CHAPTER 79: THE END OF THE RETRIEVAL PHASE
"The what?"
Kyara stared at Ren, his eyes wide with confusion.
"Soul Combat Hub"? Was it a syndicate name? A new Dojo? A corporate front?
But before Kyara could ponder the absurdity of the title, Marco tightened his fists and lunged again.
ZIP!
As a biological experiment, Marco's physical output was off the charts. Even a standard punch from him carried enough force to shatter a brick wall.
But in Kyara's eyes, power was meaningless if it didn't connect. He slipped the strike with a casual tilt of his head, his face remaining bored. He even had the leisure to rub his chin mid-evasion.
However, as Kyara prepared to deliver a mocking critique, Marco followed up with a sudden low-line sweep aimed at Kyara's shins.
SHING!
Kyara reacted instantly, slamming his foot into the deck and using the momentum to jump. He rotated his body in mid-air, drawing his legs up to avoid the sweep, then transitioned into a mid-air back-kick that slammed into Marco's braced forearms.
BANG!
The impact forced Marco back several paces before his heavy boots caught the carpet.
"!"
Kyara raised an eyebrow, a spark of genuine interest appearing in his scarred eye.
Their first exchange in the companionway had been a total blowout—Kyara had sent Marco flying with a single hit. But this second round? Marco was still "raw," but his movements were noticeably more fluid. The gap wasn't as wide as it had been five minutes ago.
Furthermore...
Kyara looked down at his own ankle. The fabric of his expensive suit trousers had been shredded by the wind-pressure of Marco's kick, and a faint red welt was beginning to form on his skin.
It was a tiny scratch, but it was enough. Marco's "Might" was evolving in real-time.
"Heh. Improvement? Have you finally found your 'Consciousness'?"
Kyara's gaze swept across the hall.
He looked at Marco, at Ren Shiroki, at the Teiai "Stranger" enforcers, the IDEAL mercenaries, and the cowering debtors.
In Kyara's world, this scene was a microcosm of the truth. This planet rotated on a vortex of Might.
The concept of "Love" or "Ethics" was just a paper-thin facade designed to keep the weak from panicking. Human society was built on the foundation of violence. Nobles, Emperors, Tycoons—from the dawn of time, those who held authority held it because they possessed the most unyielding, indestructible "Might."
The strong are driven by their nature to seek capital, to seek violence, to exercise power. Whether they claimed to be "Good" or "Evil," the only tool that ever settled the ledger was a closed fist.
That was why the Kengan Association existed. Why Kakerou existed. Why the gunmen were locked in a stalemate. And why Ren Shiroki was standing there, enjoying the show.
Might is the architect of reality.
In Kyara's eyes, the "Demon of the Tower," Rodem, had been a famous name, but he had been a hollow tool. A monster who used violence without a "Will" was easily broken.
But what was required was the Resolve and the Courage to own one's own power.
Kyara locked eyes with Marco, noticing the mixture of innocence and steely determination in the giant's gaze.
Having spent his life on the battlefield, Kyara could usually read the intent of a brawler before they even moved. He'd done it to Marco in their first round.
But now? He was having trouble seeing the "Line."
How could a boy with the mind of a child grasp the complexities of combat control so quickly?
"Get out of the way! Marco doesn't want to kill you!"
Marco ground his teeth, his heavy boots scuffing the floor with a rhythmic thud-thud.
"But if you try to stop Marco... then Marco will kick you!"
"And Marco won't apologize if it hurts!"
WHOOSH!
Marco launched a high-line roundhouse. Kyara raised his arm, catching the shin in the palm of his hand.
THUD.
The impact was heavy, the shockwave causing a fresh gash to open on Kyara's palm. He had successfully blocked it, but Marco's prehistoric power was starting to leak through his guard.
"Is that so? I see..."
Kyara felt the sting in his hand and realized the truth.
Perhaps because Marco's mind had never "Grown Up," he was purer than a normal man. And through his contact with Ren and Baku, he was finally accepting his nature. He wasn't suppressing his violence anymore; he was directing it.
He's a good seed...
As Kyara stabilized his stance, he prepared to counter Marco's follow-up punch. But instead of retreating, he stepped forward.
The instant Marco's fist reached his face, Kyara twisted his neck. He used his skull to deflect the punch along a tangent, bleeding off most of the energy while sliding past Marco's guard.
A trail of blood leaked from Kyara's nostril. He tasted the iron in his mouth and let out a manic grin.
