Chapter 399: Heavenly Talent
[THE FINAL WEAPON OF KARATE]—Katsumi Orochi possessed a level of genius that
bordered on the divine. Having survived the invasion of the five Death Row
Convicts, his mental state had matured significantly. Even in the face of a
direct provocation at his own front door, he remained perfectly serene.
"I say, Ren-aniki," Katsumi said, shaking his head with a grin. "It's rare for
someone to have the balls to kick the door of the Shinshinkai. You should give
them some encouragement for their courage!"
Ren bared his teeth. "The guy specifically called me out, you know!"
Katsumi put his hands on his hips. "While you're inside these walls, you're a
Shinshinkai Guest Coach. That makes you my responsibility as the
Second-Generation Head."
The two of them shared a laugh, treating the intrusion like a casual social
call.
The Toyo Electric agent in the white suit didn't look annoyed. He had clearly
anticipated this reaction. He was a patient predator. Or perhaps he simply
viewed himself as the delivery man, leaving the "Processing" to Masaki Meguro
while he watched the data roll in.
The battle had already begun.
"Hah! Hu! ...Hah! Hu!"
The madman known as Masaki Meguro was hunched over, taking deep, frantic gulps
of air. He looked hyper-stimulated, his tongue lolling out of his mouth in a way
that didn't look human.
Drip.
A glob of saliva hit the polished dojo floor.
"Hey!" Katsumi's brow furrowed.
Both uninvited guests had removed their shoes, following the basic etiquette of
the dojo, but it was a hollow gesture. Their behavior was pure contempt.
"Clean up your mess," Katsumi barked, his voice dropping to a heavy, dangerous
register.
"Ah... sorry, sorry—"
Meguro bowed repeatedly, but he spoke with his tongue out, making his voice
sound wet and distorted. He used his dangling hand to wipe the drool from the
floor, then immediately extended it toward Katsumi, as if offering a handshake
of apology.
"I can't help it... I can't help it..." Meguro muttered, his hand shaking
slightly as he beckoned Katsumi to take it.
Katsumi didn't hesitate. He stepped forward and gripped Meguro's hand. "Heh. I'm
going to have to wash my hands after this."
Before Katsumi could finish the sentence, Meguro's persona flipped.
"I can't help but want to BREAK THINGS!!" he shrieked with a jagged, murderous
grin.
The Judo maniac's hyper-muscled right arm flexed with explosive power. He tried
to yank Katsumi off-balance to set up a throw, but his movement stalled halfway.
He couldn't budge the Karateka.
"Oho?"
Ren leaned in, craning his neck to see the mechanics of the exchange.
Katsumi had seen the trap coming a mile away. He had already anchored his
base—toes turned inward, knees slightly bent, center of gravity dropped low,
shoulders aligned with his feet.
The fundamental defensive stance of Karate—[SANCHIN-DACHI] (Three Battles
Stance).
It was a posture designed to withstand the rolling deck of a ship in a storm. A
mere "yank" from a stationary position was never going to move him.
"Ah... you didn't die..."
Meguro froze, his wide, glazed eyes staring at Katsumi. His voice remained eerie
and high-pitched.
Katsumi wasn't interested in a conversation. He possessed a heavenly talent, and
that talent was evolving at a staggering rate. The man before him reeked of the
same slaughterhouse scent as the Death Row Convicts. That handshake was a lethal
entry—there was no reason to hold back.
"You're a pathetic liar!"
Katsumi snapped his right arm to the left, breaking Meguro's grip and throwing
the giant off-balance. The movement created a massive opening in Meguro's
center-line.
Thud-thud-thud!
Katsumi unleashed a vertical chain of three punches. He struck the throat, the
solar plexus, and the groin in a single, fluid line.
The force of the barrage was so immense that it lifted the 195cm, 130kg Meguro
off the floor.
Fwoosh!
Meguro was sent sailing backward, flying several meters before hitting the mats
on his back. His limbs twitched rhythmically as he lay in the dirt.
Terae, watching from the back, gasped. "There it is! Master Katsumi's
[CENTER-LINE TRIPLE STRIKE]!!"
"Phew!" Katsumi pulled his hands back into a guard, his feet rooted to the
floor. "Is that all it took to break you? Bastard!"
Before the words had even left his mouth—Zip!
The fallen Meguro swung his arm wildly, launching a projectile from the ground.
Katsumi had already pre-read the "convict-style" ambush. He swatted the object
aside with his left forearm—thwack!
