CHAPTER 34: TABLES TURNED
Unlike a standard "Superman Punch" or a Karate kick, the Pro-Wrestling style flying kick emphasizes the inertia of the body's rotation in mid-air. It condenses the fighter's entire weight and kinetic force into the point of the heel.
It is a "Whipping" effect that strikes with the force of a falling anvil.
[ZANGIEF: CYCLONE WHEEL KICK]!
BOOM!
Ren's heel slammed into the side of Rodem's head.
Back in the fifth-floor office, Q-Taro heard a sharp crackle of static through the speakers, followed by the screen splintering into a mosaic of digital snow. Ren's kick hadn't just rattled Rodem's brain—it had crushed the high-end body camera mounted on his harness.
In the final split-second before the feed cut out, Q-Taro saw a flash of silver hair. Akagi Shigeru, the Man of the Divine Realm, leveled his M9 at the reeling monster and pulled the trigger.
"Farewell, Rodem."
BANG!
The shot fired, and the monitor went pitch black.
Q-Taro could no longer see his "piece" on the board. He had no way of knowing what Rodem saw in his final moments. But then again, Q-Taro didn't care. Rodem was just a tool—a high-performance biological weapon. When a tool breaks, you simply look for a replacement.
Rodem's eyes were a ruined mess, corroded by the acid powder. His vision was a blur of searing white pain and thick red fog.
But as the handgun fired, the brief muzzle flash injected a sliver of light back into his world.
Predatory instinct flared one last time. Rodem's brain, forced into a corner by the threat of death, triggered a rapid-fire sequence of memories—a "revolving lantern" of his short, violent life.
In that heartbeat, the demonic hunger vanished from his eyes. They became unnervingly clear and pure.
For a second, Rodem was gone, and Marco returned.
He remembered.
He remembered being a small, starving boy sitting in the ruins of a village. Around him were the corpses of his family, slaughtered by mercenaries. He remembered a man walking through the smoke, reaching out a hand, and taking him away.
The man had given him food. Then he had given him drugs. Then he had told him to kill.
But killing is wrong... isn't it? Marco had thought.
Under the crushing pressure of Q-Taro's abuse, Marco's brain had fractured. It created "Rodem"—a persona born of trauma, designed only to kill so that Marco wouldn't have to bear the guilt.
But Marco didn't understand the science. Under the weight of the experiments, his identity had dissolved. Now, facing the end, the boy only had one question echoing in his mind:
Who am I? Marco? Rodem? Who was I supposed to be?
5th Floor. Office.
Q-Taro stared at the black monitors. The speakers hissed with empty static. Silence filled the room.
The old man's face was a mask of disbelief. "Rodem... was actually defeated?"
"..."
After a long pause, Q-Taro looked at Yagyo Hikoichi. "Referee... have I lost?"
Yagyo shook his head slowly. "The victory conditions are clear: either the Lie Eater or the Man of the Divine Realm must exit the building, or you must stop them. The game is still in progress."
"I see..." Q-Taro's tone shifted. A playful, twisted smirk returned to his face. "Of course. There is still hope."
Yagyo's eyes twinkled with a hint of malice. "Of course, if you choose to forfeit now, the victory will be decided between the other two teams."
SHING!
Q-Taro's cane-sword was out in a flash, the tip hovering inches from Yagyo's throat.
"Forfeit? Don't be ridiculous! You're right—I still have hope!"
Q-Taro's face contorted with rage. "This gamble has no formal rules. That means if the Referee—the only witness—vanishes from this world... then no one can say I lost!"
"I keep my money. I keep my membership. It's a clean slate. Am I right, Yagyo-san?"
When a gambler loses everything, they usually try to flip the table. Q-Taro was no exception.
Yagyo, the silver-haired gentleman in the three-piece suit, slowly opened his eyes.
"The logic is sound. However... I suggest you reconsider."
"DIE!"
Q-Taro didn't wait. He gripped the hilt with both hands and swung the blade down in a vertical cleave, aiming to split the Referee's skull.
But as the blade reached a point exactly two centimeters from Yagyo's forehead, it stopped.
Yagyo had raised his right hand. With just three fingers—his thumb, index, and middle—he had caught the razor-sharp steel.
No matter how much Q-Taro strained, the blade wouldn't budge. It was as if it were locked in a vice of solid iron.
Yagyo's expression remained serene. His movements were the height of gentlemanly grace—a lethal piece of art.
"A Kakerou Referee is more than just an adjudicator," Yagyo said softly. "We act as intermediaries. We handle the affairs of members—which include high-ranking bureaucrats, warlords, mercenaries, and underworld kings."
"We are hand-picked for a reason."
Yagyo pivoted his torso slightly, releasing the blade.
SWISH!
The cane-sword whistled through the air where Yagyo's head had been a second ago. The old man had already drifted to the side.
"How could a Referee be defeated by a common killer who has lost his mind? If we couldn't handle 'Absolute Might,' we wouldn't be qualified for the job."
THWACK!
