#128 The War is Over

"I thought I was gonna die from the pain."

Rubbing my numb jaw, I muttered to myself. Hitting a handsome face like this? Jet Stream was clearly overflowing with inferiority complex toward me. I was taller than him, had a better build, was better looking, richer, had more stamina, was younger on top of that, and as the crowning achievement, I possessed multiple level 10 superpowers. I surpassed Jet Stream in every single way. He had every reason to envy me.

"Ahh... why did God make me this perfect...!"

God must've put an insane amount of effort into crafting me.

"... Wait a sec?"

Hold on. I created this character, didn't I? Like a master pencil sharpener, I'd meticulously sculpted this body from head to toe. And it was also me who'd bestowed this overflowing wealth, handsome looks, and superpowers. So does that mean... I'm God?

"Ahh... yeah, that's right. I am the god who descended upon this land!"

Oh my God! Jesus Christ! Finally, I understood my true identity. I was the great god Lucifer, who had clipped my own wings and come down to earth to beautify the darkness-shrouded Dark City!

"If you bind and cage me, love shall be bound too!"

The future bound as well!

"How about getting up now, Jet Stream? Sleeping there will make your mouth crooked."

"....."

Jet Stream, who had been lying spread-eagled like the character for "big" while staring at the sky, rose to his feet at my words. He rubbed his jaw, probably sore from the Rising Dragon Fist I'd landed on him.

"One-two! ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠One-two!"

"....."

I stretched my arms out straight, loosening up my body too. Thanks to getting thoroughly pummeled by him, I felt amazingly refreshed. It was like getting a massage from a pro—hell, from a Bangkok masseuse. Felt great, but left me feeling kinda filthy. Still, I'd achieved exactly what I set out to do.

Not only had I grasped all of Jet Stream's superpower traits ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and skills, but I'd even uncovered his real name, which the Hero Association didn't know. Drain Tomahawk. A name that made me crave meat. Guess I'd tear into some steak for dinner later.

The guy should've killed me before using his superpower seven times. That was his one and only 0.1% chance of beating me. But he failed within those seven uses, and now his last shot at victory was gone.

Through the level 4 trait Precision Analysis, I read Jet Stream's movements. With the level 7 trait Pattern Analysis, I pinpointed his attack paths whenever he used his superpower. In other words, Jet Stream's attacks were completely sealed off. If he couldn't attack, he'd never win.

"Heh heh heh."

As the traits activated, red and blue lines sprang up around Jet Stream. Red for superpower-enhanced moves, blue for regular ones.

"Jet Stream. You can never beat me now."

"....."

Pssshhhhh—!

Jet Stream ignored my taunt, silently preparing to attack. Thick smoke billowed from his elbows and heels.

'... Ah! So he uses blood as fuel.'

As the smoke poured out, Jet Stream's skin turned deathly pale. I'd thought he was just naturally fair-skinned from the start, but no. He burned his own blood as fuel for his superpower.

Whoosh—slash—!

Jet Stream vanished.

"... Hmph."

But I didn't need to panic like before. The moment he activated his superpower, all the red lines branching out vanished except one. He'd locked in his attack path in his mind.

I'd known where he'd go even before he disappeared. Fighting with foreknowledge was a cakewalk.

"....!"

As I stepped forward and threw a punch, Jet Stream materialized right in front of me like a painting coming to life. My fist slammed dead-center into his solar plexus. Payback for that solar plexus shot earlier.

Jet Stream's eyes bulged in disbelief at the reality before him. But this was real.

"Your dick's busted!"

Before he could retreat, I grabbed his collar and yanked him toward me. (If the spacing looks weird, that's your imagination.) Gripping Jet Stream's collar tight, I hauled him in with all my strength.

"Kuh...!"

"Oh? Holding up?"

With two traits boosting his physical abilities, he had some real grit. Looked like slamming him down with one hand wasn't gonna cut it.

"Fine, both hands it is."

Bonus: repulsion skill. I placed my left hand on his back and triggered repulsion.

Bam—!

"....!"

Overwhelmed by the irresistible force from above, Jet Stream had no choice but to drop to his knees. That canceled out my little Method acting kneel from earlier. Or wait—did I kneel more? Nah, kneeling means surrender, so better not lose.

Streamy, you kneel plenty instead!

"Grr... grraaaah!"

On his knees, Jet Stream thrashed to stand. But my iron grip held him like a noose—he couldn't budge.

"Gruuuh!"

