Episode 10 - Behemoth Rises 2

At the same time.
The bell on the flower shop door chimed, signaling someone had entered.


“Welcome.”
“......”


The owner, who had been carefully wiping the petals of a rose, hurried to the entrance to greet the customer.


“What brings you here? A bouquet for your lover?”
“…….”


A flower shop in this dark alley might seem odd, but this place had been operating for three generations. Its main customers were those buying flowers to win the favor of the women working on the street.


But this customer was clearly not that kind of patron.


His clothes didn't quite fit right, and he had striking black curly hair and dark eyes...


As she felt an oddly ominous vibe and tried to step back, he suddenly raised his index finger and placed an order.


“...The lilac in the fifth pot on the seventh shelf, please.”
“......!”


The words that came out of his mouth were the code phrase the Four Gang Lord organization had previously relayed to her.
A customer presenting this order meant they had business at the organization's underground facility.


“Ah, understood. This way.”


Though the atmosphere felt off, she assumed he was just another common fixer for the Four Gang Lord organization and led him to the back storage room without suspicion.


Opening the storage door, she slid open a hidden metal hatch tucked in the far corner, revealing stairs leading underground.


“Well, I'll be going then...”
“Understood.”


Whispermere hadn't intended to reveal the password, but Kaftin's repeated warning to “not trust him” had made her wary.


As a result, she deliberately gave him the password to ensure nothing happened to the innocent flower shop owner.


Thanks to that, the shop owner could send him off without any friction.


Descending a few steps revealed a wide corridor.
Smooth stone tiles clearly indicated the floor and walls had been recently redone.


At the end of the corridor, a faint smile playing on his lips, stood a solidly closed iron door and two men standing guard.


“Huh? What's this? Who are you?”
“State your name and affiliation.”


The guard stepped forward, ready to verify his name and affiliation as usual.
But the man he was addressing...


“...Kaftin. Affiliated with Vesren's disciples.”
“What...?!?”
“Wait, hold on... You're not by any chance...”


One guard, unable to see him clearly in the dark passage, hastily pulled a torch hanging on the wall and held it close to him.


The guard's expression froze instantly upon seeing his figure revealed in the flickering light, and he immediately began pounding furiously on the iron door.


"It's him! He's here! Inform the boss immediately-!“
”Damn it! I never thought he'd actually show up! What a stroke of luck!"


Sparks flew from the eyes of the two guards.
Currently, a hefty bounty of 30 gold pieces hung on this insolent brat's head. On top of the 20 gold offered by the City Guard, the Four Gang Lords themselves had added another 10 gold pieces.


Smashing this brat's skull meant not only 30 gold coins, but also catching the Four Gang Lords' eye, making promotion to leadership a real possibility.


Without a moment's hesitation, the gang members drew the sturdy wooden clubs strapped to their waists and swung them with practiced skill.


“Thirty gold for this punk's head?! What a windfall!”
“Hey! Don't cut in line!”


An organization member, delayed by pounding on the iron door, swung his club while complaining.
But they, too, were unaware.
Of what kind of body their opponent possessed.


“Huh...?!
”What?!"


With a crunch, the wooden bat snapped, and Kaftin gripped the broken shard in his hand.


The sensation of striking metal from the hand that had struck him left their wrists numb. He drove the sharp, splintered shard of the bat straight into their throats.


“Ggluck!
“Hugluck?!”


He wanted to take them and enjoy them, but right now, there were four far more important prey.
He couldn't waste time on these vermin, so he thrust the blade deep into their throats in one swift motion, driving it right into their necks.


Gazing down at the two collapsing gang members, retching and spewing blood-foam, he immediately kicked open the iron door and hurried toward the arena.


*****


Just as the third match was getting underway, an organization member quietly approached the VIP seats and informed Athunga that the man had arrived.


“Huh... He's really coming. Prepare as planned.”
“...Understood.”


After the member bowed deeply and withdrew, a look of keen interest flashed across the Night Fist Lord's face.


“Finally... it seems my turn has come.”
“...Don't push yourself too hard. Even if he's some upstart claiming to have inherited half-baked martial arts...”
“Hmph! I know that! What do you take me for! I'm the Night Fist Lord! The one who rules the fists of this street!”


Though Athunga was two years his senior, in private they were like friends. True to that bond, the Night Fist Lord laughed heartily, slapping his friend's back with glee.


Kaftin had already arranged for a dedicated operative to guide them straight to the center of the arena.
Once either of them was dragged into the middle of that ring, he could choose his method of disposal.


“...Where exactly are we?”


Led cautiously by the guide, they arrived at the center of an arena. It wasn't enormous, but for an underground structure, it was surprisingly spacious, filled with deafening roars.


“Hey.”
“......”


Only after seeing the organization member hastily retreat, leaving Kaftin in the center, did Kaftin's expression sour.


Damn bastards.
Planning to make me their entertainment?


[Attention, attention! We'll pause the match here for a moment! But don't worry, spectators! The reason for the pause is precisely because of the special guest standing right here in the center of the arena!]


The commentator had already been briefed on how to handle Kaftin, so he naturally introduced him as a special guest, making him part of the event.


“What the hell?! Is he going to put on a show or what?!”
“Hey! Kid! Quick, show us something entertaining!”
“Ha ha ha! Or just spill some blood!”


The jeers and cheers from the stands made Kaftin's expression crumple as much as it could.


He hated crowded places and noisy places.
Especially crowded places—they meant more subjects to grasp and analyze, making him utterly exhausted.


“...All of them are enemies.”


