CHAPTER 30: A NEW WILL
Hikoichi Yagyo. Referee Number Two of the Kakerou Club.
The title "Referee" was literal: one who adjudicates a gamble. While their personalities and methods varied, every member of the Kakerou elite shared a single, burning desire: to witness.
They wanted to witness a clash where intellect and absolute violence merged into a singular point of destiny.
Intellect alone was never enough. Might was the very lifeblood of a gambler.
Without the "Might" of the police, society would dissolve into a cycle of theft and murder. No one bows to a "Power" that lacks the teeth to enforce its will. A tiger made of paper scares no one.
In the world of the high-stakes gamble, violence was the ultimate stabilizer. Only those with equivalent might—or those protected by a higher authority—were qualified to negotiate. Without it, the "Winner" was simply a sheep waiting to be slaughtered by the "Loser."
The higher the stakes, the faster morality vanished once the chips were down. Might was the only thing that kept the planet rotating.
Yagyo continued his duties, standing silently in the corner of the office. But internally, he was beginning to feel a flicker of boredom.
"The Lie Eater's side lacks the necessary teeth..."
Putting aside the temporary alliance, the only person truly standing with Baku was Kaji Takaomi. Anyone with eyes could see Kaji was a "normal" person. His courage was average, and his combat ability was non-existent. He was a liability.
Compared to them, the other team—the Man of the Divine Realm, Akagi Shigeru, and the youth who had dismantled a Kengan fighter, Ren Shiroki—was a far more compelling spectacle.
Yagyo let out a mental sigh. How had the Lie Eater fallen so far?
It had started on the night of his "Surmounting the Heights" challenge—the night he tried to usurp the Leader of Kakerou.
That night, on the helipad of a luxury skyscraper, Yagyo had stood as a witness.
Madarame Baku had bet everything: his fortune, his membership, and his life. The Leader, Souichi Kiruma, had bet the absolute authority of the Kakerou Club itself.
Since the club's founding, no one had ever won a challenge against the Leader.
Baku's performance that night had been... catastrophic.
The game was simple: "Predict if a flying object will pass over the building within thirty minutes." Baku bet Yes. The Leader bet No.
Baku had prepared nearly a hundred different flying objects—drones, planes, balloons—to ensure a "Yes" result. Yet, for thirty agonizing minutes, the sky remained silent. Not a single bird crossed the moon.
The men Baku had hired to launch his fleet weren't actually his. The Leader had predicted Baku's move years in advance and had seeded Baku's inner circle with moles.
Baku had lost his money, his "Might," and his very reason for existing. The Leader, finding the collection of Baku's life "boring" at the time, had allowed him to keep it... for a while.
And so, the legendary Lie Eater became a penniless ghost.
Yet, Yagyo found it hard to believe Baku would resurface for a gamble this... cheap. To put his life on the line for a mid-tier Kakerou membership and a pile of yen? It was beneath him.
Yagyo's gaze drifted toward the floor near the mahogany desk. There, lying innocently on the carpet, was a fountain pen. It looked like it had been dropped by accident.
But Yagyo's eyes were sharp. He recognized the model instantly. It was a high-frequency Audio Bug.
Q-Taro wouldn't bug his own office. Kaji didn't have the wits for it. Akagi was too detached. That left only one culprit: Madarame Baku.
Baku was broke, yet he had arrived with high-end surveillance gear. Was this entire "coincidence" actually a calculated maneuver?
A preposterous thought entered Yagyo's mind.
Is it possible that I... no, that the Leader himself and all of Kakerou have already fallen into a trap set by the Lie Eater?
It was a ridiculous theory, but Yagyo couldn't shake it. He looked at the monitors. He wondered what Baku's face looked like right now.
He's probably smiling, isn't he?
4th Floor. The Run.
"Haha..."
Mid-sprint, Baku let out a sudden chuckle. He pulled a pickled plum from his pocket and popped it into his mouth with a grin.
Kaji gasped for air. "Baku-san! What's the plan? What are we doing?"
Baku chewed happily. "The old man knows exactly where we are. It's either hidden cameras or something more precise. But it doesn't matter!"
Baku pulled out the captured M9. "Rodem is busy with Ren-chin. If we charge the fifth floor right now and put a bullet in Q-Taro's leg, we win the whole pot. He's our hostage, and the game is over."
Kaji's eyes lit up. "That's it! Let's move!"
But as they neared the stairwell, Baku's earpiece—connected to the pen-bug—crackled with Q-Taro's voice.
{ Rodem, they're moving to the fifth floor. They're coming for my room. }
{ Kill the one in front of you quickly, then come back and catch the other three like rats in a trap! }
Baku froze.
Q-Taro really was tracking them with "Perfect Information." In gambling terms, the old man was cheating. If they didn't figure out the "How," they'd be walking into a firing squad.
"How is he doing it...?" Baku muttered, his mind spinning.
"Heh. It's quite simple, really."
Akagi Shigeru reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of 100-yen coins. These were the coins Q-Taro had "lost" to them during the Mahjong game earlier. Even Kaji and Ren had some. Baku's pocket was full of them—the "loans" Q-Taro had graciously provided.
Akagi spun a coin on his thumb. "We were so focused on escaping that we ignored the most basic rule of the gamble."
"This is a game for money," Akagi said, his eyes cold. "He knew we would never leave the 'Stakes' behind. What better place to hide a tracker than in the very things we were playing for?"
Baku's eyes widened. "The coins! The trackers are the change!"
He had been overthinking the grand strategy and missed the "Amateur's Trick" right under his nose. He felt a twinge of saltiness at being beaten to the punch by the "Old Man."
"Fine! Plan B it is," Baku grinned. "We'll call it the 'Old Man Plan.'"
"Heh. Not bad," Akagi replied. "But we'd better hurry."
4th Floor Corridor.
BOOM!
A heavy impact echoed through the hallway. Ren Shiroki was launched out of the darkness, flying backward as if he'd been hit by a runaway truck.
SHIIIING!
Ren skidded across the floor, his boots sparking against the concrete before he slammed hard into a structural pillar.
"Cough—AGH!"
He spat out a mouthful of blood, his eyes locked onto the darkness ahead. He saw Baku and the others pausing.
"GET GOING!" Ren roared. "DON'T LOOK BACK!"
The three of them didn't hesitate. They knew the difference between bravery and suicide. They vanished into the stairwell.
In the hallway, Rodem emerged from the smoke. He was sprinting on all fours like a predatory beast, his mask dripping with the blood of his earlier victims. He was a demon in the flesh.
THOOM. THOOM. THOOM.
As Rodem closed the distance, Ren's vision began to blur. The pressure was astronomical. His "Mental Overdrive" kicked into its highest gear.
Time didn't just slow down; it stopped.
In the ink-wash world of Ren's mind, the phantom of Ryu was no longer alone. Standing beside him was a colossus—a man of impossible girth and height, with a scarred chest and a wild, fiery beard.
Ryu raised a hand in a silent salute to the newcomer. He stepped back, signaling the massive warrior to take over the "lesson."
The colossus stepped forward, slamming his palms together with a sound like a thunderclap. He looked at Ren and grinned, his teeth white against his dark beard.
The "Tag Out" was complete.
Ren's mind roared as the new "Will" flooded his nervous system. He felt a different kind of power—not the focused precision of the Hado, but the crushing, unyielding weight of the earth.
The Master of the Iron Body. The Red Cyclone.
"ZANGIEF!" Ren whispered.