Chapter 137: The Tusk and the Tempest
The colossal crow, its glowing ribs pulsating with malevolent energy, let out a guttural caw that echoed with finality. Its head reared back, the wickedly sharp beak aiming directly at Ryo's unconscious, defenseless form. It was a killing blow, delivered with cold, predatory efficiency.
But the blow never landed.
Just before the beak could pierce flesh, something sharp and impossibly fast slammed into its tip with the force of a meteor strike. CLANG! The sound was deafening, a shriek of tortured metal. The crow's head was violently wrenched to the side, its deadly thrust redirected into empty air, gouging a deep furrow in the tunnel floor instead.
The creature staggered, a shiver of surprise and rage running through its massive frame. It turned its glowing eyes, searching for the source of the interruption.
What it saw made it pause.
Standing between it and its prey was a creature of shadow and fury. Kuro, in his full adult form, was a sight to inspire primal fear. Raven-black fur, thick and dense like a polar bear's, covered a frame of coiled muscle. Intricate, blood-red markings swirled across his body, pulsing with a faint, inner light. But it was his eyes—pools of molten gold—that held the crow's gaze. They burned with an ancient, intelligent anger, a promise of violence that was both personal and absolute.
The crow, recovering from its shock, did not hesitate. It unleashed a hailstorm of attacks. Its head darted forward, beak stabbing like a piston. Its wings beat, sending sharpened feathers flying like daggers. It was a whirlwind of destruction.
Kuro did not retreat. He became a phantom. He flowed around the stabbing beak, his body a blur of black and red. A powerful slash of his claws sheared through a cluster of incoming feathers. Another slash opened a deep gash along the crow's shoulder. He was a master of evasion and counter-attack, his every move a testament to his bond with Moon and his own innate power. Slash! A cut on the crow's leg. Slash! A tear across its wing. Slash!
But the crow was ancient and cunning. As Kuro landed from a particularly graceful dodge, one of the creature's massive, clawed feet shot out and closed like a vice around Kuro's hind leg. A sickening CRACK echoed in the tunnel. A pained yelp escaped Kuro's jaws. The crow, with a triumphant shriek, began to spin, lifting Kuro off the ground. It whirled the massive wolf around and around, building momentum, before slamming him bodily into the tunnel wall with a devastating BOOM!
Dust and debris filled the air. Kuro slumped to the ground, his injured leg bent at an unnatural angle. Yet, even through the pain, his golden eyes never lost their fire. He pushed himself up, standing on three legs, a low, continuous growl rumbling in his chest. He was wounded, but he was far from defeated.
It was then that a new sound cut through the growls and the crow's triumphant cawing.
Thump.
A slow, heavy, deliberate footstep.
Thump. Thump.
Kuro's ears twitched. He turned his head, his growl softening into a questioning whine.
THUMP.
Ryo was standing.
He was a horrifying spectacle. His face was a mask of dried and fresh blood. His red robes were shredded, revealing a torso crisscrossed with deep, bleeding wounds from the crow's earlier assault. He swayed on his feet, a monument on the verge of collapse. But in his right hand, held with an ease that defied his injuries and the laws of physics, was a mammoth elephant tusk. It was at least ten feet long, a brutal, primitive weapon of pure ivory. He held it one-handed, resting its immense weight on his shoulder.
His eyes, usually lazy and half-lidded with apathy, were now wide open. They burned with a cold, silent, and utterly terrifying fury. He did not look at Kuro. He did not glance at Moon, still trapped in his crater. His gaze was locked, with singular, homicidal intent, on the colossal crow.
He took another step forward. The ground seemed to tremble.
The crow, sensing a fundamental and dangerous shift in the atmosphere, let out a hesitant, questioning caw. The small, glowing white figure on its shoulder—a smoky, humanoid form of pure energy—stirred uneasily.
Ryo's voice, when it came, was a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated through the very concrete.
"You…" he began, his voice gaining volume with each word, "you fucking defiled, overgrown pigeon!" He was roaring now, spittle flying from his lips, mingling with the blood. "HOW DARE YOU PECK ME!"
The air around Ryo shattered.
A visible aura of crimson power erupted from him. This was not the controlled, fiery manifestation of his Hale bloodline. This was something raw, primal, and infinitely more dangerous. It was pure, undiluted fighting spirit given form. The very tunnel seemed to shrink, the walls bowing inward under the pressure of his unleashed rage.
