Chapter 73: An Interlude After the End of the Second Round

With the dazzling battle between Hisayasu Takemoto and Genzai Kuroki—an encounter that could have easily been the highlight of any final—fresh in everyone’s mind, the remaining matches of the third day of the Kengan Annihilation Tournament were left to unfold. Whether it was "Drifting Cloud" Izumi Hatsune’s exquisite jiu-jitsu, which inflicted bone-shattering damage upon the supremely limber Yohei Bando, or "Fang of Destruction" Gaoh Retsudo’s overwhelming power as he crushed "God of Battle" Gaolang’s lightning-fast punches and Muay Thai strikes that were as sharp as axes, none of these could quite match the impact of what had come before.

And so, after the day’s tension-fraught contests had concluded, just as the tens of thousands of spectators in the Annihilation Arena were preparing to leave for a break, Sayaka Katagiri, representing the Kengan Association as the host, made a sudden appearance. She announced that, to help the audience recover from the adrenaline rush brought on by the bone-crunching fights, the Association had prepared a mood-lightening program for everyone’s enjoyment.

As she spoke, a massive lift-stage emerged from beneath the sand-strewn arena, rising up and parting the grains. Upon this stage, more than a dozen young women, dressed in revealing outfits, their waists slender and legs long, began to dance with exuberant energy. Their youthful, vibrant bodies moved across the very ground that, only half an hour before, had been drenched with blood. The older men from around the world who packed the stands were delighted by this interlude, and took the chance to relax, resuming their seats and mingling with those around them in the heat of the moment.

However, like most of the fighters, Kyo Shirato, having watched the matches, was preparing to leave. He and Saeko had just entered the spectator’s corridor when they were stopped by a black-suited man from the Kengan Association.

"Mr. Shirato," the burly man bowed first before stepping aside and gesturing. "The chairman, Katagiri, awaits all participating company presidents in the exclusive VIP box at the top level. There’s an important announcement to be made."

"Is that so?" The young man’s face remained calm as he adjusted his glasses. He turned to Saeko, patting her gently on the shoulder. "I’ll go see the chairman. You go on ahead." With that, he followed the black-suited man toward the upper levels.

With all the tournament rules now laid bare and only two days remaining before the final outcome would reveal who would inherit the power of the Kengan Association, the sudden summoning of all participating company presidents could only mean one thing—this was a move to settle everything before the dust had even settled.

"In other words," Kyo’s lips curled into the faintest of smiles, a subtle thrill passing through him, "Masamasa Hayami, am I finally closing in on you?"

As Saeko watched Kyo disappear around the corner with the black-suited man, she gently caressed the spot on her shoulder where he had just touched her, recalling the subtle pressure of his hand. "I see, so that’s what it is," she murmured, a gentle, elegant smile on her lips as a fleeting flash of crimson flickered in her eyes. "I didn’t expect such a delightful turn of events."

A long, slender tongue flicked out, almost sickly, to trace her lips.

The demure smile of a perfect lady had faded, replaced by the deadly allure of a femme fatale—an enchanting but lethal killer.

...

When Kyo Shirato reached the door of the exclusive VIP box, his black-suited guide silently melted away into the shadows. Opening the lavish door and stepping into the spacious room, Kyo saw that the man’s words had been true. Presidents from various companies—Security President Nishihonji, Boss Burger’s President, Yiwu Kokuyo Bookstore’s President, and more—whether already defeated or still in the tournament, had all gathered here. Only a few, such as the heads of Golden Entertainment and the Nogi Group, were yet to arrive.

As Kyo entered and the sound of the door drew attention, all eyes turned to him. Yet, as soon as his face was recognized, a look of annoyance or perhaps unease flickered across their features, and they turned back to their own affairs.

"Hey, everyone, waiting for someone?" Kyo greeted them cheerfully, as if among old friends. To bring so many key figures together on such short notice—clearly, Masamasa Hayami had been plotting this for some time.

Just as Kyo was making his own assessment, a man with graying hair and high cheekbones, accompanied by a red-haired woman nonchalantly smoking a cigarette, approached him. They were Ken Oya, president of the Yiwu Kokuyo Bookstore, and Shion Kanaryuin, president of Ousakura Women’s Academy.

Perhaps due to Kyo’s natural knack for befriending older men, this friend of Kazuo Yamashita, whom he had met through drinking, had quickly grown familiar with the young man.

"Thank goodness you’re here, Kyo," Ken Oya said, clapping him on the shoulder with some relief. "Otherwise, a bunch of us weaklings would really be feeling uneasy."

The red-haired woman, although saying nothing, also allowed herself a discreet sigh of relief, having already met Kyo several times before.

"Oh? Isn’t the chairman just going to make an announcement? What’s there to be nervous about?"

"Don’t play dumb!" Ken Oya snapped. "We’ve been waiting here twenty minutes already. Even the slowest of us can sense something’s off!"

"So why don’t you leave?"

At Kyo’s smiling question, a flamboyantly dressed president nearby twisted his hips and sneered.

"It’s only a few flights of stairs from here to the main crowd," he said, "but those few flights… would be more than enough to collect the blood of the mere dozen of us here."

~~~~~~

While the audience reveled in the youthful spectacle of music and dance inside the Annihilation Arena, within the inner workings of the colossal structure, burly men in white suits wielding cold steel swept through, ruthlessly eliminating members of Katagiri’s faction in black suits. It seemed even the fighters themselves were targets for this purge.

The sharp edge of a weapon sliced through the air, shearing off a lock of Gaolang’s hair as he stood in a defensive stance.

"What are you thinking, God of Battle?" taunted the long-haired man, whipping his Green Dragon Saber in a spiral that caused his hair to flutter. He grinned mockingly at Gaolang, who had barely dodged the blade and now broke out in a cold sweat.

"Did you really think I’d let an unarmed combat master get close?"

Behind Gaolang lay the fallen bodies of white-suited men that he and Adam Dudley—the "Emperor" of American street fighting—had defeated together. Yet this long-haired man in a white suit was nothing like those others, who, despite their weaponry, had proved fragile and weak. He was fundamentally different—overwhelmingly so.

He was a man who, in the realm of weaponry, stood shoulder to shoulder with the greatest unarmed fighters—a truly terrifying foe.

Even Gaolang himself had once admitted: between bare hands and blades, there lay an insurmountable wall!

"YOU ARE BAS—"

"Wait! Don’t go!"

But Adam Dudley, dropping the unconscious white-suited thug at his feet, seemed to have been reminded of his old street-fighting days by the armed opponent. With bloodlust in his eyes, he charged straight at the whirling blade, cursing as he went—too quickly for Gaolang, focused as he was on his own opponent, to stop him.

The sound of steel biting into flesh was followed by a spray of blood, splattering violently across the walls as the blade found its mark.