Villain: Your Heroines Were Delicious

Chapter 149: Chapter 14

At this moment, Seijirou, Suzune, and Sakai moved with synchronized precision, guided by the omnipresent voice of Haruka whispering through the comms.

“Turn left to the corner up ahead,” Haruka commanded, her voice sounding like a tactical computer. “Then, in ten meters to the junction, turn right, you will arrive at the entrance of the auditorium, there the remaining Eight Limb is standing by on guard. Sakai-san, this is your designated zone. Neutralize him.”

“Alright!” Sakai nodded

Then, following her instructions, they swung to the left at the corner, and in ten meters around the final corner, they skidded to a halt.

The grand, mahogany doors of the auditorium stood like the gates to a cathedral, and standing before them was Godai Hayato.

He didn’t look like the arrogant boy Seijirou had crushed a month ago; he looked like a man possessed, his eyes bloodshot and his hands trembling with a volatile, dangerous energy.

Sakai immediately stepped forward, his heavy boots echoing on the floor as he cracked his knuckles, a feral, toothy grin spreading across his face. “Boss, go on. This punk’s been living rent-free in my head for far too long. I’ve got a massive bill for him to pay, and I plan on collecting every cent in bruises.”

Sakai didn’t wait for a reply as he launched himself forward like a cannonball.

Hayato’s eyes widened, and he reached for the door handles to bar the way, but Sakai was faster.

He intercepted Hayato’s reaching arms, gripping his wrists with a strength that made the bones groan, then with a roar, Sakai twisted his hips and threw the “Limb” with a massive overhead toss, sending Hayato hurtling through the air until he slammed into the far wall with a bone-jarring thud.

“Go!” Sakai barked over his shoulder.

Seijirou gave a curt nod and pushed the massive doors open, disappearing into the darkness of the auditorium with Suzune at his side.

Hayato slid down the wall, coughing up a spray of crimson.

He looked up at Sakai, and the clarity in his eyes was replaced by a jagged, desperate hatred. “You… you gutter rat! You think you can just toss me aside without consequence?!”

Hayato surged to his feet, and his spiritual energy erupted.

His skin darkened to the color of dried blood, and a single, jagged black horn tore through his brow, and in his hands, he hold a club.

Behind him, the towering, terrifying phantom of a Red Oni materialized, its iron club scraping against the ceiling.

“Oh, look at that,” Sakai mused, standing his ground. “The first time I saw that ugly face back then, my legs felt like jelly. I couldn’t even breathe. But standing here now? I’m realizing you’re just a small man hiding behind a big shadow.”

“What did you say?!” Hayato roared, the Oni behind him mimicking his fury. “I am one of the Eight Limbs of Saint Shinomiya! I am a creature of power!”

“You were beaten by the Boss when he was half-dead from exhaustion and didn’t even have a Karyoku,” Sakai countered, his voice dripping with mockery. “If he could break you with just his bare hands, what chance do you think you have against someone who actually put in the work?”

“SHUT UP! I’VE GROWN STRONGER! I’VE BLED FOR THIS POWER!”

Sakai took a deep breath, and the air around him began to shimmer. “Well, so have I. And unlike you, I didn’t get my power from a silver platter. I found it in the dirt.”

Sakai’s spirit energy exploded like a bomb, as a massive cloud of steam erupted from his pores, sizzling as it hit the cold air.

The excess weight on his frame seemed to melt away, the fat literally burning off as fuel for the transformation.

In seconds, the “jolly giant” of the Shunji High was gone, and in his place stood a man of pure, rippling muscle, his skin flushed and steaming.

Behind him, the phantom of a gargantuan warrior appeared. He wore ancient, bronze-plated knight armor and sported a thick, golden beard. He carried no weapon; his hands were large enough to wrap around a man’s waist.

“This is my Karyoku,” Sakai said, his voice deep and resonant. “The manifestation of Corineus, the legendary giant-slayer and founder of Cornwall. He didn’t need a sword to kill the monsters of the earth—he used his own two hands to break them. This is the Giant’s Grip.”

Hayato took a step back, the sheer physical pressure of Sakai’s presence making the air feel heavy. “So what?! You’ve had that power for less than a month! You think a few weeks of training can match years of Society Training?!”

“It’s not about the time,” Sakai said, his eyes glowing a steady, molten orange. “It’s about what you’re willing to lose. I burned my own body to reach this state. You? You just borrowed a horn.”

“SHUT UP!”

Hayato moved with a brutal, clumsy speed, his iron club swinging in wide, devastating arcs.

Every swing sent shockwaves through the floor, pulverizing the tiles, but Sakai moved with a deceptive, sliding grace.

And he wasn’t just dodging; he navigated the “cracks” in Hayato’s defense.

Whenever Hayato struck, Sakai would parry with a forearm that felt like a bridge girder.

The steam from Sakai’s body acted like a localized smoke screen, masking his movements.

He closed the distance, his hand shooting out like a piston to grip Hayato’s shoulder.

“First lesson, ’Limb’,” Sakai whispered. “Always keep your head cool, do not let your fear cloud your judgement.”

Sakai’s fingers dug into Hayato’s flesh, the divine strength of Corineus focusing into a singular point of pressure.

“AAAHHHH!” Hayato screamed as his shoulder was crushed, his Karyoku flickering as he seems to be on the verge of losing conscious.

But he gritted his teeth and broke free, kicking Sakai away from him as he took a deep breath.

“Bastard! Bastard! BASTARD!” He roared, charging at Sakai once again.

At that, the hallway became a wrestling ring of titanic proportions.

Hayato fought like a cornered animal, using his horn and his iron club to gouge and bash, but Sakai was relentless.

