Chapter 449: Only Three in the World
To entertain their new leader and his guests, the underlings of the Two Tigers
sector had scavenged a haul of fresh autumn saury from the outside markets.
It was late autumn.
The saury had just passed their peak fattiness, but they still held enough rich
oils to sizzle beautifully over the open flames. Dusted with coarse salt and
grilled over the campfire, the meat was succulent and flavorful.
The group sat circled around the fire, eating slowly.
[THE UMIBOZU] Yoshinari Karo found himself repeatedly glancing at Guevara. The
steady old fisherman still found it difficult to reconcile the fact that the
young man who had spared his life was once a pirate and was currently the
President of a sovereign nation.
Moreover, he was a man whose personal martial prowess put him on a diplomatic
par with the United States!
"Guevara-san..." Karo rumbled, unable to contain his curiosity. "Why would
someone with your capabilities throw themselves into a place like the Ward?"
Guevara continued to eat his fish, the dancing orange flames reflecting in his
dark, youthful eyes.
He offered a faint smile. "The reason is simple. Ren-kun mentioned it earlier."
Ren Shiroki nodded. "He's here for the man currently occupying the Ten Tokita
sector. The brawling champion of the USA—[MR. UNCHAINED] Biscuit Oliva."
Ren looked up at the night sky. "Two monsters who chose to discard weapons and
fight the United States with nothing but their bare hands. Whether it's
Guevara-san or Oliva, they both want to see who's superior. It's an irresistible
draw for both of them."
"Exactly," Guevara said, spitting a fishbone into the fire. "Whether it was back
at the Black Pentagon or here in this lawless city, there are several
individuals who have spent years dreaming of a match with Oliva."
Guevara looked at Ren. "I've surrounded his territory on three sides. He should
be reaching his limit soon. He'll have to come out and face me."
"Hah... fighting is fighting," Ren sighed, taking a long drink of water. "The
beauty of 'Bare Hands' is the convenience. Anytime, anywhere. That's why we're
living in the Age of the Bare Hand."
Ren's words resonated deeply with Guevara, but the others were still processing
the weight of the statement.
The first person to speak up, however, was the man on the other end of the video
call—Erioh Kure. He hadn't hung up yet.
"The Age of the Bare Hand... precisely!"
As the Patriarch of the world's most infamous assassination clan, Erioh Kure
delivered a staggering martial theory.
"Perhaps coming from me, this might shake the conviction of some assassins, but
it is the cold, hard truth of the 21st century."
"In this era, a human being who has reinforced their physical vessel to the
absolute limit is functionally invincible."
Erioh took a slow pull from his pipe.
"The most sophisticated assassin in the world is still burdened by the logistics
of the modern age. Security checkpoints, metal detectors, thermal imaging,
high-level bodyguards—a weapon is a liability. But a man who is the weapon?"
"He can walk through any door on the planet. There is no sensor in existence
that triggers in response to the density of a man's muscle or the torque of his
fist!"
Erioh exhaled a long plume of smoke.
"Men in high positions believe they are protected because their hallways are
clear of iron. They are arrogant in their safety. They never consider that a
solitary 'bare-handed' predator can infiltrate the heart of any agency on
earth."
"From that perspective, there truly are men in this world more dangerous than a
heavy machine gun."
The old man chuckled darkly.
"On that note, there is a legend whispered in the shadows of the assassination
world. I'd like to verify it with Guevara-san."
"Oho?" Guevara blinked, surprised by the formal shift in the conversation. "I'm
listening."
Erioh rubbed his chin.
"Rumor has it that the United States government finally realized this truth.
They selected Three Men who were too dangerous to be left unmonitored."
"The story goes that these three are the only individuals on the planet
tracked 24/7 by dedicated military reconnaissance satellites."
Guevara let out a helpless, toothy grin. "Man, leave it to the States to be that
loud about their own paranoia. Their op-sec is garbage."
Guevara's response confirmed the legend. The group around the fire leaned in,
breathless.
Fusui Kure blinked. "Grandpa... satellite surveillance? On a person?"
Erioh nodded. "The first is Baki Hanma's father, the undisputed [STRONGEST
CREATURE ON EARTH], Yujiro Hanma."
"The second is [MR. UNCHAINED] Biscuit Oliva."
"And the third... is the man sitting next to you: [MR. 2] Jun Guevara."
