Chapter 242: From the Battlefield back to the Ring!
Sikorsky had first seen Ren Shiroki on the opening day of the Kengan
Annihilation Street Brawl at the Tokyo Dome.
As a gesture of respect toward the "Opening Match," Sikorsky had specifically
looked into the details of Ren's battle against Dr. Kureha Shinogi. At the time,
he hadn't thought much of it. To him, Ren was just a man who used a barrage of
consecutive strikes to break through a fitness doctor's vanity muscles.
He was just a sports athlete—nothing more!
Sikorsky had imagined that if they ever met in the winding alleys of the city,
he would have a thousand ways to end Ren Shiroki's life.
But now, the two of them were deep within the interior of a high-rise hotel—a
complex urban warzone that should have favored the Russian convict. Yet, the
reality was proving to be a nightmare for him. Facing the unconventional tactics
of the man who had brought down the wrestling "Hero" Alexander Gallen, Ren was
responding with absolute composure, even using Parkour to neutralize Sikorsky's
finger-grip climbing.
"..."
Sikorsky performed a fresh tactical evaluation.
He's strong. And it's that terrifying, unpredictable kind of strength!!
Seeing Sikorsky rooted to the spot, Ren lowered his center of gravity, a smirk
playing on his lips. "Hesitating? Then allow me to take the lead."
Ren's calves coiled like heavy-duty springs before exploding.
[DRIVE RUSH]!
WHOOSH!
Ren lunged forward in a blur. Sikorsky focused entirely, timing a lead-leg
snap-kick to intercept the charge.
Zip!
But in the heartbeat before the contact, Ren drove his heel into the floor,
killing his momentum instantly. He leaned his torso back, letting the kick
whistle past his nose.
Sikorsky's strike missed, leaving his flank wide open. Ren stepped in, twisting
his waist and channeling the torque of his entire core into a focused straight
punch.
[DRIVE IMPACT: SHOCKWAVE]!
THUD!
The high-torque Karate straight slammed into Sikorsky's side. The convict let
out a pained wheeze as he was launched laterally through the air.
"Tch...!"
Sikorsky ground his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead from the sheer agony.
He managed to stabilize his body mid-air, performing a desperate tactical roll
upon landing. Clutching his side, he scrambled around a corner, stumbling
through the narrow hallway.
Parkour, Wrestling, and now Karate?
The style was shifting too fast; it was impossible to predict the next move!
This was fundamentally different from a traditional martial artist. It was like
facing a mob enforcer with an endless bag of tricks, yet there wasn't a hint of
cowardice in Ren's movements. Everything Ren used—even the most unorthodox
maneuvers—were refined combat techniques!
"Phew...!"
Sikorsky exhaled a cloud of hot breath. As he fled, he caught a piece of debris
with the tip of his boot, flicking it backward with a sharp snap.
Zip!
The fist-sized chunk of masonry whistled toward Ren's head. Ren let out a low
grunt, his hand-sword snapping down to pulverize the stone mid-air.
Sikorsky used the distraction to round a corner, entering a much more cramped
maintenance corridor.
Stomp—
He vaulted off the wall, his fingers catching the steel support beams of the
overhead ventilation ducts. As Ren rounded the corner, Sikorsky's face contorted
into a mask of malice. He calculated Ren's head position and twisted his core,
unleashing a dual-leg spinning heel-kick.
Zip-zip!
The strikes were heavy, aimed with enough force to snap a human neck. But as he
swung, a cold chill ran down Sikorsky's spine. He realized Ren wasn't going to
fall for such a simple ambush. He desperately retracted his power, trying to
pivot his hips.
He was right. As his left leg swept across, it was met not by a head, but by two
downward-swinging hand-swords. Ren had stopped at the corner, coiling his arms.
His core tightened as he brought both "blades" down simultaneously.
WHOOSH!
[DRIVE IMPACT: RUSSIAN DOUBLE CHOP]!
If Sikorsky hadn't pulled back in time, his left tibia would have been snapped
like a dry twig. Even so, the twin hand-chops caught his calf, making him bared
his teeth in a silent scream of pain. He could feel his shinbone spiderwebbing
under the impact.
In a moment of desperation, Sikorsky's right hand gripped the ventilation duct's
support beam while his left snatched the beam in front of him. He yanked
downward with his entire 100kg weight.
CRASH-RUMBLE!
The entire section of the industrial ducting was torn from the ceiling. Steel
frames and insulation material rained down on Ren Shiroki in a cloud of dust and
metal. Ren raised his arms to block the debris, closing his eyes and holding his
breath to avoid the grit. It gave Sikorsky a heartbeat to breathe.
The convict hung from the remaining ceiling supports, suspended above the
swirling cloud of dust.
"This is my world! Not a ring!" he wheezed, staring down with predatory
intensity. "In a place like this, I have just as many ways to kill you as you
have to hit me!"
"In fact... you're the one at a disadvantage!"
"..."
The dust settled. Ren Shiroki opened his eyes. He stood amidst the wreckage of
the ventilation system, jagged steel frames scattered around him. He had taken
only minor scratches on his forearms.
"That sounds wonderful," Ren mused, spitting out a bit of grit. "If that's the
case... why didn't you follow up your attack?"
Sikorsky sneered in response.
Hmph—
He couldn't exactly admit that his leg hurt too much and he was becoming
terrified of the youth's counters.
Just keep fighting!