The fact that he had already become a spectacle meant that whatever he did here from now on, these spectators would witness it. Therefore, every single face in those stands was a piece of trash he needed to eliminate.


The sooner the better.
Just as he reached into his robe to pull out a silver coin and toss it, a middle-aged man swept aside the veil of the VIP box and leaped onto the arena.


“Hey-! You're that... what was it? You said you were someone's disciple...”
“...Vesren. Vesren, the Torture Martial Arts expert.”
“Ah! Right, right! That was the name! Damn! You said you were that guy's disciple?”
“...Yes.”


A man with gray hair neatly swept back, wearing a vest with shoulder spikes and metal armor—the sort who must have been quite the heartthrob in his youth.
That was the first impression of Gabelth, the Night Fist Lord.


Despite that favorable impression, his hands were clad in what appeared to be a type of sestus – sinister-looking gloves resembling leather bandages studded with spikes all over.


Gabelth immediately assumed his basic fighting stance, preparing for battle.


“I hear you have a debt to repay to our Four Gang Lords... Well then, special guest, a generous service. You youngster.”
“......!”
“Come on! Try to knock me down! If you can, that is! Ha ha ha!”


The next instant, Gabelth rolled sideways.
The youth before him had flicked his arm without warning, sending two silver coins flying at incredible speed.


“You damn brat! You! You claim to be a disciple of Vesren? Why aren't you using the Torture Martial Arts?!”
“…….”
“Well now, I'm doing this service because I want to see your Torture Martial Arts! If you don't show them properly, I'm leaving.”


Gabelth hadn't come down here simply out of a desire to win.


He had taken the lead to let Athunga and the other Four Gang Lords verify whether this youth was truly the successor to the legendary Vesren.


“Well? Feeling up to it now?”
“...Understood. I'll fight you with Torture Martial Arts.”
“Glad we're on the same page.”


As Gabelth readjusted his stance, Kaftin's aura shifted abruptly.


The initially unsettling aura subsided, replaced by a damp, sticky... aura that seemed perfectly suited to these underground sewers.


“A splendid aura wave... Well then, let's see what you've got!”


He stepped into a fighting stance, provoking Kaftin.
Had it been the half-baked Torture Martial Arts of the past, he wouldn't have been able to properly respond to this provocation.


Because the Torture Martial Arts Vesren had devised back then weren't created by a proper martial artist. They lacked proper aura manipulation and footwork, being merely a set of hand techniques.


If this youth possessed only that, he posed no threat whatsoever to the Four Gang Lords themselves.
They had managed to defeat him back then, albeit with some difficulty.


But the youth before them clearly showed signs of being far beyond that level.
The moment he activated the aura within his body, the aura wave he emitted was blatantly obvious.


It meant he was at least capable of manipulating his aura.


Feeling slightly tense, I tested his range by stepping forward in footwork, advancing half a step at a time, then retreating, repeating the pattern to provoke him.


“Hey! Kid! Come on, show me what you've got!”
“...A Course.”
“...?!”


Different.
Clearly different from before.
Vesren broke out in a cold sweat and immediately took a couple of steps back with a backstep.


“This kid... footwork?!”


Yes.
Just as he took that half-step to taunt, in that split second, a scratching sound of metal echoed, and the guy's form instantly closed in right before his eyes.


Not only that, but in that brief instant, he even attempted to step on the top of Gabelth's foot, which was positioned right in front of him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.


“Hey! Kid! Can I ask you something?”
“...Yeah.”
“About... your master. Is he still alive?”


A dry swallow could be heard from Athunga's throat as he watched the fight.


His master, Vesren, had tortured and killed countless people as a freelance interrogation technician in the underworld, gaining access to vast amounts of information about the criminal underworld during that time.


Among that information were many things that were fatal to the Four Gang Lords themselves, and so he had to be eliminated.


But if he were still alive...


It was a thought he didn't even want to entertain.
No, if he had been alive all along, why hadn't he come out into the open?


Because he knew he'd be eliminated anyway?
No way. If he managed to spread what he knew to the world, the Four Gang Lords themselves would be ousted immediately.
That's the kind of scandal he held onto until his death. Vesren.


“......”
“Hey. Won't you answer me? I'm just a little curious. Your Torture Martial Arts have clearly evolved several levels beyond what I experienced.”
“...He's dead.”
“Oh. Could you tell me when he passed?”
“...It's been almost a year.”
“......!”


Even Gabelth swallowed hard.
That slithering bastard of a torturer—he survived and escaped, despite being beaten that badly?


And to think he's managed to survive nearly twenty years, lying low like a dead rat...
It was a blow to the pride of the Night Fist Lord himself, who championed murderous combat.


“That... is a bit of an unpleasant story for me.”
“Why?”
"I'm the Night Fist Lord. You know that, right? The top killer in the underworld. But to think a guy I beat to a pulp in my prime didn't die, escaped alive, and has been living for nearly 20 years... it's shocking.“
”...He wasn't exactly alive and well. Your fists weren't entirely useless, I suppose.“
”......!"


Kaftin slowly touched his left thigh and then his left shoulder alternately.


“...He couldn't walk without a brace on one leg, and his left arm was a prosthetic. His right eye was blurry too, I see. There was a scar near his eye as well.”
“...Eye? That's the venom from the Veilslayer Lord. I didn't hit his face.”
“…Is that so. Then the left arm and left leg must be your doing?”
“…The left leg was me. Definitely. The sound of bones breaking and the screams still ring clear in my ears?”


Gabelth smiled as he spoke, as if the memories of that day were vividly resurfacing before Kaftin.
Before him, Kaftin also smiled.


-To be continued-