He was a grappler born of ancient legends, turning every one of Hayato’s strikes into a leverage point for a bone-breaking counter.

“DIE!” Hayatao swang his club downwards, but Sakai moved to the side, dodging the attack.

Then, without hesitation, he kicked the club away, grabbed Hayato on the head and slammed his face to his knee.

“AH!” Blood began to drip from his nose, but Sakai wasn’t done.

He raised Hayato’s head, and punched it repeatedly.

The sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed throughout the hall.

Eventually, Sakai just let go, dropping Hayato to the floor.

He took a deep breath, standing over the unconscious Hayato, the steam rising from his muscular frame in thick, rhythmic plumes.

He let out a long, shuddering breath, his heart drumming a victory march against his ribs.

But the “Giant Slayer” had forgotten one rule of the hunt: never turn your back on the shadows.

And with that, a sudden, sharp whistle of air was the only warning he got.

Before Sakai could even pivot, a heavy, reinforced boot slammed into the center of his spine.

The force was concentrated and explosive, sending Sakai stumbling forward, his boots skidding across the debris-strewn floor.

“Not so fast, you fat bastard!” a voice spat.

Before Sakai could regain his center, the “unconscious” Hayato suddenly surged to life with a desperate, animalistic vitality.

He performed a low, sweeping kick that snared Sakai’s ankles, and as the giant tilted, Hayato transitioned into a lethal scissor-kick around Sakai’s neck, using the momentum to drive Sakai’s face into the concrete.

Sakai hit the ground hard, the impact rattling his teeth.

He rolled away, pushing himself up with a grunt of exertion as he looked up to see Hayato standing, panting and bloodied, beside a new arrival.

It was Ryuhei.

The same thug who had led the “Hunters” during the ambush on Renji a month ago.

He looked different now—stronger, more volatile, with purple tribal markings, resembling jagged veins of obsidian, pulsed across his skin, the sign of a forced or desperate Karyoku awakening.

“You really thought it would be that easy?” Ryuhei sneered, his fingers twitching with a sickly violet energy. “I’ve been waiting for this. Although I couldn’t get my revenge on Kageyama, I can beat you up and show your body to him later.”

Sakai slowly stood up, the steam from his body hissed as it hit his overheated skin.

He didn’t look worried; he looked at his bloodied knuckles and let out a soft, deep chuckle. “Well, look at that. Another trash who got beaten by boss. It has been a month, and it seems like you still couldn’t fully materialized your Karyoku.”

He cracked his neck, the golden aura of Corineus flaring back into a brilliant, steady glow. “Come on then. I’ve still got plenty of steam left in the boiler. I’m going to thoroughly beat the arrogance out of both of you.”

These seemed to anger the two as they launched themselves at him.

“DIE!” the two screamed in unison.

Ryuhei moved with a jagged, unnatural speed, his strikes leaving trails of purple static, while Hayato used the weight of his Oni spirit to deliver crushing, overhead blows.

But Sakai was more than able to keep up with them.

To the observers, it looked like a man dancing in a storm.

He caught Ryuhei’s flying kick with a mid-air parry and, in the same motion, ducked under Hayato’s massive spectral club.

He moved with a terrifying efficiency, his hands—the Giant’s Grip—moving with a grace of a predator.

It seemed as if he was no longer just a brawler, but a force of nature.

Sakai caught Hayato’s wrist mid-swing and used him as a human shield, swinging the “Limb” into Ryuhei’s path.

The collision was a mess of tangled flesh and spirit energy.

And as they tried to untangle, Sakai was already there.

He didn’t use a punch or a kick; he simply reached out.

His massive, calloused hands clamped onto the backs of their heads. One hand for the Hunter, one for the Saint.

“You wanted to be treated like elites?” Sakai whispered, his eyes glowing with a molten, golden intensity. “Unfortunately, you can only face your end like the fodder you are.”

With a sudden, explosive burst of strength, Sakai slammed their heads together.

The sound of the impact was a sickening, wet crack that echoed through the entire hallway.

The purple marks on Ryuhei’s skin flickered and died; the Oni horn on Hayato’s head shattered into dust.

He released them, and they slumped to the floor, eyes rolled back, their spirits completely broken.

The silence that followed was absolute.

Sakai stood there for a heartbeat, his chest heaving, then, the cost of the “Giant Slayer” was called due.

The steam around him vanished, the golden aura of Corineus dissolved into the air, and suddenly, the muscles that had looked like carved granite began to wither.

The metabolic fire he had used to fuel his Karyoku had consumed everything—every calorie, every gram of fat, even the glycogen in his liver.

In a terrifying display of biological exhaustion, Sakai’s body shriveled.

He didn’t just lose weight; he became skeletal.

His skin hung loosely over his bones, and his eyes sunken into his head. He looked like a man who had fasted for a month in the span of a single minute.

“Ah…” Sakai gasped, his voice thin and reedy.

His knees buckled, and he slid down the wall, leaning against the cold stone. He felt lightheaded, the world spinning in a dizzying blur of gray and white.

He fumbled for the hem of his oversized shirt, pulling it tight around his now-frail body.

“I’m so… hungry…” he muttered, his stomach letting out a roar of protest that was louder than the battle had been. “I could eat… a whole cow. No, two cows. And a bucket of rice.”

He smiled weakly, looking at the two unconscious “elites” at his feet.

He had done it. He had cleared the path. Now, all that was left was the sound of the final boss waiting behind the auditorium doors.

“Good luck, Boss,” Sakai whispered, his eyes fluttering shut as he surrendered to the crushing weight of his hunger and exhaustion.