Yagyo delivered a crisp front-kick to Q-Taro's gut, sending the old man stumbling back. Before the sword could hit the floor, Yagyo's foot blurred again, kicking the hilt mid-air.
SHNG-STUCK!
The cane-sword flew across the room and buried itself deep into the concrete wall, the blade sinking in up to the crossguard.
"..."
Q-Taro stood there, paralyzed with shock. He had heard the rumors that Kakerou Referees were monsters, but he had dismissed it as myth. Now, he was looking at an old man who moved with the speed of a thunderbolt.
Just then, a voice echoed from the shattered doorway.
"Heh. The Referee is quite the powerhouse. This Kakerou game is getting better by the minute."
Yagyo gave a small, respectful bow to the newcomer.
Q-Taro turned. It was Akagi Shigeru. He hadn't left the building; he had returned to the office.
"What are you doing here?" Q-Taro gasped.
Akagi lit a cigarette and gave a thin smile. "I'm here to finish the bet."
Q-Taro's fear turned back into rage. "You! You're just a gambler! You don't have the Referee's moves!" He lunged for the sword stuck in the wall.
But as his hand reached for the hilt, a dark shadow erupted from the hallway. A heavy boot slammed onto the sword's pommel.
BOOM!
[DRIVE IMPACT]!
Ren Shiroki had arrived. He kicked the sword so hard it didn't just bend; it was driven even deeper into the structural concrete, pinning it there forever.
Ren looked at Q-Taro, his eyes cold. Akagi blew a cloud of smoke, his gaze detached and judging.
Q-Taro's mind raced. He realized he was outmatched. "Wait! Listen to me!"
He put on a desperate, greasy smile. "Akagi-san! Shiroki-kun! Let's make a deal! Forget the membership! Forget the cash! I'll give it all to you! Just help me kill the Lie Eater!"
"If we take out Baku, we can use his momentum to climb to the top of Kakerou together! I have mercenary connections! I have a weapons-smuggling network! I am a valuable asset!"
The two men remained silent.
"Think about it!" Q-Taro shouted, pointing at Ren. "I've never seen a human who could match Rodem's power! With your 'Might' and my 'Industry,' we could rule the underworld! We can kill Baku together! It'll be easy!"
Ren glanced at his earpiece. Fusui Kure was still on the line.
"Rodem was your son, right?" Ren asked tonelessly. "You just saw us 'kill' him. And now you want to partner with us?"
"Son? Hah!" Q-Taro waved a dismissive hand. "I needed a test subject. I raided war-torn villages, killed the parents, and took the kids. Marco was the only one who didn't die during the 'rewriting' process. He was a successful experiment, nothing more."
Ren touched his earpiece. "You hear that, Fusui? Your evaluation was spot on."
"What?" Q-Taro blinked.
Ren reached out and grabbed Q-Taro by his expensive silk lapels, lifting the old man clean off the floor.
"Fusui and I agree," Ren growled. "You're a piece of human garbage."
"Wait... stop..." Q-Taro's legs kicked uselessly in the air. He looked at Akagi for help.
Akagi simply tapped his ash, his eyes filled with a profound, soul-deep disappointment. "So that's it? You weren't gambling at all. You were just using 'Power' to satisfy a petty urge for murder."
"You aren't a gambler, Q-Taro. You're just a coward who likes to pull wings off flies."
"Let him go, Ren-chin. He's boring now."
Madarame Baku appeared at the door, Kaji trailing behind him.
Ren dropped Q-Taro. The old man slumped to the floor, gasping for air.
"Lie Eater..." Q-Taro wheezed. "You're walking into a trap... Akagi's muscle will kill you next..."
"Haha! Q-chan, you really are a sweetheart, worrying about me," Baku laughed, popping a pickled plum into his mouth.
His tone shifted, becoming sharp and cold. "But you're still trying to change the subject. You've killed so many people in this tower. How do you plan on paying the tab?"
"The rules of this game are simple: either Akagi-san or I must 'step out' of this building. Or we die here."
Baku pulled out a handgun and tapped the barrel against his own temple.
"Which means... I can kill you right now, and then play a game of tag with Ren-chin to see who leaves first. Right, Yagyo-san?"
Q-Taro broke into a cold sweat.
Ren stepped forward and gave Q-Taro a rough shove, sending him stumbling toward the office door. Baku fired a round into the floorboards an inch from Q-Taro's toes.
BANG!
Q-Taro shrieked and scrambled out into the hallway. He looked back into the room. Five pairs of eyes—including the Referee's—were watching him with predatory interest.
"Run, Q-chan!" Baku cheered. "It's your turn now! Let's see if you can escape 'our' building!"
As the sound of Q-Taro's frantic footsteps faded down the hall, Baku turned to Ren.
"By the way, Ren-chin... I left the 'big fight' to you, but are you really sure you can take Rodem down if he gets back up? He's a biological freak, after all."
Ren shrugged, a sharp, confident grin splitting his face.
"I don't know," Ren murmured. "But I know one thing..."
"I really don't feel like losing tonight."