"Pride's not full yet... but for a show, this'll do."
Sett's left hand gripped the big man's hair, holding him upright. His right hand began to move again.
As his fist rose, Razor's body convulsed. Blood that had just begun to clot sprayed from his nose like a burst faucet. His face was already unrecognizable—a pulp of flesh and bone. When Sett's fist connected with his already-shattered nose bridge, Razor went limp. The moment Sett released his grip, he crumpled to the sand in a heap.
This wasn't an ordinary attack. This was a skill granted by the system itself.
Haymaker.
The name said it all. Absorb damage, build up Grit, then unleash it all at once. The skill formed a shield around his body before detonating in a devastating area-of-effect blast that dealt true damage.
Perfect for putting on a show.
Sett didn't fully understand the mechanics, but he understood the principle: use the flashy move first. In a world without magic, even if someone saw this trick a thousand times, they'd never find a weakness.
From the moment the big man had stepped into the ring, Sett had read the situation perfectly. This was an exhibition match. No one acted the way this guy did unless they were putting on a performance. They didn't treat opponents like people—they treated them like props.
So Sett decided to give them a show. A demonstration of overwhelming power.
If that hadn't been the goal, an opponent like this would have been settled with one punch. He wouldn't even have gotten back up.
CRACK—THOOM!
The sound was unlike anything the audience had ever heard. For a moment, Razor just hung there, suspended by Sett's grip. Then his knees buckled. His entire body collapsed face-first onto the sand, his rear end absurdly elevated in a pose that would have been comical if the circumstances weren't so brutal.
But when he fell, everyone saw it clearly.
Behind where Razor had been standing, a deep trench had been carved into the sand—as if explosives had been buried there moments before. The shockwave had torn through the ground itself.
Razor lay motionless. Unconscious.
And Sett's system chimed twice.
[EXP +15]
[Gold +1]
Sett looked down at the crumpled form. Fifteen experience. By this dogshit system's logic, a street punk with a knife was worth one experience point. Which meant this guy was worth fifteen of those thugs.
Not bad, actually.
Pity he didn't have the brains God gave a wild animal. Even beasts knew when to run from danger.
The hit had completely shattered Razor's reputation. The mindless fans who had insisted on his invincibility were now chanting a new name.
"Sett! Sett! Sett!"
The arena erupted.
---
Up in the VIP section, Tokugawa Mitsunari watched with barely concealed fascination. He had controlled the largest underground fighting arena in Japan for decades. He had seen countless battles—legends, monsters, freaks of nature.
But Sett's ability genuinely surprised him.
The greatest karate masters, the kings of Chinese martial arts, the toughest street fighters—everyone he had ever seen relied on their own bodies and skills honed over a lifetime. But this boy... his power defied explanation. It wasn't technique. It wasn't physical conditioning. It was something else entirely.
And that thin but explosive frame... Those red hair...
Tokugawa's eyes narrowed. Jack Hanma. Also a child of Yujiro Hanma. Known as a warrior without tomorrow. But when Jack had been thin like this, his power couldn't compare to this newcomer named Sett.
Could this boy... also be a child of Yujiro?
Tokugawa turned to the man beside him, his smile pleasant, his eyes anything but. "Which company did you say you were from?"
The man in charge swallowed hard. He didn't want to answer. His boss had been explicit—reveal nothing. But the old man beside him, barely a meter away, radiated an invisible pressure that made lying feel like suicide.
"We're... XH Pharmaceuticals... The fighter signed to our Boxing Aspirations program is Razor Field... the one down there..."
His words tumbled out between swallows, his throat dry. The pressure from Tokugawa was suffocating.
"XH Pharmaceuticals?" Tokugawa waved a hand dismissively. "Never heard of it. But that's fine. I'll be acquiring your assets."
He took a delicate sip of tea from the cup on the table.
"Now then. Hurry up and bring that fighter up here—the one who just demolished Razor Field. I want to meet him personally."
"Y-yes! Right away!"
The man from XH Pharmaceuticals couldn't form another word. In a few sentences, the old man had just decided the fate of his entire company. In the face of someone like Tokugawa—the man they called the Emperor of Japan, someone even the Boxing Association and the government couldn't touch—what choice did he have?
If he failed to meet the old man's demands... well, there was no guarantee he'd see tomorrow's sun.