"I HAVEN'T HAD A BATH IN THREE WEEKS!" he bellowed, as if this was the ultimate sacrilege. "MY BODY IS A SACRED, SEASONED ECOSYSTEM! AND YOU… YOU DEFILED IT WITH YOUR BEAK!"
He charged. He didn't run with speed, but with the unstoppable, inevitable force of a landslide.
The crow, for the first time, showed genuine fear. It tried to back away, to beat its wings and gain altitude.
It was too late.
Ryo reached it in three ground-eating strides. He swung the elephant tusk.
It wasn't a technique. It wasn't a skill. It was pure, unadulterated VIOLENCE.
CRACK!
The blow connected with the crow's jaw. The sound was that of a mountain splitting. The creature's head snapped back at an impossible angle.
Ryo didn't pause. He swung again.
BLAM!The tusk smashed directly into the crow's skull, which imploded in a shower of glowing bone fragments and black mist.
He swung again, and again, a whirlwind of destructive fury, hammering the already-damaged body that Kuro had weakened. Consecutive swings! The tunnel echoed with the sounds of a butcher at work.
The crow was driven into the ground, its form crumbling, being pounded into the concrete. It was, as the saying goes, 'eating dirt'—not literally, but in the sense of being utterly and humiliatingly defeated. The glowing white figure on its shoulder flickered wildly, like a disturbed television signal, and then winked out of existence entirely.
The crow's body began to dissolve into motes of black energy and fading green light, leaving behind only the memory of its terrifying presence.
But Ryo's fury was not sated. He turned his blood-soaked gaze towards Ken Xiao, who had been watching the entire spectacle with a look of detached, analytical amusement. Ryo's rage had found a new target.
He never got the chance to charge.
BOOM!
The mammoth tusk, thrown with unerring accuracy, slammed down from above, striking Ken directly on the head. At the same instant, Kuro, ignoring his broken leg, lunged in a black and red blur.
Ken, his amusement finally wiped away by a flicker of annoyance, moved to deflect. He managed to twist, avoiding a fatal blow from Kuro's fangs, but not completely. Kuro's claws tore through the fabric of his kimono and the muscle beneath, ripping open his rib cage. Blood began to flow freely.
And then Ryo was on him.
There was no finesse. It was a brutal, close-quarters assault. Ryo's fists, feet, and elbows became a piston-driven engine of destruction. A cross, a hook, a devastating elbow strike. Ken tried to raise a hand, to summon his gravitational power, to create distance.
Ryo grabbed that outstretched hand. With a roar that came from the depths of his soul, he put all of his weight, all of his fury, all of his immense physical power into one brutal, twisting motion.
SNAP-CRUNCH!
Ken's arm bent at a horrifying, unnatural angle. Bone protruded through the skin. A fraction of a second later, Kuro's jaws closed around the ruined limb and, with a savage jerk, ripped it clean from Ken's body.
Ken stared, for a moment, at the vacant space where his arm used to be, his face a mask of stunned disbelief.
Ryo and Kuro, a tempest of man and beast, prepared to descend upon him for the final blow.
But Ken, driven by pain and survival instinct, reacted. He kicked out with his leg, deflecting Kuro's next lunge. The deflected attack accidentally sent Kuro crashing into Ryo. At the same time, Ken's remaining good hand shot out, a punch imbued with gravitational force that connected with Ryo's already battered head.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Ryo screamed, not in pain, but in pure, unbridled rage. Blood poured from his nose and eyes, but his fighting spirit didn't dim—it exploded. He shrugged off the damage, his body moving on fury alone. He launched himself back at Ken, his attack more ferocious than ever.
This final, desperate blow connected squarely with Ken's forehead.
CRACK!
It was the sound of a coconut being split. Ken's head snapped back, his body going limp. He was thrown through the air, landing in a broken heap several feet away.
Silence.
Ryo stood panting, his body a wreck, held together only by willpower. Kuro limped to his side, a low growl still in his throat. They watched, waiting for any movement.
There was none.
The battle seemed over.
But then, Moon, from his crater, saw it. A faint, golden glow. A single, shimmering thread of light, no thicker than a hair, was visible. It extended from the ruins of Ken's forehead, connecting the smashed part of his skull to the rest of his head.
To be continued…