CHAPTER 174: BARRAGE! BARRAGE!! BARRAGE!!!
Motobe Izo, the Master of Real Combat, kept his eyes glued to the struggle
below, his voice a low hum of technical appreciation as he spoke to Fusui Kure.
"A brush with 'Death' can trigger a momentary miracle—the phenomenon common
people call the 'revolving lantern' or the 'life-flash.'"
"In that razor-thin window between life and the void, a warrior's concentration
can reach such heights that the world seems to freeze. They can see every
variable. They can navigate a terminal fall from a mountain cliff and walk away
without a scratch."
"But honestly... why would a sane man choose to jump off a cliff in the first
place?"
Motobe let out a sudden, sharp laugh.
"I suppose if an opponent's 'Barrage' is as dangerous as a fall, then 'Sparring'
with them is the only logical way to train!"
BAM! BAP-BAP-BAM!!
Speck's face was a mask of twisted muscle. He swung his massive arms like
pistons, a manic frenzy of heavy punches raining down.
But the "Wrongness" he had felt earlier was intensifying.
It was like a heavy downpour of rain, but there were "Empty Spaces" in the
storm. Holes where his knuckles should have found meat, but found only wind. Or
worse—holes where his fists were redirected by the slightest touch, making it
impossible to fully commit his weight.
"Oi... wait...?"
Speck realized that a few of his heavy straights had been guided away by the
edge of Ren's wrists. They hadn't connected with the force they should have.
"You... you still have the energy to parry, kid?!"
Speck's eyes widened. He had never encountered a human who could maintain a
"Defensive Logic" while being crushed by his Apnea Rush. Usually, people just
folded.
But for Speck, a puzzle was just another reason to hit harder.
"GYA-HA-HA-HA!"
The giant roared, lunging forward with a massive leg-sweep aimed at Ren's head.
WHOOSH!
The wind-pressure alone was a physical blade, capable of decapitating a normal
man.
Ren Shiroki tracked the movement through a veil of his own blood. He didn't
blink. He dropped into a deep knee-bend, letting the kick whistle inches over
his scalp.
THUD.
The second the leg passed, Speck's left fist was already descending. The giant
had twisted his entire 230cm frame into the follow-up, using the momentum of the
kick to add torque to the punch.
BOOM!
The strike connected squarely with the side of Ren's face.
Ren's nose ruptured. A tooth was launched into the back of his throat. His
vision blurred as his head was whipped to the side.
"Ugh—!?"
Ren ground his teeth together. Even as blood leaked into his eyes, his [ENGINE]
manual-overrode the shock. He refused to blink. He had to see. He had to stay in
the pocket.
Speck's strikes didn't have the "One-Hit Kill" mass of Hanayama, nor the "Sonic
Barrier" speed of Katsumi.
But their horror lay in the Continuity.
It was a five-minute terminal fall. If you lose focus for even one frame, the
"Might" of the rush accumulates until your biology simply ceases to function.
WHAP-BAM!
Speck fired a front-kick. Ren slammed both palms down onto the giant's ankle,
pinning the leg to the concrete for a split second.
The next punch was aimed directly at Ren's heart. Ren didn't retreat. He shifted
his torso, accepting the strike on his left deltoid, using his muscle density to
take the hit.
...Good!
The pain was a white-hot iron in his chest, but Ren's logic remained cold.
I can handle this. I can read these two vectors!
Block, deflect, slip, redirect. No matter how savage the rush, it was still just
meat hitting meat. And Ren possessed the "Will" to master that dialogue.
BAP! BAP! BAM!
Speck threw a three-hit combination to Ren's face. Ren's features were
physically distorted by the impact, another tooth fragment flying into the
night. But his eyes stayed locked on Speck.
"HEI—YA!"
Speck swung a horizontal roundhouse toward Ren's neck.
At that micro-second, Ren's focus reached the absolute apex.
Now!
SHING!
Ren swung a left hook—not at Speck's head, but at the giant's raised left shin.
The high-speed strike caught Speck's leg mid-swing. The impact caused the
giant's momentum to hitch, creating a "Freeze-Frame" opening that lasted only
a millisecond.
But a millisecond was all the [ENGINE] needed.
Ren anchored his rear foot. The over 36 trillion cells in his body aligned
behind a singular, shared wish. He pulled his right fist back and released.
[STRIKE AT THE APEX]!!!
THOOM!!!
Ren's fist buried itself in Speck's face. A shockwave of pure kinetic energy
erupted.
The heavy, metallic boom of the impact rolled across the park, echoing off the
trees and the dark Ferris wheel.
Shinjuku District. Park Perimeter.
Blocks away, Baki Hanma was walking hand-in-hand with Kozue.
The Champion's ears twitched. He felt a vibration in the soles of his feet—the
distinct "Rhythm" of a high-level strike.
He stopped, looking back toward the dark center of the park. His eyes sparkled
with a competitive heat.
"Incredible," Baki whispered. "Shiroki-san is really letting it out tonight."