It had been a long time since he'd bled.
"Haha! This is what I'm talking about!"
Kyara leaned back to avoid a hook, caught Marco's lead arm, and used the giant's own momentum to throw him.
BOOM!
Marco was launched across the hall, slamming into the deck.
But as Kyara expected, the "Demon" was back on his feet in seconds. His movements were becoming sharper, his progress exponential.
"Hah! Not bad at all!" Kyara roared.
"But it doesn't matter who stands before me. In a struggle for life, I am the reaper!"
Kyara's forehead was a map of bulging veins. A terrifying, low-frequency growl vibrated in his chest.
"Regardless of your 'Friends'... I am the Executioner!"
Kyara and Marco reset their breathing and charged each other, their strikes aimed for the kill.
Suddenly—
"STOP!"
A voice boomed over the hall's public address system. It was a young man's voice, sharp and laced with a hint of genuine worry.
"!?"
Both Marco and Kyara froze. They recognized that voice instantly. It was Madarame Baku.
Kyara was a professional; he wasn't easily distracted by outside noise. But Marco was different. The second he heard "Baku-nii," he retracted his fist. His momentum didn't stop, however, and he continued to stumble toward Kyara with a look of confusion.
Kyara felt a surge of irritation, but he wasn't the type to execute an opponent who had dropped their guard. He threw his arms wide and caught the stumbling Marco in a bear-hug, then tossed him unceremoniously to the side.
"Fool!"
Kyara barked at the giant. "Trust should have limits! In this world, that kind of hesitation will get you buried!"
Marco blinked, looking dazed. "But... Baku-nii wouldn't hurt me?"
"..."
Kyara ground his teeth in frustration. He looked up at the security camera. "Lie Eater! You pathetic ghost! Are you trying to get your partner killed?!"
{ My, my... such a temper, Kyara-san! I have total faith in both of you. I knew you'd stop in time. }
Baku's voice carried a tone of relief. { Besides, you're all friends of mine. I'd hate to see anyone die tonight over a few slips of paper. }
"Save the sentiment," Kyara spat, cracking his knuckles. "Don't forget who I'm working for tonight. We're enemies, Baku."
{ Actually... about that. Take a look at the screens. }
Whirrrrr—
Several large monitor panels descended from the ceiling of the lower hall. They displayed a live feed of the Grand Ballroom on the upper deck.
{ Sorry to cut the sparring session short, Kyara-san, } Baku's voice chuckled over the speakers. { While you were busy playing with Marco... our 'Ally' was making a delivery. }
Everyone in the hall—mercenaries, enforcers, and debtors—looked up at the monitors.
On the screen, the doors to the Grand Ballroom burst open. A young man in a worn-out jumpsuit, gasping for air and drenched in sweat, stumbled into the room. He was clutching a massive, thick stack of cards.
Kaiji Itou.
Across the ballroom, Sadakuni's "Bald Enforcer" arrived a few seconds later, also carrying a stack.
But it was visually obvious: Kaiji's pile was nearly triple the size of the opponent's.
"Um... excuse me—"
Kaiji looked around the opulent ballroom, looking like a lost puppy. "Is there a Shigeru Akagi here? I was told to deliver these 'Ammo' cards to him!"
Akagi, sitting in his velvet chair, raised a hand with a weary smile. Kaiji hurried over and dumped the mountain of cards into Akagi's lap.
At the same time, the bald man handed his meager stack to Sadakuni.
With Mepu gone, Yagyo Hikoichi stood as the sole adjudicator. He inspected the two stashes with a refined, professional smile.
"Very well. The Retrieval Phase is officially concluded."
"In this gamble, the side with more 'Ammo' holds the ultimate strategic advantage. As it stands... the advantage belongs to Master Akagi."
Sadakuni's enforcer ground his teeth in fury. But Sadakuni himself remained stone-faced.
"I don't care about the numbers," the revolutionary whispered, his dead-man eyes fixed on Akagi. "Advantages are just numbers. I will not lose. Let the game begin!"
"..."
Facing the tidal wave of killing intent, the Man of the Divine Realm simply smiled.
Akagi looked straight into the camera, his eyes clear and impossibly bright—a purity that was the polar opposite of Marco's.
"No," Akagi said softly, his voice echoing through the ship. "You will lose."
"You will strain every neuron in your brain. you will plot, you will cheat, you will gamble your soul... and in the end, you will lose."
Tonight, the people of the Espoir were about to witness the true meaning of the Divine Realm.