As the seven armed men rushed toward the source of the gunfire, the door to the room suddenly swung open, stopping them dead in their tracks. A body was hurled toward them—it was one of their own, lying on the ground, barely clinging to life. His hands were in a state so horrifying that even their worst imaginations couldn't compare.
— "Huh? Is that... Dai?"
— "Hey, Dai! What the hell happened to you? What's with your hands?"
The men stood frozen, staring at Dai's trembling body. He struggled to breathe, his gaze locked onto the open doorway. With a broken, rasping voice, he muttered:
— "It's... it's... ugh, that son of a bitch..."
Instantly, their eyes snapped to the entrance.
There stood a man clad in a black hoodie and matching pants, a half-smile playing on his lips. His voice was calm, almost playful.
— "Let's play a game. You're the mice... and I'm the tiger."
(A/N: Wait, wasn't it supposed to be the cat and the mouse?)
Ken felt his instincts screaming—there was no way he could lose here. His body was already locked into flow state, his movements precise, his mind sharp.
The driver, Dai's accomplice, widened his eyes in shock.
— That kid... he did this?
But that thought barely had time to form before he shook it off and roared:
— "Kill that son of a bitch!"
The seven men, armed with makeshift weapons, rushed forward with confidence. But Ken had no intention of being overwhelmed.
He weaved through the first attacker's strike, disarmed the second in an instant, and with a swift wrist lock, sent him crashing to the ground. A powerful kick to the stomach sent another flying into the wall.
The fight was over in mere seconds. Ken was like a machine, dismantling his opponents with cold precision. A strike to the ribs here, an elbow to the temple there—one by one, they collapsed like ragdolls.
When only two remained, Ken flicked a knife toward the driver, who had just turned to flee. The blade embedded itself into the wall beside him, stopping him dead in his tracks.
The last remaining thug lunged at Ken in a desperate attempt, but Ken twisted out of the way and delivered a brutal chop to the back of his neck. The man crumpled to the ground.
Six men, completely incapacitated. Ken stood among them, breathing steadily, completely in control.
This wasn't a fight.
It was a dance.
Ken turned his gaze toward the driver, who was now trembling in terror.
— "S-stay back, you bastard!"
Just as Ken took another step forward, a slow, deliberate sound echoed through the warehouse.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
— "Impressive. That was quite the show… You're special forces, aren't you?"
The voice came from the far end of the room. Three figures had just entered—two towering men in black suits flanking a woman with a cold, mesmerizing beauty. Her short black hair framed sharp, piercing eyes. Clad entirely in black, she radiated an aura of danger and intrigue.
The two men leveled their pistols at Ken, their movements slow and deliberate. They closed the distance, stopping just five steps away.
The driver, who had been frozen with fear moments ago, suddenly grinned and ran toward the woman.
— "Doctor! Doctor, this—"
"Dispose of him."
Bang. Bang.
He never got to finish his sentence.
Without even sparing him a glance, the woman gave the order, her voice devoid of emotion. One of her guards pulled the trigger without hesitation, putting two bullets straight through his head. His body collapsed in a lifeless heap.
Ken, however, remained still.
He didn't flinch.
His mind had already shifted into combat mode. His focus sharpened, his heartbeat steady. His body was primed, every muscle under control. This was what he was—an expert in close-quarters combat.
The woman watched him with growing interest, a hint of color rising to her cheeks, an unsettling excitement flickering in her eyes.
— "Tell me... I need to know where this magnificent little toy of mine comes from."
— "You're the doctor they were talking about, aren't you? The one who experiments on humans?"
A predatory smile stretched across her lips.
— "Oh… so you even know the rules of the game you and I are about to play? How delightful. Too bad that mutt barked when he shouldn't have. A little housekeeping was necessary."
A thick silence filled the air. Ken and the woman locked eyes, reading each other.
Then, she chuckled, tilting her head.
— "You see these two?" She gestured at her guards, still pointing their guns at Ken. "Of course you do. Former special forces, both of them. Highly trained killers."
Her smirk widened.
— "So, if you understand the situation, be a good boy and come with me. I'll take excellent care of you, my precious little toy."
Ken let out a low chuckle before replying in a mocking tone:
— "I have a better idea. I take down your two guard dogs... and negotiate your life instead. Sound fair?"
Her smile didn't falter.
— "Oh, I do love your confidence… But you know very well that whether you're dead or alive, you'll still be useful to me."
Ken glanced at the muzzles of the guns aimed at him and smirked.
Game on.
— "Eliminate him," the woman ordered coldly.
Ken dodged the gunfire, his reflexes pushing his body faster than his mind could register. He sprinted across the room, moving with lethal precision.
His first opponent struck first—a fast, calculated punch. Ken ducked, seized the man's arm, and twisted it into a brutal lock. The man barely had time to react before Ken slammed him into the floor. A knee strike to the gut sent him flying back.
The second man lunged, attempting to grab Ken by the throat. But Ken slipped under his arms, flipped forward, and landed behind him. Without hesitation, he locked his arm around the man's neck in a crushing chokehold. The man thrashed, but Ken tightened his grip like a steel vice. Within seconds, the fight was over.
It had taken Ken less than a minute to take down two former special forces veterans.
The woman, who had exuded such confidence moments ago, was now frozen, eyes wide with disbelief.
What the hell was that? Is that even humanly possible? Dodging bullets... taking down two elite fighters like they were nothing? Who IS he?
Ken stepped forward, eyes locked on hers.
Damn, Blue, I should've trusted you sooner, he thought. He wanted to grin, to laugh, to celebrate surviving in such an absurdly badass way. But not yet. He was still hungry. The game wasn't over.
A ridiculous thought crossed his mind.
What if I had chosen "Ant Trainer" instead of "CQC Expert" just for fun?
A shiver ran down his spine at the horrifying idea.
Nope. Let's not go there.
He raised the Desert Eagle, aiming it squarely at the woman's forehead. A smirk curled his lips.
— "Let's see how much your life is worth."
She swallowed, tension flickering in her eyes.
— "What... do you want?"
Ken's smirk widened.
— "Two simple things."
— "30 million yen."
Her expression darkened.
— "And?"
Ken held her gaze, his tone unwavering.
— "Get me a bartender job."