CHAPTER 88: THE UNBOUND SOUL
On the deck, the brief chaos subsided. The remaining mercenaries, left behind like debris, were either beaten into a stupor or tossed back into the freezing harbor, too terrified to cause further trouble.
Most were terrorists under Sadakuni's command, but a few carried the cold, professional mark of IDEAL. To avoid any further headaches from the Metropolitan Police, the Leader of Kakerou gave the order: his men systematically rounded them up and secured them on the arms ship for "future processing."
Meanwhile, the Kengan Association Referee stepped forward to coordinate with Tonegawa. Given the sudden escalation, the deck hadn't been prepared as a formal ring. The Referee requested that Tonegawa's enforcers clear the debris and blood, turning the open deck into a stage.
Tonegawa gave the nod, and the "Stranger" black-suits moved with military efficiency. In minutes, the wreckage of the festival racks was gone, the spilled bourbon was hosed down, and the steel deck was scrubbed clean.
Once the work was done, the enforcers lingered at the edges, their eyes fixed on the two men in the center.
Katsumi Orochi gave a casual nod and headed to his corner to begin his final mental preparations.
On Ren's side, the youth began throwing crisp, rhythmic shadow-punches, letting his internal temperature rise. The "Might" within him was starting to hum again.
Fusui Kure watched his warm-up, her expression thoughtful. "I don't know what happened during 'That Night' he mentioned... but if this were the Katsumi Orochi from before the tournament, he'd be easy to dismantle."
"Just like Suedo. You'd blitz him before he could find his gear."
Fusui's tone shifted as she looked at the pink-haired giant. "But now? It's just like you said, Ren-chin. He has this 'Gushing' battle spirit. It's leaking out of him like steam."
"The world is full of self-proclaimed 'Geniuses,' but very few actually deserve the title. If Katsumi Orochi has truly undergone a 'Rebirth' during his recent defeats... then he is the real deal."
Ren stopped his movements, looking at her with a grin. "And what about me? Am I a genius?"
"You?"
Fusui waved her hands dismissively. "You're an anomaly, Ren-chin. You aren't a 'Genius'—at least, not in the traditional sense. You're a cocktail of random variables."
"Talent, consciousness, resilience, physics, belief... the feeling you give off is 'Indeterminate.'"
"I like it. It's light. It's fluid."
Fusui frowned, her nose wrinkling as she struggled with the description. "But regardless of the poetry, this fight is going to be hell. Don't you dare drop your guard."
Ren laughed, offering no verbal reply. He stripped off his shirt and tossed his shoes and socks to Fusui. He walked toward the center of the deck, bare-chested and barefoot, his skin steaming in the night air.
Across from him, Katsumi stood in his pristine white gi.
They met before the Referee, only one pace apart. Their eyes locked, a silent dialogue of warriors that ignored the hundred spectators surrounding them.
Madarame Baku was vibrating with curiosity. He tried to lean in and ask Kyara for his professional opinion, but the afro-haired monster gave him a glare so sharp it almost physically pushed him back. Kyara looked like he was one "annoying thought" away from another kick.
Baku sighed and turned to Hikoichi Yagyo.
As the Number Two Referee, Yagyo was a bit salty about being Baku's second choice for an expert opinion. "Baku-dono... I am merely an old man who makes a decent latte. Why ask me?"
Baku's eye twitched. "Cut the crap, Joichi-san."
Yagyo let out a soft hum. "In my estimation... Master Orochi holds the winning hand."
"Why?" Baku asked.
Yagyo spared a glance for the fallen Suedo. "Against an elite of the Shinshinkai, Ren-san relied on a 'High-Speed Blitz' to win. He caught Suedo cold. But Katsumi is the Master of the school. He won't give Ren-san the window to set the tempo. He will dictate the rhythm from frame one."
Yagyo wasn't the only one who thought so.
Kyara, Joichi Yagyo, and even the Leader of Kakerou—currently solving a Rubik's Cube behind his back—all shared the same silent consensus. Katsumi Orochi was a perfected weapon. A human in his peak biological state.
