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underground fights.

This is the story of Kei Kazama, the fighter who was sheltered in martial arts by his intention. As someone naive who thought that such a world only required a little effort, his dreams were mere fictions, fancies that he considered possible. Transmigrated to the world of Kenichi Shirahama, he finds before his eyes a man with black eyes who claims to be a Kure, half of his problems and the beginning of the path of martial fighting, Yomi, Yami, kengan, he will face everyone, in a row. struggle and power, two sentences written in blood, as Kei, is approached by something I certainly did not expect.

rollo1019to · Anime und Comics
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71 Chs

fight box.

-The meetings of Ragnarök were, to say the least, childish. The behavior resembled that of gang members, a strategy that Kei found laughable. Everyone tried to appear tough, which was just ridiculous. But the most agreeable people were Thor and Sigfried.

-I have to go take care of some important matters, –said Kei.

-Wait, we still need some way to contact you, –said Loki. His square glasses covering his face were amusing, but Kei said nothing, just nodded, and handed over his cell phone, courtesy of Hiyo Kure, who wanted to keep him informed.

Kei reviewed his new contacts, from the First Fist to the Fourth Fist, Loki. They were the ones responsible for uniting and strengthening the Ragnarök alliance.

-Now that the new fist, Fenir, has been proclaimed as the eighth fighter of the Ragnarök organization, let's conclude this meeting. Loki will contact you if there's any important matter to be addressed by the fists. Our organization is new and growing. We will call occasionally to dominate certain territories, –said Odin.

Kizara was sitting on a purple couch, giving Kei a pitiful look, while Freya could only glare with rage at the new Eighth Fist, who had won the fight against her a moment ago, breaking her chance to prove herself.

-Of course. Have a good day. If you need me, make it against a great fighter. I like challenges. Fighting those ordinary people is just a waste. I want someone who makes me sweat, –said Kei, bidding everyone farewell.

As he left, he decided to stay calm. He had to see James Shiba, who would watch his training until nightfall, and tomorrow morning, he would take notes with Hiyo Kure. Just as he thought, James was at home, performing his constant exercises on the metal post. He struck it hard, thanks to his bones being almost as tough as steel. The training was bearable. Again and again, he punched the steel beam in front of him. Then came the elbows, head, legs, and knees.

Like a shadow fight, he repeatedly struck, one, two, three, a quick jab, combinations of jabs, followed by liver shots, chin strikes, all from different angles against the steel wrapped with thick ropes. He stopped and began executing each strike once, a thousand times. He preferred combinations, so he repeated a brief combination of ten strikes a thousand times. With sweat on his face and exhaustion on his shoulders, he decided to go home, but not before knocking on James Shiba's door.

-Hey old man, I know you're here. I dropped off some good stuff. Just think about my request to be your disciple. I have everything you need. My skills and talent will take me to the top of boxing, –said Kei, sliding a letter under the door with a note and 5,000 yen, which looked like an application to Shiba's gym.

The man with the eye patch and blond hair just looked at the letter, crumpled it, and pocketed the 5,000 yen. Once he felt no more presence, he went to play pachinko.

Nodding off a deep fear from everything that had happened, it was almost an unrelenting situation, a terror. He remembered all the fights to find the ultimate boxing, from his travels to the United States, England, Somalia, and Thailand, ending in an underground fight, a fight lost due to his inability to be the strongest, and a defeat to his martial art, boxing.

***

-One of the most memorable aspects is his closeness with the Kure gang. The second strongest in the gang is Bokuda, who stands out for his impressive physique and grappling techniques; it's deadly to learn to fight against him. The third is Gutaro, a master with knives, whose skills are exceptional in every sense. His cutting abilities made his style somewhat inflexible for a martial artist, but he surpassed Hiroshi in terms of danger.

-You're here early, kid, –Gutaro said with a smile.

-I'm looking for Hiyo. We have a little secret to discuss, and Hiyo might like the information, –Kei replied.

-In the warehouse, dealing with a snitch. He'll be here soon. Have a seat, kid, –Gutaro said, spinning a military combat knife in his hands, specialized for short-range attacks used by special forces. Gutaro had long hair, Korean features, eyes shaped like crescent moons, and a bowl cut that made him look ridiculous but was highly dangerous among the disciple-rank fighters.

-Sounds good, –Kei commented. His vibrant red hair stood in a friendly manner, but inside he was completely intimidated. Gutaro was a dangerous and unhinged killer. Behind his Boy Scout appearance was one of the most dangerous and crazy members of the gang. Kei adjusted his body and lay down on the couch. It was best to act naturally; these battle addicts needed to be guided with brief reverence to auspicious knowledge from the crazies.

-Hey, Gutaro, stop looking at me with those killer eyes. You're making me uneasy. Stop projecting your murderous intent, –Kei said, still lying on the couch. Gutaro's eyes had a killer's glare, glowing red in a way only a sociopath's would.

-Hahaha, just a little joke, –Gutaro commented disdainfully.

-Damn, Gutaro, you're sicker than my older brother, and that's saying something. My brother is the most cynical person I know, –Kei remarked.

They stayed there until Hiyo Kure appeared, looking crazed. Kei didn't want to be intimidated even if Gutaro was the third strongest. The anger of being threatened was something that couldn't be postponed with these types of people. Hiyo Kure saw everything but cared little; one thing was certain: only the Kure clan was respected, and everyone else was disposable.

***

In an abandoned warehouse, a pink-haired girl was nursing her wounds. Though she didn't express it with words, a furious anger erupted within her as she tried to hold back tears of shame and humiliation from her encounter with Kei, no... Fenrir the Wolf, a man who fought mercilessly. Interestingly, it was her shins that hurt the most, more than her ribs; the stinging in her legs made walking difficult. She felt her bones were like jelly, and her flesh was torn.

-Kizara, –Freya said from the door.

Kizara turned, her body radiating intense hatred, a hatred that could only be quenched by putting Kei Kazama in his place. Two strong punches, her removing her fist and being a heroine, the same position.

-I don't want to talk, Freya. I have to create my gang and find my path... if I don't, I might never be able to defeat you. I'll start with Ikki Takeda, Ukita, Koga, and Shinnosuke Tsuji, –Kizara said, to defeat Fenir and gain enough strength to be considered within the group.

Freya twirled her staff, not expecting otherwise. Kizara's journey would be long and painful.

Following their goals is something Freya, as a leader, wanted the Valkyries to pursue.

-You will lose to Kei Kazama, –Kizara said.

Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!

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