Chapter 32

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Translator: Ace

Chapter: 032

Chapter Title: Riffraff [6]

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I'd landed a counter punch square to his face to kick off the fight, but it didn't feel like a great start. I glared at him.

The hulking Sowalin, who'd backed away to create distance, was grinning.

A cocky expression that screamed, That all you got? It wasn't just empty taunting—my punch had actually been solid enough to warrant it. A hit like that should've crushed his face ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠or snapped his neck, even for a physical enhancer, but the bastard just had blood trickling from his nose and that was it.

This wasn't going to be easy. A fair-and-square win right now wasn't the priority—rescuing those women was. So I called in reinforcements first.

"Get to 27 Haedong Villa, as fast as you can..."

Even as I whispered into the radio, I kept my eyes on him. There was a dagger at his waist that looked like a backup weapon, and the moment I saw it, I decided against using Teleportation mid-fight. Not for some noble sense of fair play, but because flashing some 'sneaky' skill like that would probably make him draw that dagger and swing it around.

The brute snorted, clearing the blood from his nose, then dropped back into stance. He started closing in, then bent his knees low. Classic tackle position. No level change or anything.

Like a raging tiger, the hulk charged straight at me, arms outstretched to grapple.

His movements were lightning-fast, but so predictably frontal that countering wasn't hard.

I slipped my arm into his armpit and hoisted him up. Thud!

I stomped the side of the sprawled brute. Not the fleshy smack of meat on meat, but the thunderous crack of a hammer slamming concrete.

His face twisted in agony from the fall and the kick, but he didn't pass out or freeze up in pain.

"Yak—!"

He roared, slamming both palms ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠into the ground.

His massive body flipped into the air, legs whipping through empty space, and he sprang right back to his feet.

No time to marvel at this cartoonish reset only a physical enhancer could pull off—straight out of taekwondo or wrestling impossibility.

The instant he regained his footing, he attacked. His hips and legs exploded into motion.

I could tell what was coming just from the wind-up.

His mid-kick tore through the air toward me; I smashed it down with my elbow, then cracked his jaw with a follow-up. He staggered back again.

His expression turned serious as he created distance. A damn it look—like mine, calm on the surface but raging inside.

Damn it for real.

Kick, elbow, punch—none of my strikes felt like they landed with real damage. Like hitting a boulder, not flesh.

Meanwhile, the brute looked shocked that I'd blocked every one of his attacks. He was starting to feel the skill gap between us.

And no wonder. Even if ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he'd trained in martial arts, I doubted he'd sparred with as many fighters as me or with my intensity. Forget assessing otherworld MMA levels—this guy had never stepped on the stages I'd dominated.

An amateur, plain and simple.

But in fighting, weight class trumps all. A featherweight champ can't guarantee victory over a heavyweight amateur.

And from our exchanges, despite being shorter and less muscled than me, his weight class felt superior. As a physical enhancer, he seemed even stronger.

Naturally—he'd been awakened longer than my five years, tempered over more time, hunted more monsters.

I kept the tension flowing through my body off my face. No roaring either—just growled.

"Come on, you amateur punk."

He might not have understood the words, but he got the taunt and roared back in my place.

He charged. My mid-kick to halt his rush—failed.

His wrist clamped my ankle.

No problem. No need for Teleportation.

The moment he grabbed, I spun my whole body. A full-weight roundhouse smashed into his neck, and this time, even he couldn't shrug it off.

His grip on my ankle loosened.

I lunged to finish the staggering brute, slamming his body to the ground and wrapping my thick arm around his equally thick neck.

He seemed to black out for a second, then realized too late he was being choked.

Desperate to escape, he hammered punches into my body. Unbelievable impacts for a guy starved of oxygen—but I endured.

As I kept squeezing, he twisted wildly, rolling his whole body. I rolled with him, and that's when I felt how much heavier he was.

Like getting run over by a multi-ton truck—guard or clinch, useless. I was swept up in his insane weight and power. Stronger physical enhancer meant denser bones, denser muscles.

If he'd used that strength advantage to pin me right there, I might've been done for—but he didn't.

Once the roll stopped and we lay facing each other, he shoved me off hard, escaped the choke, scrambled away, and created distance.

Only after getting pretty far did he stand.

Meanwhile, I rose slowly, casually—though really, I'd just gritted through the pain—and eyed him.

I read the fear and shock on his face.

A gorilla cowering before a human fighter.

I couldn't let him realize that if he ditched technique, grabbed my neck, and just pummeled wildly, it'd be over for me. Absolutely not.

