The lights of the skyscrapers resembled an inverted galaxy, illuminating the veins of Tokyo.
From the neon glow of Roppongi to the brilliance of Ginza, each beam of light spoke of the city's vibrancy and rhythm. Amid this dazzling brightness, streams of people flowed like gentle currents, weaving through streets and alleys.
But behind the bustling facade lay shadows—darkness hidden within narrow alleys.
A man ran frantically, terror etched on his face, as though a demon pursued him. Finally, he stumbled to a stop, despair flooding his eyes. He had reached a dead end.
Desperation often ignites courage.
Gritting his teeth, he drew a pistol in his left hand and a dagger in his right. His stance was clumsy, his weapons crossed awkwardly, but his gaze was locked on the figure emerging from the darkness.
"Why are you after me?! I didn't do anything! I don't know anything!"
The man, a level-seven explorer known as Sayaksha, screamed, his voice trembling. "Stay back! You may be fast, but you're not faster than a bullet!"
The wind shifted the clouds above, and moonlight pierced through, revealing the figure in the shadows.
It was a young man in casual attire, standing roughly six feet tall. His cascading, waterfall-like hair framed a face so exquisitely handsome that even women might envy it.
Yet beneath his clothes, the taut contours of his muscles betrayed his gender and immense strength.
The young man's expression was deranged, his once-beautiful face twisted with madness. "It was you….It was you who took my beloved god away….It was you! Ah….Without my god, how can I face this wretched world?"
"Kiryu Setsuna….listen to me!" Sayaksha stammered, cold sweat streaming down his face. "I don't know where you got your information, but I'm just a regular fighter! I have nothing to do with Tokita Ohma's death!"
Sayaksha now understood why he was being hunted.
The man before him—Kiryu Setsuna—was the infamous obsessive stalker from the original Kengan Ashura.
His strength was as terrifying as his twisted devotion to Ohma. Now, with Ohma dead, Kiryu had clearly descended further into madness.
Cursing the unknown culprit who killed Tokita Ohma a thousand times over in his heart, Sayaksha knew it wouldn't save him now.
Although he was a level-seven explorer with a superhuman physique compared to this world's martial artists, their brief skirmish had left his chest mangled. His skin and ribs had been contorted into a gruesome spiral from Kiryu's Rakshasa Palm.
"Ohma….Don't worry. I'll tear apart the one who killed you. And in the ecstasy of avenging you, I will find release."
Kiryu Setsuna's face flushed as he folded his arms, stepping closer to Sayaksha with a blissful expression.
"You sick freak!"
With a desperate roar, Sayaksha fired his gun while charging with his dagger.
The gunshot echoed, but in the next moment, Kiryu and Sayaksha passed each other. Sayaksha's head twisted grotesquely, his body collapsing lifelessly to the ground.
Standing over the corpse, Kiryu gazed at the moonlit sky. "Ah….Ohma…"
------
In a martial arts training arena filled with wooden stakes, two figures dashed about with blinding speed, the echoes of their strikes reverberating through the air.
Their clash ended abruptly, both figures leaping apart and landing on separate stakes.
The man on the right had skin flushed a deep violet, bulging veins resembling thunderous markings etched across his body. His face twisted into an ecstatic grin, brimming with fighting spirit. "Ren! Come on, let's keep going!"
This man, whose expressions could rival abstract art, was Kure Raian—a genius of the Kure Clan.
Opposite him stood Ren, his shirtless upper body showcasing a physique unlike ordinary men.
His skin seemed ordinary at first glance, but his muscles were swollen with exertion, and dark purple veins bulged as if lightning streaked across his flesh.
He, too, had unleashed the Kure Clan's secret technique, Removal. Yet his manifestation differed from Raian's. Rather than his entire body changing colour, only the areas where blood flowed intensely revealed a peculiar hue.
Kure Erioh, the clan patriarch, had commented that he had never seen such a variant of Removal. Ren suspected it was due to his unique physiology, coupled with his current low mastery of the technique.
This was Ren's fifth day with the Kure Clan. The deal between them had gone smoothly: he had exchanged the training methods for Armament Haki for their tutelage in Removal.