Sikorsky gritted his teeth and suddenly dropped from the ceiling, leading with a
flying knee.
Zip!
Ren drove his right foot into the floor, coiling for a rising uppercut. He
locked onto Sikorsky's movement, a sharp glint appearing in his eyes.
[SATSUI CHOICE]—READ!
The impulse from the Hado suggested a Shoryuken to counter the flying knee. But
as Sikorsky's left forearm tightened, Ren saw the muscle fibers shift. The
convict's center of gravity changed mid-air. The initial "Killing Intent" of the
knee strike vanished.
Ren realized instantly: the flying knee was a feint!
Sure enough, Sikorsky snatched a dangling steel frame mid-descent, using it as a
pivot to swing his body.
CLACK!
The adjustment turned the falling knee into a mid-air horizontal sweep.
Zip!
Sikorsky's right leg whipped around, aiming straight for Ren's temple.
"HYAH!"
Having seen through the shift via the Hado, Ren didn't use the uppercut. He
raised his arms in a high-low lateral guard, dropping into a wrestling defensive
stance to take the hit on his massive deltoids.
POW!
Sikorsky's shin slammed into Ren's shoulder. Ren didn't flinch. Instead, he
wrapped his arms around the convict's leg, trapping it in a vice-like embrace.
[ZANGIEF'S TUNDRA STORM]!
Ren locked the leg, twisted his core, and yanked. The force of the pivot tore
the steel frame from the ceiling as he slammed Sikorsky into the floor.
BOOM!!!
Sikorsky hit the carpet on his back, the shockwave making his pupils vibrate.
Blood sprayed from his nose and mouth, coating his face.
"Ungh—"
He barely had time to draw a half-breath when he saw Ren already in the air.
Ren's left leg was extended, his "foot-blade" descending diagonally with the
weight of his entire body.
"Take this! [CAMMY'S ASSAULT]!"
WHOOSH!
Sikorsky performed a desperate backward roll, the heel of Ren's boot missing his
face by an inch.
BOOM!!!
As Sikorsky scrambled to his knees, he saw the floor tile where his head had
been a second ago pulverized into dust. Cold sweat poured down his face.
No... I can't! If I stay here, I'm going to die!
In his moment of hesitation, Ren lunged forward. He performed a mid-air rotation
to build momentum and fired a rapid-fire back-fist.
[CAMMY'S QUICK SPIN KNUCKLE]!
BANG!
The punch caught Sikorsky flush on the bridge of his nose. Even with the convict
leaning back to shed the force, the impact sent a fresh spray of blood into the
air. His entire face went numb, and involuntary tears pricked the corners of his
eyes.
"—!?"
In that heartbeat, a shiver of pure, cold dread ran through Sikorsky. He felt a
sense of "Crisis" deeper than the frozen pits of Siberia.
Is this... defeat?
No! I won't accept it!
Ren Shiroki is just an athlete who lives in a ring! Why is he this terrifying?!
How can he adapt to a real warzone without a single opening?!
Sikorsky's mind was spiraling. He began to shake uncontrollably.
His trembling was interrupted by a voice booming through the hotel's PA system.
"Sikorsky—"
It was the voice of a mischievous old man.
Ground Floor, Command Post.
A high-end black sedan pulled up. A short, bald man in a traditional kimono
embossed with the Tokugawa family crest hopped out.
It was the architect of the Underground Arena—Mitsunari Tokugawa!
The old man had heard the news from the Shinshinkai and had raced to the scene.
He scrambled over to the monitor station, giving Oliva a minor startle.
"Oho!" Oliva smiled. "A pleasure. I assume you're the 'Secret Boss' of this
playground?"
Tokugawa grinned at Oliva, looking delighted, then snatched up a microphone and
flipped the broadcast switch.
"Sikorsky! You're quite the popular attraction tonight~!"
Tokugawa looked at the monitors, seeing the various groups gathered: Oliva, the
MPD, the Kure Clan, the Valkyrie fighters, and even the Shinshinkai disciples.
"You are free, Sikorsky!" Tokugawa roared with a boisterous laugh. "Whether you
run, fight, or surrender—whether you use your bare hands or cowardly
weapons—that is your freedom!"
"But know this—every single one of these spectators is waiting for you!"
Tokugawa's voice dropped into a heavy, dramatic baritone.
"Once two high-spirited warriors meet, the location doesn't matter one damn
bit!!"
"Antarctica! The bottom of the ocean! The street! The Arena! The Battlefield!"
"There is only Combat!"
"The fact that you are fighting remains unchanged!"
Tokugawa's eyes crinkled. "They say athletes might fear a real battle... but
have you ever considered that 'Battlefield Experts' might secretly fear the
Ring?!"
"Keep it up, Sikorsky! Don't be afraid to step onto his 'Stage,' alright?"
Hearing Tokugawa's voice, Sikorsky lifted his head.
He looked at Ren Shiroki standing before him. His expression shifted from shock
to realization, and finally, his brow furrowed as a smirk of pure relief spread
across his face.
"Heh... hehe..."
Was I the one who was obsessed with the difference between the street and the
ring?
I see now! The essence of this battle isn't me dragging Ren Shiroki down to the
street... it's Ren Shiroki dragging me up onto his stage!
It's not from the Ring to the Warzone. It's from the Warzone back to the Ring!
Everything clicked. Sikorsky took a deep, steadying breath. His shaking stopped.
"The trembling... it's gone."
(End of Chapter)
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