Chapter Fifty-Three: "Beasts" and "Monsters"

“Huh? ‘Monster’? That little guy? He’s still wearing casual clothes!”
“Is the famous Kengan Association so desperate for hype? Hey! Take it seriously!”

Within the Arena of Final Desperation, the world-class stage equipment left nothing unseen.
Every nuance of the fighters’ appearance and demeanor, every subtle word, was laid bare before the tens of thousands of spectators.
So, when Julius and Mirror Bai appeared one after another, the murmurs in the audience rose like crashing waves.
Standing over six feet tall, clad in ordinary attire with pronounced muscular definition, Mirror Bai was already a “giant” by most standards.
Yet everything is relative.
Standing next to Julius, the boy’s physical stats—no, the stats of every fighter in the Kengan Association—
—compared to him, all seemed as fragile as porcelain dolls!
The boy’s head barely reached Julius’s chest.
Wearing only a bodybuilding brief, Julius’s sinewed body was a living mountain of muscle towering before him!
Under Julius’s downward gaze, even the arena lights failed to reach Mirror Bai’s upper body.
Shrouded in shadow, it was as if half his life had already been swallowed by the “monster” before him!

“Not changing clothes?” The muscular giant asked, expressionless. “Let me make it clear: I hate cowards who prepare excuses for their defeat in advance.”
His fist, as large as a human head, hovered beside Mirror Bai’s ear, slowly clenching.
“If you’re one of those, I’ll break every bone in your body during the match.”
The referee, drenched in sweat, looked torn between professional duty and primal survival instinct, wanting to step in yet unable to approach.
But the boy, with the fist looming at his ear, merely gave a carefree smile.
“Don’t worry, old man,” Mirror Bai tugged at his collar indifferently. “The fighters before me wore less to reduce resistance and minimize places for their opponent to grab, but I don’t need that. After all, against me...
This match is inherently unfair for you.”

“...”
“Hmph—” After a brief silence, Julius withdrew his menacing fist. “Not a coward, but an arrogant brat? Fine, at least that’s not unpleasant.”
The eased tension seemed to give the referee courage.
He seized the moment, hurriedly dropped his arm to signal the start, then retreated as if fleeing for his life.

“The match begins!”
Boom!
The roar of the fist landed almost simultaneously with the announcement!
Mirror Bai remained relaxed, his body loose—
Julius’s colossal fist smashed into his abdomen!
Contrary to the stereotype that bigger men move slower,
Julius Reinhardt was a “monster” capable of hauling his two-hundred-kilogram frame at racecar-like acceleration!
And his fists—were even faster! Even fiercer!
His head-sized fist struck the boy, driving deep into the soft belly with a force that threatened to tear through flesh.
The surrounding sand was whipped up by the shockwave, rippling in a circle of dust.
Twisting his waist, shifting his stance, unleashing his power!
The biotech-created “monster” did not stop. His muscles, like springs powering a second burst of force,
lunged forward, his fist pinned to Mirror Bai’s abdomen, forcibly launching him backward!
Woosh—
The circular shockwave barely settled before the flying boy broke through it, carried by the rushing air.
Mirror Bai’s legs lifted from the ground in an almost comic exaggeration, and he crashed into the concrete perimeter wall at the edge of the arena with a gale-like howl!
Bang!
The concrete wall, usually indestructible in the eyes of ordinary people, proved no stronger than a stack of blocks under this impact.
Concrete and embedded steel burst outward,
a cloud of dust rising at least three meters high!

“...”
The spectators in the Arena of Final Desperation were stunned by Julius’s display of brute force, left speechless.
But immediately, the crowd erupted like a tidal wave.
“Whoa!!!!”

“This power! This indescribable muscular strength! Now that is a man!”
“Monster! Monster! Monster!”
“That so-called ‘Monster’ is just a coward! How could he ever compare to Julius!”
The roar of the crowd reached a peak unseen since the Kengan Deadly Tournament began!
Meanwhile, in the special seats, the fighters watching up close all stared at the muscle mountain who stood calmly, fists slowly relaxing, with grave and incredulous eyes.
“Wakatsuki, that kind of power...” The blond, handsome Cosmos Imai pointed at the arena, his jaw slack in awe. “With a swing that could only be called ‘amateurish,’ he sent over eighty kilograms flying at least twenty meters in less than a second...”
Wakatsuki Takeshi, seated beside him, understood his meaning.
If he were in the ring, could he do the same?
The steady Wakatsuki weighed it in his mind.
But, encountering for the first time in his life a true equal in raw strength, he could not answer.
After a moment of reflection, he could only furrow his brow and remain silent.

Up in the highest tier of the arena, within a VIP box reserved for world leaders and the ultra-rich,
an old man, half his face melted by burns, sat in regal comfort, swirling a glass of rare red wine as he watched the live battle unfold.
In the shadows behind him stood Nikaido Ren, arm freshly casted, and even injured, the beastly Meguro Masaki.

“So,” Hayami Katsumasa swirled his wine, “this is the kid, the reckless brat who dared to meddle in the Kengan Deadly Tournament, and managed to injure you both during the assault?”
“Yes, boss.”
“Useless,” the grotesque old man propped his chin, crossed his legs with indifference. “But it doesn’t matter. Before Julius’s muscles, nothing counts as an obstacle.”
He raised his glass,
as if abandoning the now tedious spectacle below.
The live broadcast on the television, filtered through the wine, took on a blood-red hue.
And behind him, Nikaido Ren could see in the glass and wine’s reflection, on that terrifying half-face—
—that demon’s grin!