Chapter 305: A Rare Good Time
CRASH-CLATTER!
Doyle slammed into the back of the souvenir stall, his 190cm frame reducing the
wooden structure to splinters. He lay flat on his back amidst the wreckage,
retching blood. His grocery bags had burst, scattering water bottles, towels,
and canned rations across the pavement in a messy heap.
"Gah... hk...!"
Doyle gasped for air, but the blood pooling in his throat forced him into a
violent coughing fit.
The commotion sent ripples of panic through the festive street.
"―!!" "A fight?! Someone's getting killed!" "Is that Shiroki-kun? Who's the
other guy?" "Whoa, look at the blood! This is getting wild!" "Is it a thief?
Someone call the Kure!"
The surrounding crowd broke into a frantic chatter. Several Kure members on
patrol immediately moved in to maintain order. They efficiently diverted the
ordinary civilians away from the alley mouth, cordoning off a wide space of open
asphalt.
The other Kure disciples and underworld insiders in the crowd didn't leave. They
retreated to the perimeter, watching with predatory interest.
"Who's the redhead?" "Never seen him. Doesn't look like a guest. Why is he
scrapping with Ren-kun?" "Hah! Beat him into the dirt!" "Hey, someone bring me a
beer! This is better than the fireworks!"
With the civilians gone, the screams of terror were replaced by the roars of a
bloodthirsty audience. The atmosphere was amped.
Ren Shiroki loved this. Even without an official octagon, a spontaneous street
brawl with a high-level audience felt like a massive stroke of luck.
"Why aren't you smiling anymore, Doyle-aniki~?"
Ren strolled forward, his eyes locked onto the mangled figure in the wreckage.
He looked down with a gaze that was both cold and intensely curious.
Doyle finally managed to snap his consciousness back into focus after that
initial heavy punch.
"――――!!"
He spat out a mouthful of blood and half a shattered tooth. Cold sweat mingled
with the gore on his face. He bared his teeth in a jagged snarl. "You... you
really can... perceive it all...!"
Doyle tried to scramble for a piece of debris to use as a shield, hoping to buy
a second of recovery time. But when he looked up, Ren's right boot was already
descending.
[ZANGIEF'S POWER STOMP]!
BANG!
Doyle crossed his arms in a desperate guard, barely tanking the first hit. He
used the impact to propel himself into a backward roll, clearing a meter of
distance to avoid the follow-up.
BOOM!
Ren's second stomp hit the pavement, leaving a clear tread-mark in the concrete.
"Hah... Phew..."
Doyle's arms were numb from the shock. His fingers were trembling so hard he
could barely form a fist. He looked up to speak, but Ren had already reset.
Ren's calves coiled, and he launched into a high-speed charge.
[DRIVE RUSH]!
WHOOSH!
Ren closed the gap in a heartbeat. He stopped a single pace from Doyle and
lifted his leg as if to launch a roundhouse kick. Doyle instinctively tensed his
muscles, pulling his guard tight to block the incoming shin.
But the next micro-second—Zip!
Ren didn't kick. He used the momentum of the lift to pivot on his grounded foot,
performing a full 360-degree rotation that carried him deeper into Doyle's inner
circle.
[DEE JAY'S WAVERING STEP]!
The high-speed feint left Doyle completely exposed. His guard was misaligned,
his upper body a massive opening for a grapple.
"―Eh?!"
ZIP!
Ren's hands shot forward, clamping around Doyle's head.
Doyle reacted with pure trauma-fueled reflex. His ring finger twitched, and the
surgical blade in his left wrist snapped out. He lunged his arm upward,
intending to carve a line through Ren's bicep to force a release.
To Doyle, Ren's move was suicidal. In a close-quarters clinch, a modified cyborg
with blades in his joints held the ultimate advantage. Or so he thought.
WHIRL!
Ren didn't go for a knee. He used the mechanics of the Muay Thai clinch to
violently shake Doyle's head from side to side. He destroyed the convict's
equilibrium, causing the rising wrist-blade to miss its mark by several inches.
Ren abandoned the idea of a knee strike—too dangerous to be that close to his
chest-bomb, he calculated. Instead, he twisted his entire core and performed a
massive overhead toss behind him.
[SAGAT'S TIGER THROW]!
The brutal Muay Thai slam sent Doyle hurtling through the air. He hit the
pavement with a thunderous BOOM, the shockwave making the spectators jump.
"Ren-kun's 'Street Style' is way more savage than his ring performance...!" "Is
the redhead a cyborg? Did you see that blade come out of his arm?"
Ren rotated his shoulders, looking back at the owner of the destroyed souvenir
stall. "Sorry about the mess. Send the bill to Raian Kure's estate."
With that, he turned his attention back to the convict.
Doyle lay prone, the impact having rattled his modified joints to their limits.
His back was arched in pain, his long limbs twitching uncontrollably.
But as Ren approached, Doyle moved. ZIP!
He flicked his wrist, launching a handful of metallic sequins and trinkets he'd
snatched from the debris. It was a makeshift blinding attack.
Ren had anticipated the dirty trick. He performed a rhythmic back-sway to the
left, shifting his right foot to the rear.
[DEE JAY'S STAYIN' COOL]!
Whoosh!
The agile Kickboxing footwork allowed the debris to whistle harmlessly past his
face. Ren didn't wait to reset; he linked the sway into a forward lunge,
dropping his weight to drive off the floor.
[JUGGLE RUSH]!
Zip!
The maneuver lacked the raw power of a full Drive Rush, but the transition speed
was absolute. Doyle was still on one knee, struggling to rise, when Ren was
already in his face.
