Gettan...

JOHN SMITH

Gettan’s movements had become incomparably faster—like he’d finally found the "sprint" button. One second the snow was just swirling around, and the next, he was right in my face.

"OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!!"

He let out a roar that was probably supposed to be intimidating and swung at me. I flicked my fingertips, sending John Smith's Steel Wire whistling through the cold air.

"—Hoh."

The Long Sword and the Steel Wire clashed. To the casual observer, it looked like I’d been pushed back. A few severed strands of my wire fluttered to the ground.

Gettan didn't give me a second to breathe. He stayed on me like a wild animal, his blade slicing through my remaining wires with annoying efficiency. He swung, I adjusted, and my wires kept dancing—until, finally, I’d run out of "weapon" entirely.

"AAAAAAAAAAHH!!"

Gettan charged in, wearing the kind of crazy-eyed grin you only see on guys who’ve completely lost the plot. I just stood there and let out a long, dramatic sigh.

"In the end, it's just steel, I see..."

I muttered the line listlessly, making sure I looked sufficiently bored while staring down the incoming threat. Note to self: invest in better alloys next time.

And then—we collided.

I didn't need wires. As his massive slash came down, I took a single step forward, pivoting my body just enough to let the blade shave the air beside my cheek. A few strands of my black hair caught the wind.

It was the bare minimum amount of movement required. That step-in was the shortest, fastest path possible. It was the perfect synchronicity of evasion and offense.

In other words—the Ultimate in Martial Arts.

"What!?"

Gettan’s eyes went wide, but he was too late. My elbow was already buried deep in his jaw.

"Gah."

I didn't give him a chance to recover. I launched a merciless follow-up, my fist piercing straight into Gettan's Dantian. As his upper body folded into a 'V' from the force, I hammered a knee strike upward to snap him back straight.

I didn't stop. My fists, elbows, and knees—nothing fancy, just basic strikes—sank into his bloated frame. Every time I hit him, that massive, mutated body of his went flying like it was made of cardboard. Who needs magic tricks when you’ve got a well-trained physique? I was the literal embodiment of the idea that your own body is the ultimate weapon.

Gettan tried to scramble away, desperate to escape the storm. Thanks to those red pills, his body was knitting itself back together the moment I broke it. I could practically see his thought process: Just endure the storm, wait for him to tire out, and get to the safety zone.

Cute. But I wasn't done.

Every step I took cut off his retreat. Every blow I landed sapped the strength from his legs. I’d already calculated the entire exchange; I was reading him like a cheap novella. I just kept hitting him, over and over, completely one-sided.

I stayed glued to him, keeping him right in my preferred range. No matter how he tried to squirm, I didn't let him out of my reach. I kept striking with mechanical indifference, like I was just checking off a to-do list.

"Gah... Agah... Guh, Guoo... Gehoh."

I crushed his bones, snapped his fangs, and pulverized his organs. He’d heal, and then I’d do it again. It was basically a loop of endless torture. Splatters of red blood began to stain the white carpet of the snow.

Slowly, I started putting more weight into my punches. I cranked up the speed, too. I was just testing the limits of his durability, really.

"Speak. There is something you should say, isn't there...?"

"Gah... Gufuh."

I kept the conversation going while using his face as a speed bag. Finally, he hit his limit. The recovery factor just... stopped.

Seeing that the show was over, I stepped back half a pace and swung my right leg with everything I had. My foot buried itself into the side of his head, sending him tumbling across the snow like a ragdoll.

"I hate kicks. They throw off the balance."

I said it with my best "disappointed master" tone. I walked over slowly and planted my boot on him as he tried to crawl back up. He glared up at me, gasping for air.

"Gah..."

I drove my fist into his face.

"—Speak."

I hit him again.

"—The things you should say."

"...You are strong," he finally wheezed.

Gettan was looking at me with a real mess of expressions—anger, hate, envy, and a whole lot of regret.

"If I had power like yours, would things have been different...? I was weak..."

He was getting all philosophical on me. His voice was heavy with the kind of drama I usually have to pay for.

"This mess is what happens when you spend your life running from your own weakness... What was I even doing? The thing I wanted to protect wasn't this pathetic pride, and yet... I couldn't admit how weak I was..."

Then, the guy actually laughed.

"You are strong... You fight for the one you love, not yourself... If it's you... I can entrust her to you..."

His voice was fading fast. With a trembling finger, he pointed over toward Yukime.

"Yuki... Please..."

"...Fine."

I grabbed his shaking hand, giving him the closure he wanted.

"Your feelings have certainly been entrusted to me."

By which I mean, I’m definitely taking the money.

"Tha... nks..."

And with that, Gettan checked out for good.

"Gettan..."

Yukime stumbled over and buried her face in my chest, her tears soaking into my suit.

"I... I..."

"It’s over now," I said, going full 'mysterious protagonist' mode. "You might have hated each other, but in the end, you reached an understanding..."

I infused my hand with Magic Power and gently stroked her back to calm her down.

"Your wounds are healed. Let us move forward."

Then, I leaned in and whispered the most important part.

"You said you buried the loot under the snow around here, right...?"