Villain: Your Heroines Were Delicious

Chapter 124: Chapter 45

Ichibei stood over Seijirou who was lying flat on the sand, the dust of their final sparring session settling around them like a shroud.

The old man’s face was unreadable, his gaze observed the young boy whose talent was so monstrous Ichibei actually almost lost an interest on training disciples.

He felt like as a teacher, there is no greater form of achievement than to be able to teach such a talented man as Kageyama Seijirou.

“Stand up,” Ichibei rumbled. “There is no need for further sessions. I have taught you everything you needed to know. Your Origin needs to be explored by you personally, I cannot help with that.”

Seijirou pushed himself up, his white Gi stained with the mountain earth as he offered a deep, respectful bow. “Thank you for everything, Grandmaster. I wouldn’t have made it this far without your guidance.”

Ichibei hummed, looking toward the horizon where the city lay hidden by distance. “You have three days before your promise to that boy. Do not spend them here. Go back. Let your body and spirit acclimatize to the world below. Go to school, if you want to, there should be some people who already missed you.”

Seijirou nodded. He badly wanted to see his friends now, even Rei and Touka. He wondered how are they doing now?

Ichibei paused, his voice dropping to a low, vulnerable frequency. “And Seijirou… take care of Retsu. My granddaughter is a masterpiece of logic, but her heart is a vacuum. Do not let her become completely empty.”

Seijirou’s expression hardened into a mask of iron resolve. “I won’t. I swear it.”

Ichibei smiled gently, “Thank you.”

*

*

*

Late that night, the neon lights of the city reflected off the wet pavement of a narrow alleyway.

Three figures stood in the shadows, their presence radiating a new, terrifying pressure.

Renji slammed his fist into his palm, a crackle of sparks dancing between his knuckles. “I’m telling you, the spirit I contracted with is on a whole different level. I could probably flatten Ayano with one hand tied behind my back. I’m basically a god of war now.”

Sakai let out a deep, guttural chuckle that vibrated in his massive chest. “A god of war? You look more like a firecracker, Renji. If anyone is taking Ayano’s head, it’s me. I’m the wall that doesn’t break.”

“The wall? I’ll run circles around your wall so fast you’ll get dizzy and puke!” Renji snapped back, his eyes glowing with a faint, aggressive light.

“Shut up, both of you,” Shou interrupted, his voice cold and sharp as a razor.

Then, without looking back, he began walking toward the end of the alley.

“We have a job to do. Save the dick measuring contest later.”

The two silenced themselves instantly, the instinctive hierarchy of their group reasserting itself.

Yes, Shou was recognised as the second in command in Seijirou’s small group of friends. Even Suzune doesn’t as much authority as Shou whenever Seijirou isn’t arround, and she’s Seijirou’s girl!

They followed Shou toward a sprawling, rusted warehouse that loomed like a rotting carcass on the edge of the industrial district.

“Why are we here, Shou?” Renji asked, his eyes darting to the graffiti-covered walls. “This place smells like cheap cigarettes and desperation.”

“According to my intel,” Shou replied. “This is the ’Pit.’ It’s where most delinquent in Shunji High gathers to play king of the hill. They think they’re tough because they have the numbers.”

“And we’re here because…?” Sakai prompted.

“Because the Boss needs an army,” Shou said, his eyes narrowing. “A King doesn’t walk into a war alone. We’re going to subdue every person in that building and bring them with us to wreck Saint Shinomiya.”

Shou turned towards them, his lazy, half-lidded eyes sending chills down their spine, “Don’t you think that if these people wanted to be dogs hiding here, they should just be a dog under us?”

Sakai grinned, “Damn right. If they wanted to be a dog, then they should just be our dogs.”

He stepped forward, his massive frame dwarfing the entrance as he delivered a kick that sent the heavy steel doors flying off their hinges with a thunderous bang.

The three of them stepped into the warehouse.

The air inside was thick with the haze of cigarette smoke and the smell of stale beer.

Nearly a hundred delinquents were scattered across the floor—some lounging on battered couches, others gambling around crates, and a few tucked into corners with girls.

The room went deathly silent as every eye turned to the three intruders.

Renji stepped forward, cracked his neck, and let a wicked smirk play on his lips. “Listen up, losers! You have two choices. Surrender now and swear loyalty to Kageyama Seijirou, or get a first-class ticket to the emergency room. We’re in a hurry, so decide fast.”

A man sitting on a velvet-covered sofa in the center of the room stood up. He was tall, with scarred knuckles and a face that spoke of his experience in street fights.

He pushed two girls off his lap and stepped over a pile of trash, a heavy brass knuckle glinting on his right hand.