Attraction.

"What?!"

Seemed like he wanted to get up, so I used attraction to lift him. I show mercy even to enemies—I'm Kisaragi Kisaragi, I am generous!

"Jet Stream. Ever done a bungee jump without a cord?"

"You little...!"

I grabbed his waist and charged forward. He pounded my back trying to escape, but I'd once dreamed of being a national wrestling rep. Gave it up after one day thanks to the opponent's BO, but still.

"Let's go, Jetty!"

Arms around Jet Stream, I leaped off the hotel rooftop. We plummeted helplessly toward the ground, and right before impact, I swung him downward with everything I had.

"Rooftop Powerbomb!"

KABOOOOOM—!

The ground shook like an earthquake.

*****

KABOOOOOM—!

"Wh-what the...?"

"That was...?"

The earth trembled like a bomb had dropped, like an actual quake. The blood-maddened fighters slaughtering each other froze in unison. They stared wide-eyed in shock.

"Ugh! This shit hurts like hell."

"....."

No kidding—my whole body throbbed. Pain stabbed my gut; probably cracked a few ribs. Even for me, powerbombing Jet Stream from that height in such an awkward position was risky. Damn Newton's third law.

But the risk paid off big time. Jet Stream lay motionless in the massive crater like he was dead. His chest's faint rise and fall proved he was still alive.

I dragged him out by the leg.

"B-boss! It's the boss!"

"Boss won!"

"We won!"

Waaaaaaah—!

The second I emerged hauling the half-dead Jet Stream, the baldies and Don Quixote alliance cheered wildly.

"Not a wolf... a tiger after all?"

Don Quixote looked sour. He'd probably hoped for mutual destruction between me and Jet Stream. Wish in one hand, young fella! Haw haw haw!

"Ah... aaaah..."

"No... Boss..."

Jet Stream's underlings looked like they were at a funeral, the total opposite of the baldies' vibe.

"What're you doing! The war ain't over!"

"Save the boss!"

Mid-level villains, led by the executives, rallied their men to snatch Jet Stream from me. Some even charged straight at us.

So I kindly planted my foot on his neck.

"Come closer, and your boss dies?"

"Kuh!"

"Aaaah!"

"Get your foot off! Move it!"

"We surrender. The war is over. Jet Stream lost to me. Surrender, or everyone connected to him dies."

"Ngh...!"

"Not surrendering? Fine. Total annihilation it is."

Squeeze—!

"W-wait!"

As I pressed down, the furious villains dropped to their knees in unison.

"We... surrender... please show mercy..."

"Ah... of course. I'm generous. I accept your surrender."

The war was over.

"Still blazing hot out."

I'd thought a ton of time had passed, but the sun hadn't set yet.

*****

Holding the enemy leader hostage made cleanup a breeze. Jet Stream's executives handled rallying their own men for the aftermath.

"Party time, you bald bastards! Do whatever the hell you want today! Eat! Drink! All night long!"

Uwaaaaaah—!!!!

Steel! Armor! Steel! Armor!

The baldies whooped in ecstasy and followed the executives back to my turf. They'd get shitfaced like I said.

"Steel Armor."

"Hm? Oh! You made it? Good work."

"....."

Don Quixote and the other villains approached. They eyed the still-unconscious Jet Stream behind me with complicated looks.

"You'll honor the deal, right?"

"Yeah? Uh... sure. But hey, mind if I tweak the terms a bit?"

"What? You dare break the contract now?!"

Don Quixote spat fury, the other three villains right behind him. These punks! Interrupting an adult?! You disrespectful shits!

"Listen, you thick-skulled fucks. I'm not saying I'll break it—just wanna revise it."

"... How?"

"I'll hand over the two districts I was supposed to take to you, Don Quixote. In exchange, give me districts 81 and 82."

"....."

Don Quixote's face hardened. Those were his districts.

"Hmm. If it's just that much..."

"Not a bad deal."

His allies flipped attitudes once they realized I only wanted Don Quixote's turf. And it wasn't like I was taking without giving—I was trading two of mine. Basically a 2:2 swap.

"Why those?"

"Just hate having another villain sandwiched between my districts. Don't like it? Reject it, no skin off my back... but you can handle the fallout, right?"

"....."

Don Quixote glared daggers. I'd straight-up said I'd take them by force if he refused—enough to piss anyone off.

"... Fine. Deal."

In the end, Don Quixote accepted. He lost nothing, so why not?