The Patriarch let out a long, weathered sigh.
"Even the world's most wanted terrorist can't claim that level of prestige. The
satellites assigned to them are high-precision military assets capable of
tracking a target with sub-meter accuracy."
"It is said that the moment any of those three begins moving at a speed
exceeding 4km/h—a brisk walking pace—at least half of the GPS satellite network
is forcibly diverted to lock onto their coordinates."
"The resulting diversion is so intense that for several seconds, every civilian
car navigation system on the planet using that satellite block experiences a
70-meter deviation error!"
"Any movement faster than a stroll triggers a global alarm. Running, fighting,
lunging—their every kinetic action strikes fear into the hearts of the men
hiding behind the missiles."
"In all of human history, only these three have achieved such status."
Erioh arched an eyebrow. "Even the Kure Clan, as much as it pains me to say, has
never been granted such an 'honor'."
Guevara looked a bit embarrassed, rubbing his nose with a sheepish laugh.
"Heh... Americans are always so dramatic. You're making me sound much more
important than I am, old-timer."
Night deepened.
Fusui prepared to end the call, but Erioh suddenly cut her off. It seemed that
seeing Guevara had briefly distracted him from a much more "pressing" personal
matter.
"Ren? Ren Shiroki! Get over here!"
Ren leaned into the camera. He saw Erioh's face turn a bright, angry red and
assumed a new threat had breached the sector.
Instead, the Patriarch ground his teeth, his voice a low, jealous hiss. "I just
got word. Ohma Tokita has entered the Ward."
"I don't care if he's visiting his old house or training. He's been hanging
around my Karura far too much lately. I WILL NOT PERMIT IT!"
"Raian is already busy in Nine Spiders, so I've instructed him to gut that
seaweed-headed brat on sight. But he might miss him..."
Erioh's "Great-Granddaughter Complex" went into full overdrive. He gripped his
pipe so hard it snapped in half. "Ren! You're there! Find Ohma and beat the
living hell out of him for me!!"
Ren: "..."
Ren: "...Excuse me?"
Ren knew Erioh was a good man, but his protective streak for Karura was
bordering on a psychological disorder. To Ren, "beating someone up" required a
martial reason; doing it over family drama wouldn't draw out Ohma's best frames.
It was a lose-lose situation.
"Haha..." Fusui laughed nervously, trying to help Ren steer the old man away
from the ledge.
Just then, the sound of rhythmic footsteps scuffing the dirt reached the
campfire. A solitary figure emerged from the darkness, drawn by the light of the
fire.
He had a head of messy, seaweed-like hair and looked a bit travel-worn.
[THE ASHURA] Ohma Tokita.
It wasn't actually that much of a coincidence. Ohma's home sector—Ten Tokita—was
the neighboring district, and he frequently roamed Two Tigers during his
training laps.
Ohma saw the fire and had intended to ask for a drink of water, only to realize
he had walked into a Hub reunion.
"Oh—"
Ohma raised a hand to greet them, but before a single syllable could leave his
lips, Fusui Kure lunged. She grabbed him by the face and shoved his head down,
desperately trying to keep his silhouette out of the phone's camera view.
Ohma's reflexes were too fast. He caught her wrist, looking bewildered. "Hey—"
He started to rise back up. Ren Shiroki, seeing the catastrophic fury building
on the phone screen, didn't hesitate. He spread his arms wide and launched into
a high-speed tackle!
[ZANGIEF: SIBERIAN EXPRESS]!
THUD!
Ren's massive frame slammed into Ohma, bowling him over and pinning him flat
against the dirt. Fusui immediately sat on Ren's back to add weight, the three
of them forming a desperate human pile.
Erioh's voice crackled through the speaker, suspicious. "What was that noise?
What happened?"
Ren, still pinning the struggling Ohma to the earth, shouted toward the phone,
"Nothing, nothing! Just a standard street brawl, Grandpa! Go get some sleep,
we've got this under control!"
Ten Tokita's [ASHURA], pinned in the dirt: "???"
☆☆☆
-> 30 Advanced chapters Now Available on Patreon!!
-> https://www.pat-reon.co-m/c/Hollowborn
(Just remove the hyphen (-) to access patreon normally)
If you like this novel please consider leaving a review that's help the story a lot Thank you