“You three are…. Kageyama’s lapdogs, huh?” the leader spat, his voice echoing in the rafters. “You think because your boss is scary, you can just walk in here and bark? Look at us! This isn’t a damn anime. There are three of you, and a hundred of us. You’re outnumbered and outclassed.”

Behind him, the rest of the gang stood up in a coordinated wave.

They picked up lead pipes, heavy chains, and wooden bats, slowly forming a circle around the three.

“Kill them,” the leader commanded, his face twisting into a sneer. “Show them what happens to people who forget how to count.”

Shou didn’t even settle into a stance. He just looked at the hundred men closing in and adjusted his jacket.

“Numbers,” he whispered. “The favorite skill of the weak.”

The leader’s signal ignited the room. The hundred delinquents surged forward with a roar, a tidal wave of denim, leather, and rusted metal.

Steel pipes whistled through the air, and heavy boots thundered against the concrete floor.

“No powers,” Shou commanded, his voice barely a whisper yet cutting through the din like a blade. “If we can’t break their spirits with our own hands, then we might as well die. We take them down the old-fashioned way.”

Renji’s grin widened, his eyes dancing with a manic light. “Works for me. I’ve been itching for a workout anyway!”

The first wave hit them.

A tall thug swung a metal bat at Renji’s head, and without using a drop of Ki, Renji leaned back, the bat missing his nose by a hair.

He stepped into the man’s guard and delivered a lighting-fast combination—two hooks to the ribs and a sharp uppercut to the jaw.

The thug’s head snapped back, his eyes rolling into his skull before he even hit the ground.

To the left, Sakai was a mountain in motion.

He didn’t bother dodging. He walked forward, taking a lead pipe strike to the shoulder with a grunt and a shrug.

He grabbed the attacker by the throat and the belt, lifting all two hundred pounds of the man over his head and launching him into a group of five others like a bowling ball.

The sound of crashing bodies and breaking wood filled the air.

“Is that all?” Sakai rumbled, his voice like grinding stones.

He caught a chain mid-swing, wrapped it around his forearm, and yanked the wielder forward, meeting him with a devastating headbutt that silenced the man instantly.

In front of them, Shou was like a ghost amidst the chaos.

He didn’t use the supernatural speed of his contract, but his natural reflexes, honed by years of track and street fighting, were more than enough.

A delinquent lunged with a knife; Shou sidestepped, grabbed the man’s wrist, and snapped it with a sickening pop.

In the same motion, he drove a knee into the man’s stomach and spun him around to use as a human shield against a swarm of wooden bats.

The warehouse became a symphony of violence.

Despite the overwhelming numbers, the three of them operated with a terrifying synergy.

They didn’t need words. Sakai acted as the anchor, absorbing the heaviest hits and breaking the enemy lines. Renji was the vanguard, a blur of fists and kicks that left a trail of unconscious bodies. Shou was the finisher, picking off the strongest targets with surgical precision.

The “leader” watched from the center, his confidence crumbling with every passing second.

He had expected to see his men stomp these three into the dirt. Instead, he was watching a hundred “wolves” get systematically dismantled by three “lions.”

“What are you doing?!” the leader screamed, his voice cracking. “There’s only three of them! Get them! Use the pipes! Use everything!”

A group of twenty delinquents, desperate and terrified, tried to dog-pile Sakai.

They swarmed over his back and legs, trying to bring the giant down.

Sakai let out a roar, his muscles bulging under his clothes. With a massive heave of pure, unadulterated physical strength, he stood up, scattering the men like autumn leaves.

Renji vaulted off Sakai’s shoulders, spinning in mid-air and landing a double-kick that sent two thugs crashing into a stack of empty crates.

He landed lightly on his feet, wiping a splash of blood from his cheek.

“Ten minutes,” Renji panted, his chest heaving but his smile never wavering. “We’ve been at this ten minutes and half of you are already nap-taking. Come on! I haven’t even broken a sweat!”

The remaining fifty delinquents began to falter.

They looked at their fallen comrades—men with broken jaws, shattered ribs, and slumped forms—and then they looked at the three standing in the center of the warehouse.

Shou stepped over a pile of discarded bats, his eyes fixed on the leader.

“Your numbers are shrinking,” Shou said, his voice echoing in the sudden, fearful silence. “And we haven’t even started trying.”

The leader backed away, his hand trembling as he clutched his brass knuckles.

He looked around at his “army,” seeing only the whites of their eyes as they contemplated running for the exits.

“Last chance,” Shou declared, stopping ten feet from the leader. “Kneel, or we stop being ’gentle’.”