Narrator POV.
—WTF? I don't swing that way. I like beautiful, sexy women… not ugly devils like you, you understand? Besides, I don't give out collagen for free. I don't like ironing out wrinkles.
To his right, the compressed blood sphere floated in the air. Denser. Darker. More stable. The bright red now looked almost black at its core. The air around it vibrated faintly from the accumulated pressure.
Isagi's mocking smile slowly returned.
—Wanna play, pretty boy? —The devil stuck out its tongue slowly, licking its lips in anticipation, as if the fight were a feast about to begin.
—Hey, you perverts, don't igno—!
Swhis!
Before Power could finish her complaint, the air exploded. The devil with multiple stitched faces vanished from its position in a burst of unnatural speed. The pavement beneath its feet cracked from the force of its launch.
In less than a blink, it appeared behind Power. Its fist shot straight toward the devil girl's head with a clear and brutal intent: to crush it in a single blow.
BAM!
The impact never landed.
Isagi's fist intercepted the attack halfway. Flesh against flesh. Force against force. The collision created a gust of wind that kicked up dust and scraps of paper around them. The dry sound of the strike echoed like a gunshot.
Isagi's arm trembled slightly.
So did the devil's.
Isagi smiled.
(It's strong… how long has it been since I fought a devil that matched my physical strength?) he thought, feeling something bubble up inside him.
Excitement. Adrenaline.
He had started enjoying fights. The system, the missions, the rewards… all of it had gradually pushed him to that point. But ever since that battle in the warehouse—against that devil that looked like it came straight out of the Bible—he hadn't felt that same mix of tension and real danger again.
That tingling sensation that something could go wrong at any moment.
His lips curled even further.
—Hey, patchwork face… don't disappoint me.
The devil's many mouths twisted into an even wider grin.
—Oh! So you're not as fragile as you look. —Its yellow eyes gleamed with sick excitement. —This will be fun… ripping that face off by force.
Its second fist shot forward. Straight for Isagi's chest. Faster. More violent.
Isagi opened his hand and stopped it dead.
CLAP!
The impact vibrated through his arm all the way to his shoulder. His boots slid a few centimeters across the asphalt from the sheer force.
Now they were face to face. Fist against fist. Hand against fist. Both straining. Both pushing. Isagi's muscles tightened under his uniform. The devil growled, multiple overlapping voices rumbling at once.
The ground beneath them began to crack from the pressure.
A pure contest of brute strength.
—Power… the best help is not getting in the way. —Isagi glanced sideways at the devil girl.
Power was sweating. Her pupils trembled. It was obvious.
She hadn't been able to follow the devil's speed, not even with her eyes. To her, the movement had been nothing but a blur. If she stepped in now, she wouldn't be help…
She'd be a victim.
—I'm not scared! —Power clenched her teeth and fists with childish stubbornness. —B-but I'll leave it to you, human. It looks weak enough for you to handle.
Isagi raised an eyebrow.
—I'd believe you… but your legs are shaking like jelly.
And it was true. Power's knees were trembling, barely noticeable.
Without saying anything else, Isagi turned his attention back to the devil.
No warning.
No countdown.
His body moved.
He spun on his axis and launched a precise, low leg sweep. The devil didn't see it coming. Its legs were knocked out from under it, and its body lost balance.
As it fell backward, Isagi moved in without wasting a second.
He grabbed it by the face. His fingers dug into the stitched flesh, squeezing several overlapping faces at once.
—Move.
With clean, brutal force, he lifted it and hurled it forward like a trash bag. The devil went flying. It slammed into the ground and rolled several meters, kicking up dust and chunks of concrete.
But in the blink of an eye…
It was already standing.
Its neck cracked as it straightened. All its mouths smiled at once. It licked its lips slowly.
It could smell it.
Isagi's blood.
That distinct scent.
Marechi.
Its yellow pupils widened.
Now it wanted him even more.
—I've seen that look plenty of times… —Isagi sighed with fake resignation. —The curse of being so handsome.
The air around his fists changed. A translucent blue energy began wrapping around them, edged with vibrating black outlines, as if they were cutting through space itself. The spiritual pressure subtly increased, making tiny dust particles float around him.
Isagi lowered his stance. More stable.
Two vertical lines appeared crossing over his eyes, marking the internal flow of energy and blood.
His breathing became deeper. More controlled.
—Flowing Red Scale.
.
.
.
Power watched with her mouth open. Not exactly because she understood everything happening… but because she could barely see it.
To her eyes, both fighters were streaks.
Flashes. Shadows crashing into each other again and again. The impacts echoed across the battlefield like dry thunder. Every clash of fists kicked up dust. Every movement cracked the ground beneath them.
With a kick packed full of momentum, Isagi slammed his foot into the Stitched-Faces Devil's torso. The air exploded. The devil went flying backward and tore straight through a small abandoned shop. Wood groaned, glass shattered, and concrete broke apart in a rain of debris.
For a second, there was silence.
Then—
CRASH!
The back wall exploded from the inside.
In a violent blur, through splintered wood and chunks of concrete, the devil burst out like a bullet.
Smiling.
Smiling more than before.
And now it had two massive blades in its hands—formed from hardened flesh and irregular metal, as if they had grown directly from its forearms.
Isagi narrowed his eyes. He had noticed from the start that the devil was fast. Very fast.
But now, with Flowing Red Scale active…
In brute strength, it couldn't compete with him. One hit had been enough to shatter several ribs. Isagi had felt the crunch beneath his knuckles.
The devil knew it too.
That's why it changed strategy.
If it couldn't match him in strength… it would use weapons.
The blades cut through the air with a sharp whistle. Isagi stepped back with precise timing.
The silver edge passed right in front of his face. For a fraction of a second, he could see his own distorted reflection on the flat surface of the metal.
With a sharp open-handed strike—like a karate chop—he hit the blade from the side.
The weapon shattered into glittering fragments that shot outward like shrapnel.
The devil's grin widened even further.
Because that was the moment it had been waiting for.
The second blade came down in a low, fast arc.
Too close.
Too fast.
Blood splattered into the air.
Isagi's hand dropped to the ground with a wet sound.
For an instant, everything seemed to slow down.
Isagi grimaced in pain and quickly jumped back, creating distance.
He had slipped up.
The devil raised the blade, now stained red.
—Too bad… I missed. —Its voice vibrated with multiple overlapping tones. —Next time it'll be your face.
It brought the bloody blade toward its face and inhaled deeply.
It shuddered.
The scent intoxicated it.
—Disgusting bastard. —Isagi said with a flat, almost indifferent expression as he watched the devil slowly lick the blood off the blade. —That was a lucky hit. It's the first time I've fought someone as fast as you. My lack of experience worked against me. But it won't happen again.
He lifted his severed arm without even wincing. Blood was pouring out of the missing hand, hot and thick, soaking the ground.
Then the bone began to grow with a wet crack, regenerating right in front of the devil's eyes.
First the solid white structure formed.
Then tendons tightened like freshly woven threads.
Flesh wrapped around it, veins spread and pulsed, and finally skin covered everything—
As if it had never been gone.
Isagi regenerated without any problem, all thanks to the powerful regeneration granted by the Bloody Orchid Serum.
He flexed his newly formed fingers.
—You cut off my right hand… and that's the one I used to "train the goose." I can't let that kind of personal insult slide.
---
End of the chapter.