He walked straight to the elevator bank, pried the closed steel doors open with
his bare hands, and stepped into the pitch-black void of the shaft.
Zip—
Yujiro vanished into the darkness.
This was the twelfth floor. Yet, inexplicably, not a single person in the room
expected the Ogre to be injured. He would likely land on the ground floor and
simply stroll out into the Ginza night.
Thirty seconds of stunned silence passed after his departure.
The three hitmen, Sikorsky, Marco, and the four girls slowly snapped back to
reality.
Perhaps driven by the throbbing pain in their faces, the hitmen recovered first.
They turned their gazes back to Hina Hongo. They needed to secure her and escape
this nightmare building as fast as possible.
Marco and Karura tensed up, coiling their muscles for a fight.
But as the hitmen moved toward the girls, the "Killing Intent" they radiated
touched a nerve in Sikorsky.
"SHINK—!"
Sikorsky roared, his fists tightening as his middle knuckles protruded. He swung
his arms in a high-speed blur.
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
Three strikes. Flesh and bone sprayed through the air.
Using his freakish finger-grip strength, Sikorsky's [KNUCKLE FISTS] didn't just
punch; they acted like industrial grinders. On each hitman—one on the neck, one
on the face, one on the chest—a finger-thick "Crimson Canyon" of torn meat
appeared.
Splurt!
Blood geysered from the wounds. The hitmen didn't even have time to scream
before they collapsed into pools of their own blood.
"Urban Steel Jungle Warzone... is it?"
Yujiro's words echoed in Sikorsky's mind. He felt a sudden, burning sense of
humiliation. Two chances to sneak-attack the Ogre, both interrupted. Then he was
treated like a child by a man who jumped down elevator shafts for fun.
"RAAAAAAAGH!!"
He screamed in fury, his bloodshot eyes bulging. He tore off his blood-stained
trench coat, slammed it onto the floor, and stomped on it.
BOOM!
Sniffing the gunpowder in the air, Sikorsky let out a guttural growl. "Whether
it's Baki Hanma or anyone else... COME ON! FIGHT ME!!"
Zip!
Sikorsky stormed out of the room, heading into the chaos of the hotel to find a
worthy kill.
This left only the hostages in the presidential suite.
Marco raised a hand, looking at the girls. "Should we go home? Marco is getting
hungry..."
The girls nodded. As they prepared to leave, a squad of reinforcements from
IDEAL—five or six men, fully armed—arrived and blocked the exit.
Karura and Hina Hongo actually looked happy.
"We finally get to hit someone!" Karura chirped, cracking her knuckles. Both
girls dropped into their fighting stances.
But the next heartbeat—BOOM!
A massive punch whistled through the doorway, hitting one of the hitmen with the
force of a high-speed bowling ball. He was launched backward, taking out his
entire squad like pins.
The hallway was a mess of groaning bodies.
Then, a dark-skinned, massive hand gripped the doorframe. A towering,
hyper-dense figure stepped into the room.
Floral shirt, black trousers, and slabs of muscle that defied the laws of
biology—the Unchained, Biscuit Oliva!
"Oh? It seems I've arrived first after all!"
Oliva's eyes shifted to the hostages. He offered a warm smile, extending a hand
to the girls. "Please, follow me. You're safe now."
Tiny, bean-sized scabs from shotgun pellets were visible on his skin, though the
bleeding had already stopped. The sight was incredibly intimidating, triggering
Hina Hongo's battle instincts.
She didn't wait for an explanation. She coiled her tendons and exploded, driving
a full-power heavy punch straight into the giant's midsection.
BOOM!!
The force of the strike was enough to pulverize reinforced concrete. It was a
lethal, "Revolutionary" blow. An ordinary human would have been punched
through—but the "Unchained" tanked the hit with his bare abdominal muscles. He
didn't even flinch. His feet didn't move an inch. Only his shirt was torn; his
skin remained unbroken.
Hina felt like she had just punched the side of a steel skyscraper.
"Mm," Oliva arched an eyebrow in appreciation. "That was a powerful strike. I
suppose 'being kidnapped' was just a game to you girls, wasn't it?"
Hina didn't answer. Her starry eyes glowed with intensity as she realized she
was facing a true "Monster."
Just as she prepared to throw her life away in a desperate scramble, Marco and
Karura stepped up beside her.
"Is this... 'Fighting Side-by-Side'?" Hina blinked, her expression darkening.
"It feels... nice. Almost human."
But Marco stepped in front of them, arms outstretched.
"You guys run. Marco is going to get serious!"
Marco bared his teeth at Oliva. "Don't worry! Marco won't lose! Marco will beat
the Muscle-Monster in the floral shirt with the... uh... slightly thinning
hair!"
Muscle-monster in a floral shirt with thinning hair—
Oliva's eye twitched at the description.
He turned toward the hallway, spotting Ren Shiroki and Fusui Kure arriving. He
pointed at his head and shouted, "It's a buzz-cut! A tactical buzz-cut, you
brat!"
Ren and Fusui: "..."
The Hub owner and the Kure assassin shared a long, silent look before turning
back to the giant.
Ren and Fusui: "...?"
(End of Chapter)
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