The Kure Clan's secret art was truly extraordinary, though it had taken him two days of rigorous effort—and guidance from Raian and Karura—to grasp its basics.
Not that Raian was much of a teacher. His impatience made him a poor instructor. In contrast, Karura, a natural-born honours student, proved an excellent guide.
Her only flaw? She often tried to turn their lessons into private sessions, frequently suggesting 'alternative' training locations—like her bedroom.
Ren had skillfully dodged all her advances.
"That's enough for today," Ren declared, leaping down from a stake and reverting to his normal state. "You've made significant progress. Take some time to rest and reflect on the sensation you had earlier. Don't just rely on your eyes—feel the flow of power."
Karura jogged over, handing him a towel and water bottle. "Ren, now can we have kids?!"
Ren sighed, feeling an impending headache. He couldn't stay much longer with the Kure Clan—sooner or later, trouble would find him.
"How much have you unlocked?" Raian asked bluntly, snatching a water bottle from Karura and downing it, ignoring her glare.
"About 20%, I think," Ren replied, wiping sweat from his face. "I'm not part of your clan, so this might be my limit for now."
"Tch. You piss me off. I'll kill you someday," Raian muttered with a scowl.
Ren's mastery of Removal had left the Kure Clan in shock. This secret technique was typically taught only to the Kure Clan's main family members from a very young age, requiring years of diligent practice before it could be used effectively.
Even Raian, the clan's most gifted prodigy, had taken four months to grasp Removal.
Kalura, though also a genius, had required five months.
Yet Ren, an outsider, had mastered the technique in just two days. This achievement left many in the Kure Clan questioning their own abilities—and perhaps, their life choices.
"If you can manage that, you're welcome to try anytime. But first, focus on mastering what I've taught you."
Ren spoke with a smile. Over the past few days, he had spent countless hours sparring with Raian, often training from dawn until dusk.
When they first met, Ren had utterly crushed Raian in a fight, leaving the young prodigy battered and humiliated.
However, this wasn't because Raian was weak.
The truth was, at this point in time, Raian was still young—a hotheaded, reckless warrior with a thirst for bloodshed. I
f this had been the Raian of four or five years later, Ren knew victory would not have come so easily.
Ren vividly remembered that, in the latter stages of the original story, Raian had become one of the few fighters closest to reaching this world's concept of 'immortality'.
Raian's talent was nothing short of extraordinary. Whether it was raw physical stats or technical skill, there were no weak points in his arsenal. The only thing Raian truly lacked was….discipline.
Yes, Kure Erioh, the patriarch of the Kure Clan, was most impressed by Ren's ability to teach Raian—through beatings, of course.
Ren had been relentlessly 'educating' Raian these past few days, showing the young warrior what it meant to encounter someone vastly superior.
For years, Raian had been undefeated within the Kure Clan, especially given Kure Erioh's declining strength with age. This lack of challenge had caused Raian's growth to stagnate.
"Ha? Do you think I'm just anyone? Give me a few more days and I'll master it—and then I'll kill you!"
Raian's response was characteristically aggressive. However, after spending time with him, Ren had come to realize that Raian had a bit of a tsundere streak.
Despite constantly threatening to kill him, it was clear that Raian had started to respect him—though he'd never admit it outright.
"Raian," Ren said with a serious expression, "remember this: strength without conviction is nothing more than violence. It isn't martial arts. When you can transform your power into true martial artistry, come and challenge me again."
"Tch! Who are you to lecture me? Shut up already! I'm going to train some more!"
Raian, visibly annoyed, slammed down his water bottle and stormed back into the training arena.
Watching Raian's retreating figure, Ren's expression grew sombre.
He couldn't help but wonder—if Tokita Ohma were still alive, would he have eventually become friends with Raian during their time in the Kure Clan?
But Ohma was dead, and his death had set off a storm that swept across the world.
Ren glanced at the information displayed on his communicator's public channel, his expression hardening.
It was time for him to move.
__________
[T/N] - The plot is starting to pick up! Anyways, you guys know the drill—60 Powerstones for an extra chapter.