Chapter 294: Decorating the Ring
In the town of Kure Village, the "black sclera and white pupils" of the Kure
Clan were a common sight. In contrast, Ren Shiroki and Jun Sekibayashi, walking
side-by-side, possessed no such physical anomalies.
However—
Whether it was their build, their features, their gaze, or even the way they
laughed, they were clearly distinct from everyone around them. Even ordinary
passersby who knew nothing of the underground world could tell instantly: those
two were guests of the Kure.
And they looked like absolute monsters.
Ren and Fusui on one side, Sekibayashi and Kurachi on the other—the two groups
chatted and laughed as they walked together through the afternoon sun toward the
temporary arena in the Central Plaza.
Along the way, those in the know approached them, offering high-fives and words
of encouragement, wishing these two warriors the best in their upcoming clash of
souls.
"Go for it, Ren!" "Sekibayashi, give me an autograph!"
The closer they got to the Central Plaza, the more the atmosphere heated up,
shifting from the mild warmth of a summer afternoon to the searing heat of a
blazing fire.
One block away from the arena, the Kure Patriarch, Erio Kure, along with Reiichi
and several other clan members, caught up with them at a brisk pace.
Fusui poked her head out from behind Ren, looking curious. "Grandpa? You're here
early."
Erio waved a hand dismissively. "I had no choice. I had to come help clean up
after that Brat."
There were very few people Erio Kure would call a "brat" or an "idiot," and it
was obvious he was referring to Fusui's elder brother—Raian Kure.
Fusui blinked. "What did Big Brother do now?"
"He couldn't sit still, so he rounded up a few 'intruders' to teach them a
lesson." Erio walked at the front of the group, hands behind his back, muttering
complaints. "Honestly... if he wanted to vent, he should have found a quiet
alley. The plaza is supposed to host guests—"
They turned the corner and arrived outside the Central Plaza.
The interior was still shielded by wooden scaffolding and heavy curtains. To
their surprise, about a dozen people were already waiting outside—the MPD Judo
Division and the SJPW wrestling squad.
Jose Kanzaki was among them.
Ren remembered their earlier friction and assumed they had come for an
unofficial technical exchange. He asked curiously, "Jose-kun, which side won?"
"We didn't even get to start. Someone took the field before us," Jose explained
with a helpless shrug. "We thought he'd be done quickly, but the situation
inside is... well..."
He trailed off, his expression pained. Looking at the faces of the others, it
wasn't hard to guess what he meant: It was a massacre.
Especially for the MPD Judo officers, it was an awkward position. They had to
balance their professional identities as police with the reality of the
underground world they were currently inhabiting.
"Sigh..."
Erio Kure let out a weary breath. "My idiot caused you trouble. We'll have it
cleaned up in a moment. Just wait here."
With that, the Patriarch gestured for those connected to the "Underworld" to
follow him. They ducked through the layers of curtains and entered the perimeter
of the octagon.
Ren didn't mind the gore, and Sekibayashi was a veteran of the Kengan matches.
Both men followed out of curiosity, mentally bracing themselves.
Before they even saw the ring, they smelled the iron tang of blood.
As they pulled back the final curtain, the sight was gruesome. The massive
octagonal ring was a sea of crimson. Fresh blood had saturated the sand and the
surrounding area. Over a dozen "intruders" were scattered across the canvas like
broken dolls.
Many were missing limbs, some were groaning in the final throes of shock, while
others had already ceased breathing. It was a display of pure, unadulterated
slaughter.
The architect of this carnage stood in the center of the ring. Raian Kure [The
Devil] stood knee-deep in the wreckage, his body decorated with jagged
bloodstains. He was currently clutching an intruder by the throat, hoisting him
off the ground with a demonic grin.
"This is the price for playing around in someone else's home, you pieces of
garbage!"
Raian's lips curled back, revealing sharp white teeth. "Finished your
confession? Good. Now die!"
With a violent jerk of his arm, Raian slammed the man's head into the sand.
BOOM!
