CHAPTER 92: THE TERRIFYING MIRACLE
The Final Weapon of Karate—Katsumi Orochi—let out a low, predatory growl, signaling his victory.
"The night is mine, Shiroki-san."
Katsumi settled into a deep side-stance, his lead arm and leg extended, his guard forming a perfect, geometric barrier. His eyes, once playful, were now cold and focused.
"Wrestling, CQC, Kung Fu, Karate... Shiroki-kun, everything you've learned is top-tier. You've touched the 'Divine Realm' in every style."
"I don't look down on a man who masters many arts. I've studied the ancient styles myself."
"But at the end of the day, I live for Karate. I pour every drop of my soul into its exploration. I seek its 'Completion.'"
Katsumi looked Ren in the eye.
"You are different. You aren't just 'absorbing' the essence of these styles. You are literally Learning their forms as separate entities."
"That is your greatest strength... and your fatal weakness."
"Because you have no 'Core Pillar'—no foundation like my Karate—all those moves are just floating in your head. They aren't connected. There are micro-gaps in your transitions. Your rhythm has 'Holes.'"
"And for a man like me? Those holes are wide enough to drive a truck through."
"Fall!"
ZIP!
Katsumi didn't wait for a reply. He exploded forward, abandoning the "Testing Phase" for a full-commitment offensive.
Straight punches, snapping kicks, horizontal elbows, driving knees, hand-blade slashes—he launched into a terminal high-speed flying kick.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
A blizzard of strikes rained down on Ren Shiroki. Blood sprayed across the deck as the "Final Weapon" systematically dismantled Ren's guard.
Initially, Ren could cope. He parried the strikes and fired back with sharp counters. But as the combination extended into the twentieth and thirtieth frames, he was forced into a total defense. He was retreating step-by-step, his guard being shredded piece by piece. It was only a matter of time before he was cracked open.
"This is bad!"
Fusui Kure gripped the railing, her eyes wide. She saw the technical logic. Katsumi wasn't saying Ren was a mere "copycat." He was saying Ren had "Learned Too Much."
It was a terrifying talent, but a dangerous one. Without a "Main Pillar" to anchor the styles, the transitions between a Ryu-style punch and a Zangief-style grapple left a microscopic window of vulnerability.
Against a standard fighter, those windows were invisible. But against Katsumi Orochi—an elite among elites—those gaps were a death sentence.
"Ren-chin knows the danger," Fusui muttered, her brow furrowing. "He's trying to understand the 'Will' behind every move so he can bridge the gap. But he hasn't had the time!"
"Master Orochi has been training since he could walk. Ren-chin... he's only had two weeks of real training."
Hearing this, Hikoichi Yagyo tilted his head. "Only two weeks? Surely you jest, Fusui-dono. Look at his mass. Look at his technical execution. That is the result of years of grinding."
Fusui shook her head grimly. "Years ago, Ren-chin was diagnosed with CTE—Punch-Drunk Syndrome. He was a cripple. He only 'recovered' a few weeks ago."
"Wait... Punch-Drunk?" Yagyo's eyes sharpened.
"Indeed," Kyara growled from the side. "Chronic brain damage. Micro-hemorrhaging of the gray matter. It's a biological dead-end. There is no cure for a brain that has begun to rot."
Kyara looked at Ren on the monitor. "A man who survives that, and then achieves this level of power in fourteen days... the recovery itself is an impossibility. It defies every law of medicine."
Fusui blinked. Under the influence of Arisa's manic optimism, she had treated Ren's recovery as a "Miracle." But listening to Kyara, she realized the truth.
A body—specifically a Brain—capable of that kind of miracle was a biological anomaly on par with Katsumi's "Genius."
"Ren-chin's brain... just what is happening inside his skull?"
BOOM!
Katsumi finally found the gap. He swatted Ren's guard aside and delivered a heavy kick to his thigh.
He didn't stop. He followed up with a second kick to Ren's solar plexus.
Each strike was higher and heavier than the last. Ren doubled over, trying to minimize the target area.
Katsumi seized the momentum. He planted a boot on Ren's shoulder, using the "Might" of his weight to launch himself into a jumping knee that caught Ren squarely in the face.
THUD!
Ren's head snapped back, blood spraying in an arc as he stared up at the moon.
Using his momentum, Katsumi jumped even higher. He reached the apex of his arc, looming directly above Ren, and brought his left elbow down in a vertical hammer-strike.
BOOM!
Ren's face took the full force of the blow. He crashed into the deck with a thunderous roar, his pupils vibrating wildly. His jaw hung slack as he entered a state of near-blackout. The steel deck beneath him was dented by the impact.
"Magnificent!" Atsushi Suedo roared. "Using the opponent's body as a springboard for a jumping knee-to-elbow transition! It's the 'High-Altitude Execution'!"
Even though he'd seen it before, Suedo was still shaken by the "Sci-Fi" quality of the move. To pull that off required a level of biological coordination that bordered on insanity.
Suedo swallowed hard. "Is it over?"
NO.
Katsumi Orochi didn't follow up. He had sensed something. He retreated into a defensive shell, his eyes tracking the "corpse" on the deck.
Ren Shiroki, lying on his back, suddenly braced his shoulders and one foot against the metal. His other leg whipped upward in a desperate, high-speed rising kick.
[JAMIE: LUMINOUS KICK]!
SHING!
Katsumi, having anticipated the move, slipped the kick and retreated several paces.
He looked down. A fresh tear had appeared in his white gi.
He looked back at Ren. The youth had hauled himself upright. He stood in a slight hunch, his face a mask of crimson. The blood was so thick it had covered his eyes, making him look like a phantom rising from a slaughterhouse.
"You're amazing, Shiroki-san," Katsumi said with genuine respect. "To execute a technical counter like that while unconscious... it's not just mimicry. You truly are a warrior."
"But this is where we separate. We've reached the final exchange of techniques."
Ren's arms hung low. Through the blood-soaked sockets of his eyes, a light began to glow—a cold, terrifyingly sharp intensity.
"...What?" Ren rasped, his voice a dry, pained rattle. He looked like he didn't even understand the words.
Katsumi reset his stance. He spat a mouthful of blood and grinned. "I'm saying... this is about mastery."
"If we give your 'Technical Value' a score of 1... then my Karate is at least a 1.1."
"In every individual discipline, I am at least 10% better than you."
Katsumi's gaze locked onto Ren's.
"You made the right tactical choice. You surrendered your body to the 'Art.' You've become a vessel for the techniques you've learned, moving without 'Consciousness.'"
"Wrestling, Sambo, CQC, Kung Fu, Karate..."
"You've dived into the styles, hoping they would merge into a single 'Flow' of unconscious movement."
Katsumi tightened his fists, his body vibrating with a high-frequency battle-spirit. "But I am going to attack. I am going to use my Karate—that extra 0.1 of perfection—to find the flaw in your 'Unconscious Flow' and destroy you!"
"Let's settle this with Mastery!"
Ren Shiroki stood silently, staring at the Final Weapon. His eyes flickered. Deep within the folds of his gray matter, something was shifting. The "Overdrive" was entering a new, distorted phase.
"You've got it all wrong," Ren whispered.
"Unconscious movement? Fluid integration? That's not what this is."
Ren's pupils began to tremble as the internal pressure reached its peak. A few "tears" of blood squeezed out of his eyes, mixing with the gore on his cheeks. He let out a slow, jagged grin that looked like a crack in a ceramic mask.
"What you're about to see... is an Intense Consciousness."
"A style so Unhinged it overwrites the world."