CHAPTER 153: THE GATHERING OF TITANS
The assassin lay facedown in the dirt, blood pooling around his head. His body gave one final, pained twitch before he succumbed to unconsciousness.
Sikorsky shook out his hand, looking at Metsudo Katahara.
"A dangerous old fox, aren't you? Purposely letting the killer close just to see if my fist was still sharp?"
"Well?" Sikorsky raised an eyebrow. "What is your diagnosis, Chairman?"
"As everyone can see," Sikorsky smirked, "I am the one holding the superior hand."
Hearing this, Kosho Shinogi rolled his wrists, a lethal grin spreading across his face. "Oi. You talk a lot for a dead man. Want to see if your fingers can keep up with a 'Cord-Cutter'?"
He prepared to take his stance, but Doppo Orochi stepped in front of him.
The Grandmaster walked over to the fallen assassin, lifting the man's head to inspect the damage.
"Hmm... yes, I see."
Doppo tossed the body back to the guards and raised his own fist. He slightly extended the middle knuckle of his index finger.
"That destructive force... you're using the Ippon-ken, aren't you?"
"You use the protrusion of the knuckle combined with your finger-grip strength to 'Hook' the flesh. You aren't punching; you're manually excavating the target's face. Slice, slice, slice."
Doppo let out a delighted cackle. "Impressive. To scale a missile silo with bare hands requires a grip like a hydraulic press. You've turned your fingertips into armor-piercing rounds!"
Sikorsky's eyes narrowed. He looked at Doppo. "And you? You're acting quite comfortable. Were you waiting for me to make the first move?"
Doppo scratched his bald head, looking bashful. "Well, you seemed so eager to introduce yourself. I didn't want to steal your spotlight. Chivalry, and all that."
Sikorsky let out a low chuckle. "Chivalry... what a quaint word for a toy."
ZIP!
Sikorsky lunged, throwing a high-speed punch at Doppo. It missed.
The Russian froze, his eyes wide with shock.
I missed? Why?
He checked his reach. He was in the optimal zone. He had been 100% accurate. Yet his knuckles had hit nothing but air.
Doppo offered a look of mock-pity. "Take it easy, kid. There are too many people in the room right now. Let's not rush the main course."
Nozomi Tenma sat in a corner of the VIP tiers, her heart hammering against her ribs.
The general audience had cleared out, but the people who remained were a rogue's gallery of the world's most dangerous individuals.
Mitsuyo Kureishi leaned in, whispering to her. "Nozomi-chan. If the air gets too thick for you, you can leave. I won't judge."
"No," Nozomi said, her voice steady despite the sweat on her brow. "Thank you, Senpai. But I need to see this. If I'm going to run a league in this town, I need to know what the 'Peak' looks like from the start."
"Besides... I'm a fighter. I'm curious."
She scanned the arena.
Ren Shiroki and Kureha Shinogi were sitting in the front row, side-by-side. Medics were field-patching their wounds while they rested, their eyes fixed on the center of the pit.
But they weren't the only ones.
To the right sat Kaoru Hanayama and Chiharu Shiba.
To the left sat Heihachi Furumi and Takeshi Wakatsuki.
In the far corner, Seishu Akoya and Shunsuka Hiyama sat in a tomb-like silence.
Near the entrance, Hideki Nogi and Kaede Akiyama were observing the shift in the political landscape.
In the back tiers, a group of men with black-and-white eyes—the Kure Clan—watched from the shadows.
And then... there was the "Guest of Honor."
A tall Westerner with long blonde hair and a radiant, refined aura sat in a private booth. Behind him stood The Caracal, Billy Greco.
Across the arena, in a secluded alcove, sat the massive figure of Dorian, humming a soft nursery rhyme to himself.
"..."
Nozomi felt like she was suffocating. Masters, assassins, convicts, CEOs, and titans. The sheer density of "Might" in the Dome was enough to warp gravity.
Sikorsky looked at the floodlights, his smile widening.
"The scent is much stronger now that the cattle have left. The air is thick with the aroma of blood that hasn't dried."
Metsudo Katahara let out a sharp, happy cackle. "Interesting! Very interesting! It's been decades since I felt this kind of heat in my bones!"
Tokugawa stood at the edge of the pit, his expression grave but his spirit soaring. He could feel the blood of his ancestors vibrating. Tonight was the reason the Underground Arena existed.
Ren Shiroki wiped a smear of blood from his eye, looking at Kureha. The doctor was currently massaging his own left bicep, his brow furrowed in thought.
"Something's wrong," Kureha muttered. "Even with my density... I shouldn't have felt that 'Explosion' in my arm. Your strikes have a lingering vibration."
Ren grinned, feeling the weight of his own knuckles.
"It's a prototype," Ren explained. "I'm calling it [SOUL STRIKE: THE APEX]."
"I took the internal energy of my Kung Fu master, the 'Hado' of the Grandmaster, and the 'Iron' of the Russian. I tried to forge a strike that hits the hardware and the software at the same time. It's still rough, but... it has kick, doesn't it?"
Kureha nodded, a look of clinical respect in his eyes. "If you need data on human trauma to refine it... call me. I'd love to see how it looks on a fresh target."
Ren thanked him and looked back at the ring.
The "Irrelevant" audience was gone. The stage was set.
Tokugawa and Metsudo stepped into the center of the sand, with Sikorsky trailing behind them.
Then, four more figures emerged from the shadows of the entrance tunnels.
Dorian, looking as serene as a monk.
A middle-aged man with a thin, poisonous expression (Yanagi).
A massive, bald brute with a manic grin (Speck).
And a tall, elegant youth with shaggy red hair (Doyle).
The Five Death-Row Convicts.
"Welcome..."
Tokugawa's voice was a whisper, but it carried to every corner of the Dome. He was trembling with a manic, holy excitement.
Sikorsky scanned the other four convicts, then looked at the crowd in the VIP boxes. He turned to Tokugawa. "You called us here?"
"No. Not me," Tokugawa grinned, his eyes wide.
"What called you to this pit was the scent of the blood embedded in these walls. And your own nature as predators."
"Again... I welcome you!"
Tokugawa picked up a megaphone, his voice booming as he addressed the titans in the ring and the legends in the stands.
"Before we begin, I want to ask you all a question. Think carefully—"
"Why did you come to this city?"
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