So I charged first.

I jabbed; he backpedaled to dodge, but hit the wall.

Cornered, he swung a desperate punch with a twisted face. I parried with my left, then smashed his face.

Of course, he shook it off. We traded blows nonstop.

I leaned back to evade his swinging fist, then countered. My punch nailed his nasal bridge clean, but he barely wobbled.

So he could fire back the instant he ate the hit.

I guarded with my left; his deflected punch grazed my forehead. Blood trickled from the split skin.

The glancing impact tore the neck muscles I'd just regenerated from being half-severed earlier. Skin ripped too, blood flowing from my neck—but if I'd eaten another clean, I'd be dead. He didn't notice.

Backing off would've let him spot it.

I feinted a retreat then surged forward. My uppercut hammered his jaw; he finally staggered. I hooked his leg, and down he went.

Mounting him, I rained down lefts and rights until he stopped moving. Not dead—out cold. I whispered in his ear.

"Speaking for the ref—I win, you little shit."

A few slaps to confirm, then I shuddered with adrenaline. This wasn't just fighter beating fighter.

I'd overcome the horrific future from my vision, that mangled fate.

I felt the payoff of all my hunting and training in every fiber. Without reflexes this sharp, I'd be dead by that knife hand already. Without bulking up to the brink of death, skill gap or not, I'd be gone in one shot...

I barely held back a victory yell.

I stood and scanned the audience here.

First, the two Sowalins—minions to the fallen hulk, no doubt. Pure spectators. They hadn't interfered from start to finish. Now, they stared at me in terror.

"What're you looking at?"

The moment my gaze hit them, they flattened themselves to the ground like the first Sowalin we'd met.

Then I turned to the ice awakener women.

A scream erupted from one. Following her eyes, a Deathclaw's forepaw was emerging from the purple gate.

I didn't flinch. My mental web had already pinged my minions' approach.

Footsteps echoed. I turned to see my hunter team sprinting full-tilt this way.

Leading as always: Baek Dam-bi. The Deathclaw fresh from the gate took a hail of 5.56mm rounds to the skull from her light machine gun and slumped limp.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Another clueless Deathclaw poking out got shredded too—no misses. Baek Dam-bi blasted away right at the gate's mouth, fearless of those claws.

Two more Deathclaws emerged in sequence and died to her point-blank fire.

Even I had to admit—it was badass. Seriously.

Compared to the three shivering ice awakeners. I shot one a reproachful look.

"While I was fighting, why not subdue these two Sowalins and run? They don't even seem like awakeners."

"Subdue them? With my ability?"

Stating the obvious, so I just stared. She mumbled.

"I don't really know how."

"Don't you instinctively know how to use your ability?"

"I do, but I've been trying to forget. Practiced not to use it unconsciously."

"Practiced not to use it? Why?"

"Can't just kill people unconsciously, right? So..."

Come to think of it, back in the Korean Awakener Alliance days, I'd heard they forced facility awakeners not to use abilities with some weird training.

I closed my eyes, opened them, and said.

"My bad, shouldn't have said that. Sorry. No injuries?"

"None... Thank you so much for saving us. But you're hurt bad already. Your neck and shirt are soaked in blood..."

"I'm tough like that—sleep it off, good as new."

I shrugged and stared blankly at the gate. No more monsters emerging from that purple rift—the one from my hallucination. In the vision, legless me had crawled inside.

No need now. No crawling, no entering...

I was thinking that, still eyeing the downed hulk, when Baek Dam-bi's voice pierced my ears.

"Hey, should we check inside the gate?"

I whipped around, horrified.

"Why the hell would we go in?"

"You know it's recommended—enter gates when possible, scout the monsters inside. Reporting what you see counts as major merit and rewards..."

No need for either of us to chase rewards now, I almost said, but stopped.

Like with the Flame Spirit last time, my round girl didn't want to miss a chance to shine.

She wanted to prove her worth again. Scared to go solo, though.

"Sure, whatever."

And with her, I stepped into the gate.

The purple world welcomed us.

We emerged about ten minutes later.

"Ah, we're out!"

"How was it? Swarming with monsters in there?"

Lee Jong-ho, Seong Mun-yeong, and the others peppered questions, but I ignored them. Not in the mood to chat.

My eyes caught the late-arriving Naoto guy. That fucker, basically the rep for the shady non-awakeners.

I looked at him, swallowing the words nearly bursting from my throat.

Worthless non-awakener trash...