Souichi Kiruma inhaled the salt air. "It will be over quickly, I suspect."
Almost everyone with "Might" shared that view. Except for two.
Fusui and Marco were silent, their loyalty absolute. And then there was Akagi Shigeru.
The Man of the Divine Realm was leaning against a ventilation pipe, lighting a fresh cigarette. He looked entirely unconcerned.
"Akagi-san," Baku whispered. "Do you think the outcome is undecided?"
"Heh... perhaps."
Akagi blew a cloud of smoke. "But in a moment like this, it's far more interesting to look for the 'Other Possibility,' isn't it?"
While the titans discussed strategy, Kaiji Itou stood trembling at the edge of the crowd. He had less experience with this world than anyone.
"That Ren guy... is he really going to fight that monster?"
Kaiji stared at Katsumi, who had just smashed a concrete slab with his head for a warm-up. "He's going to die! Why is he still walking toward him?!"
From the sidelines, the physical disparity was clear.
Ren was slightly taller, but at 97kg, he was dwarfed by Katsumi's 115kg of hyper-dense, Shinshinkai-trained muscle.
The Referee took a deep breath, his voice booming over the ship's speakers for the third and final time tonight.
"REPRESENTING THE KAKEROU CLUB... THE FINAL WEAPON, KATSUMI OROCHI!"
"VERSUS!"
"REPRESENTING THE SOUL COMBAT HUB... THE UNBOUND SOUL, REN SHIROKI!"
Ren and Katsumi turned their backs to each other, walking several paces apart before spinning around to face off.
Ren happened to be facing the Valkyrie squad. He spotted Fusui in the front row and flashed her a sharp, confident grin.
"We've been playing together all night, Fusui. Have a little more faith in me!"
"Wha—?!" Fusui blinked, her face reddening.
The Referee raised his hand. "READY... FIGHT!!!"
SHING!
Both men moved.
Katsumi Orochi instantly settled into a textbook Shinshinkai stance. Legs wide and anchored, lead arm extended for range, rear arm chambered at the hip. He minimized his target area, his guard forming a perfect defensive shell. It was Karate perfection.
But to Katsumi's shock—and the shock of every spectator on the deck—Ren Shiroki didn't take a stance at all.
Ren threw his arms wide, his fingers curved into claws. He left his entire torso—his heart, his solar plexus, his groin—completely exposed. He simply began to stomp forward with heavy, rhythmic steps.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
"!?!"
Katsumi hesitated. He didn't understand the maneuver. Is he inviting a strike? Does he have a counter-trap?
Seeing Ren enter his "Kill Zone," Katsumi didn't waste the opening. He launched a precision straight punch aimed directly at Ren's face.
THWACK!
Ren didn't dodge. He dropped his chin slightly, meeting the iron fist with the top of his forehead—the hardest bone in the human body. The skin split, and a river of blood instantly began to pour down his face.
But Ren's forward momentum didn't stop. He walked through the punch, closing the distance until he was chest-to-chest with the giant.
"!?!"
A cold spike of terror hit Katsumi's heart. He ignored the hit?!
Katsumi tried to retreat, but it was too late. He launched a desperate palm-strike into Ren's bicep to create space. Ren accepted the blow, his arm swelling and bruising instantly, but he didn't flinch.
Ren reached down, his massive arms snaking around Katsumi's thighs. He locked his fingers behind the giant's knees.
"HRRRRAAGH!"
In the microsecond the "Grab" was finalized, Ren exploded. He slammed his feet into the steel deck and leaped. Mid-air, he used his entire 97kg mass and the momentum of the jump to flip backward, carrying the 115kg Katsumi with him in a high-speed, vertical rotation.
Ren drove Katsumi's head and shoulders straight down into the steel deck.
BOOM!!!
A sound like a cannon blast echoed across the harbor.
[ZANGIEF: SIBERIAN EXPRESS]!!!