He looked down. It was a blood-stained scrap of cloth Meguro had torn from his
own Judo gi.
"Heh. Blinding with blood? I've seen that movie too many times lately," Katsumi
smirked. He looked back at Meguro and suddenly froze.
He had expected the giant to be hurt. But Meguro's state was... wrong.
Blood from his own self-inflicted wounds had matted his unkempt hair. His eyes
were bulging, red capillaries burst within the sclera, and bloody tears were
streaming down his face. He didn't look like a man in pain. He looked like a man
in ecstasy.
Snap-clack!
Meguro ignored his dislocated jaw, manually slamming the bone back into place
with a sickening pop.
"HAAAAAAA-HAAAAA—!!"
Meguro's tongue lolled out again. He was radiating a heat that felt like a
furnace. There wasn't a trace of agony on his face—only a distorted, manic joy.
Terae trembled. "What is that guy? Does he even feel fear?"
He turned to ask Ren, but Ren was no longer standing beside him.
"Eh?"
On the other side of the dojo, the Toyo Electric agent in the white suit was
watching the "Monster" he had unleashed with a satisfied smirk.
Even though the plan had hit a snag—Meguro was fighting Katsumi instead of
Ren—it didn't matter. He was here to collect data. Masaki Meguro wasn't like Saw
Paing; he was a "Beast" kept on a leash by CEO Hayami, a tool to be used and
discarded.
"Heh... let him run wild," the agent sneered. "Martial artists are so naive.
Thinking they can solve everything with their bare hands..."
"I see. So that's the play," a voice said right next to his ear.
Ren Shiroki was standing beside him, nodding thoughtfully. "You brought a beast
that can't feel pain to probe me or Katsumi-kun, then you'll look for a
counter?"
The white-suit agent nodded instinctively. "Exactly—wait, WHAT?!"
He spun around, nearly jumping out of his skin. Ren was standing inches away,
radiating a terrifying pressure.
Ren raised his hands, showing his bare palms. "Look. Regardless of your plan,
I'm standing right here. I'm a threat to your life right now."
"You people are so complicated," Ren sighed, patting the agent on the shoulder.
"And you seriously underestimate the power of 'Bare Hands'."
Ren's grin was wide and predatory. "Anyway, since you're here, try to enjoy the
show!"
The agent stood frozen, cold sweat pouring down his back. An instinctive, primal
dread began to drown his corporate logic.
Meanwhile, Meguro had fully recovered.
With a series of high-pitched, manic chirps, he dug his toes into the mats and
lunged. His speed was incredible for a man of his mass. He charged Katsumi with
his arms wide, a classic Judo entry intended to smother the Karateka.
Katsumi Orochi, however, wasn't about to let a grappler dictate the frames.
Zip!
With a microscopic shift of his feet, Katsumi pivoted out of Meguro's path. The
giant's tackle hit nothing but air. In the same frame, Katsumi whipped his leg
around in a high-line roundhouse.
BAM!
The kick caught Meguro square in the cheek, spraying blood across the floor.
Meguro was launched sideways, crashing into the mats once more. He immediately
flipped back onto all fours, shaking the blood from his face like a dog.
"Hah... HAAAA!"
Katsumi let out a sharp whistle, looking unimpressed. "A Judo master with this
much durability is a rare find. Do I need to turn up the torque?"
He shifted his stance, pulling his right fist back to his hip, his body
beginning to coil like a heavy industrial spring. He was preparing the [MACH
PUNCH].
But just as the "Final Weapon" was about to fire—Slide!
The heavy dojo doors were thrown open. A tall, lean man with long hair stepped
inside, followed by a middle-aged officer with a handlebar mustache.
Ren looked over.
The officer was his old contact, Inspector Morio Sonoda. The long-haired man
beside him was the younger brother of the Great Doctor—[THE CORD-CUTTER] Kosho
Shinogi.
Kosho also served as a Guest Coach for the Shinshinkai. Terae, at the door, was
stunned by the timing. "Shinogi-sensei!"
"Pardon the intrusion, but I'm not here for a lesson today," Kosho said, walking
past Terae and into the center of the hall. He ignored the tension, his sharp
gaze locking onto the crouched Meguro.
"I'm here on behalf of the MPD to collect a 'specimen'."
Sonoda stepped forward, flashing his badge at the Toyo agent and Meguro.
"Masaki Meguro. You are a suspect in a series of cold-case mass murders. You're
coming with us."
☆☆☆
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