The Amusement Zone.
The punch to the face had physically broken the rhythm of the two-minute
continuous rush.
"Guh—!?!"
Speck's head was whipped back. He staggered, his heavy sandals skidding across
the concrete as he fought for balance. Blood geysered from his nose, his eyes
vibrating from the concussive trauma.
Dangerous!
Speck reacted on instinct, raising his massive arms in a reinforced cross-block.
He expected a follow-up blitz.
But it didn't come.
Ren Shiroki remained where he was, gasping for air. He turned his head and spat
a mouthful of bloody saliva. His blood-soaked eyes stared directly through
Speck's guard.
"Was it... too much for you, kid?" Speck wheezed, his grin returning as he
rubbed his aching nose.
"That was a hell of a hit. But beneath my rush... you're already reaching your
limit, aren't you?"
Ren wiped the gore from his mouth. His clothes were shredded, his body a map of
purple hematomas and red lacerations.
He tightened his trembling fists and let out a raspy whisper.
"I don't have the 'Might' to break a God, Speck. My fists don't have that kind
of poetry."
"But they're definitely strong enough to Win."
"Hee!"
Speck let out a manic shriek. "Then let's test that theory, kid!"
He took a massive gulp of air, refreshed his system, and lunged. The second
round of the Apnea Rush descended on Ren like a landslide of iron.
Ren's pupils quivered. He triggered the [ENGINE], manual-overriding every trace
of "unconscious" movement. His focus was absolute.
No problem. This is entirely manageable.
The strikes I've learned... the vessel I've forged... the 'Craft' I hold...
I will use everything I am to navigate this storm!
A heavy straight? Deflect with the wrist. A downward hammer? Meet it with a
counter-punch. A front-kick? Duck low. A roundhouse? Jump—or take it on a
non-vital point!
BAM! THUD! CRACK! BAP!
The second rush passed the three-minute mark.
But this time, Ren was taking significantly less damage. He was no longer just
surviving; he was finding the gaps in the static. Aside from a fresh nosebleed
and a cracked rib, he was holding the line.
ZIP!
Ren slipped a punch, jumped, and planted the sole of his foot squarely on
Speck's descending fist. He used the giant's own "Might" to vault higher into
the air.
He rotated mid-flight, making as if he were going for a flying kick, but then
aborted the move, landing gracefully behind the giant.
His parkour agility was like a desert wind—impossible to pin down, yet present
in every corner of the fight.
"!?!"
Speck swung at the empty air where Ren had been a frame ago. The "Stiffness" of
the missed strike left him wide open.
Ren lunged. He didn't use a combo. He launched a second [STRIKE AT THE APEX].
THOOM!!!
His fist buried itself in Speck's cheek. The 36 trillion cells fired in unison,
the explosion echoing through the Dome.
Speck's biology was a fortress. Even a strike that had pulverized a 150kg
sandbag didn't put him down. He ignored the bone-cracking impact, took another
greedy breath, and lunged again.
"SEI—YA!"
Ren slipped the punch, used a foot-stomp to bat the giant's wrist aside, and
pivoted his torso. He launched a third "Apex" strike.
BOOM!!!
Ren's knuckles hammered into the center of Speck's face, squeezing fresh blood
from the man's features.
Speck's world was a blur. His eyes were glazed. He swung wildly, but Ren was a
ghost—slipping or batting away every strike with the clinical efficiency of a
machine.
WHOOSH!
A fourth "Apex" strike. It connected squarely with Speck's chin.
Ren wasn't fighting a God. He wasn't performing a ceremony. He was simply
hitting a target until it broke.
SOUL VS. CARACAL. THE SEEKER VS. THE CONVICT.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Motobe Izo watched from the hill, his eyes bright. "Fascinating... his
understanding of the 'Rhythm' has reached the Divine Realm."
"Hoo—!"
Speck took a final, desperate breath. He prepared to launch a third wave of the
rush.
But he never got the chance. Ten seconds into the next barrage, Ren "Dissected"
the rhythm. He fired a series of punches and kicks that tore through the giant's
tempo, creating a terminal opening.
Ren vaulted into the air, his leg rotating in a vertical blade-strike that
caught Speck squarely in the face.
[DRIVE IMPACT: EAGLE BLADE]!
Speck staggered, his vision fading. Through the haze, he saw Ren pull his right
arm back for the fifth time.
Ren lunged.
THOOM!!!
The [STRIKE AT THE APEX] slammed into Speck's nose, flattening the features and
launching the giant backward.
"Keep it coming!"
Ren Shiroki was covered in blood, but his spirit was reaching its boiling point.
He was seeing a thousand different ways to break the monster.
His parkour steps had adapted to the "Apnea" environment. He was a fish in the
water, untouched by the lethality of the rush.
"It's not enough!"
Ren stalked forward, his voice a hungry roar.
"Come on, Speck! Hit me again! SHOW ME MORE!!"
☆☆☆
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