Ren's expression turned demonic. He bared his teeth, putting every ounce of his
torque into a rising kick. Using his hip as a pivot, his toes traced a perfect
lunar arc through the night air.
[JAMIE'S TEN-SEI-KYAKU]!
BANG!
Doyle took the full force of the blow to his solar plexus. He was hoisted off
the ground, his lean frame suspended in mid-air. He let out a ragged, agonizing
shriek, retching blood.
A crimson mist sprayed into the air.
Ren sidestepped a half-pace, keeping his centerline rigid. He locked onto the
falling Doyle and fired a high-speed rising uppercut.
[CAMMY'S SPIKE ARROW]!
POW!
The fist caught Doyle on the jaw. He was launched vertically into the sky,
performing a full mid-air rotation before crashing back-down on the pavement for
the third time in two minutes.
BOOM!!!
"GUUGH—!"
Doyle shrieked in agony. Blood and saliva sprayed from his mouth as his vision
blurred. He couldn't find his breath.
Terrified of another follow-up, he triggered his final defense. He twitched his
fingers, snapping the blades out from his elbows, wrists, and knees
simultaneously.
Zip! Zip! SHINK!
The convict's long limbs flailed against the ground, carving jagged silver arcs
in the darkness. He became a living "Hedgehog" of steel, creating a lethal
perimeter to prevent Ren from getting close.
Ren stood two paces back, his hands on his hips. He waited with predatory
patience for the convict to stop his frantic struggle.
"Mm..." "Hah... Phew... Hah..."
When Doyle finally exhausted himself, his movements slowing to a crawl, Ren
suddenly launched a low sweep. He didn't hit Doyle; he kicked a pile of
shattered souvenir fragments across the asphalt.
[RASHID'S ARABIAN CYCLONE]!
ZIP!
A small cloud of jagged shards was launched forward, pelting the prone Doyle.
The sharp fragments sliced across his face, opening half a dozen fresh cuts. One
shard caught him right on the eyelid, causing him to clamp his eyes shut with a
scream of pain.
"WAAAAAH!"
He scrambled onto all fours, crawling frantically away from Ren, desperate for a
second to breathe.
Ren decided to give him a hand.
[DRIVE RUSH]!
WHOOSH!
Ren was on him in a heartbeat.
As he prepared to launch a finishing kick, the prone Doyle suddenly drove a
single arm into the ground. He performed a backward leg-sweep, the hidden blade
in his heel snapping out to carve through Ren's shins.
Clearly, Doyle had been waiting for the pursuit. He was tanking the pain of his
injuries just to set up one last, lethal trap.
But Ren had already leaped.
[SATSUI CHOICE]—READ!
Ren's eyes glowed with a golden light that left two burning trails in the dark.
He twisted his core mid-air, his legs snapping back down to the pavement with a
thunderous stomp.
SLAP!
Ren found his footing instantly. He launched a heavy right boot into Doyle's
backside.
[DRIVE REVERSAL: REVERSE RUSSIAN KICK]!
BANG!
The high-torque wrestling-style kick launched Doyle forward. He slid across the
pavement for several meters, the friction erasing the skin from his chin and
chest.
"Aaargh! DAMN YOU!"
He clutched his bleeding jaw, his body arching in pain.
But despite the damage, the movement had successfully reset the distance. Doyle
turned around, gasping for air. Seeing Ren closing in again, he puckered his
lips and spat a massive volume of blood directly at Ren's face.
The classic "Blood Blindness" trick!
Pfft!
The warm crimson spray washed over Ren's face.
[ENGINE]—MAX OUTPUT!
Ren's pupils vibrated violently. He forcibly overrode his biological reflexes;
even with blood coating his eyes, he refused to blink. He stayed perfectly
focused on the red-haired monster before him.
"Doyle-aniki. You said you wanted to taste defeat. You said the only way to
satisfy your soul was to give everything you have and still have your victory
snatched away."
"That's why you use every dirty, unscrupulous trick in your book to 'Win'."
"I don't mind that philosophy. Because I'm 'Unscrupulous' in my own way too—"
Ren's eyes were a map of red veins now, radiating an ominous, high-voltage light
as he stalked toward Doyle. The scene had taken on a distorted, terrifying
quality.
"But the difference is... I don't use every trick to 'Win'."
"I use them to find Combat."
Ren continued his march. His battle aura was now a physical weight, warping the
air around him as it reached out to consume Doyle. There was no escape.
The spectators swallowed hard in unison.
He's not even a bad guy...
Ren Shiroki was a friend to the Kure. He was acknowledged by the Saint of War.
He had shared drinks and laughter with everyone at the banquet. Ren Shiroki was
a "Good Guy."
But right now, seeing him loom over Doyle, he radiated a sense of "Impact" and
ferocity that was purely demonic. It was a presence entirely separate from daily
life or even a standard Kengan match.
It was the ultimate proof of his existence as a warrior.
"Haha... hahahaha!"
Ren's lips pulled back into a shark-like grin. His eyes shifted, taking in the
perfection of the night.
"The night is beautiful. The moon is perfect. The crowd is hyped. The arena is
huge. And my opponent... he has his own unique 'Strength'!"
He counted the blessings, his excitement red-lining.
"Heh... heh..."
Ren's face was smeared with blood, his muscles tensed to the point of rupture.
He locked his sight onto Doyle.
"What a magnificent time to be alive!"
"I REALLY FEEL LIKE DOING ANOTHER ROUND!!!"
(End of Chapter)
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