The man's skull was driven deep into the floor, a spray of gore erupting from
the impact. His limbs began to twitch violently—not a struggle for life, but the
post-mortem neurological firing of a shattered nervous system. The visual impact
was sickening.
"..."
Ren and Sekibayashi shared a long, silent look.
Most of these men were IDEAL hitmen—international criminals. Falling prey to a
monster like the "Devil" was simply the "bitter fruit" of their own choices in
the underworld.
The most dissatisfied person present, however, was the Patriarch.
"Raian!" Erio roared. "You damn brat! You turned the venue everyone worked so
hard to build into a slaughterhouse! How am I supposed to host guests like
this?!"
"Kukakakaka! Don't you think the festival was getting a bit too sappy, Old
Man?!" Raian kicked a corpse aside, turning toward the group with a terrifying,
blood-smeared face.
"Everyone coming to see this ring is from 'Our World' anyway! A little blood
just sets the mood! Besides, I didn't let any of them escape, so stop nagging!"
The exchange was thick with hostility, yet to those who knew them, it was
clearly just a standard "affectionate" interaction within the Kure family.
While they argued, other Kure members began moving in with cleaning supplies.
Even for "under-worlders," this many bodies would spoil the optics of the match.
They had to clear the trash and rake the sand.
Raian's savage gaze swept the area, eventually locking onto Ren Shiroki. His
eyes narrowed into two black crescents of glee.
"Too many things were pissing me off, so I had to take a bite out of
something... but honestly? I'm still not satisfied!"
He marched up to Ren, spreading his arms to showcase the bloody ring.
"Yo, brother! I added some decorations to your stage—the kind of style I like!
It'll look even better once we add some of your blood to the mix!"
Raian held up his right hand, fingers splayed. His palm was coated in thick,
sticky crimson. He beckoned Ren for a high-five.
Ren looked at the wet gore on Raian's hand and hesitated for a fraction of a
second.
Raian: "..."
Losing his patience, Raian simply slammed his palm onto the chest of Ren's
shirt. THUD! He left a massive, perfect bloody handprint right over Ren's heart.
Ren Shiroki: "..."
Fusui Kure fumed from the side. "I picked that shirt out for him, you bastard!"
Raian didn't even look back. "Shut up, or I'll kill you too!"
The Kure cleanup crews worked with clinical efficiency. Within thirty minutes,
the bodies were gone, the bloodied sand was raked and turned to dry, and the
ring was once again level.
Ren Shiroki and Jun Sekibayashi headed to their respective "prep
corners"—secluded, curtained-off areas to finish their final warm-ups.
"Phew...!"
Ren bounced in place, shaking out his limbs. He noticed that aside from Fusui,
he had another guest in his corner: Jose Kanzaki.
"Jose-kun, shouldn't you be over there cheering for Seki-aniki?"
Jose arched an eyebrow behind his mask. "For Seki-aniki, words of encouragement
only count if they're screamed during the match. Right now, he's in the zone."
Jose paused, looking at Ren. "Shiroki-san... I know I shouldn't be the one
saying this..." He scratched his head. "But don't you dare underestimate
Seki-aniki. His Pro-Wrestling is in a league of its own. He's miles ahead of
me."
Ren couldn't help but laugh. "What kind of ridiculous thing is that to say?"
Jose blinked, confused.
Ren threw two light shadow-punches. "I have never once looked down on
Pro-Wrestling. Not when I fought you, not when I talked to Kurachi-san, and
certainly not with Seki-aniki."
Ren looked up, recalling the events of the morning.
"The fists he aimed at me... the weight of those kicks... that earth-shaking
stomp... even the crushing torque of his grip when he caught my hand..."
"Every single one of those made me realize: 'So this is how they fight.'"
"I don't see you as individuals. I see you as the collective soul of
Pro-Wrestling. You are fighters who wield that specific art, and I respect that
art more than you know."
Ren raised his clenched fists, showing them to Jose. The knuckles were white,
and his hands were vibrating with a high-frequency tremor he couldn't suppress.
"Look..."
"I'm so 'Tense' I can't even stop shaking~!"
(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