I was Thrown into an Unfamiliar Manga

Ivan Vladimirovich Romanov.

Age: 48.
Known by nicknames like Destruction God, Thunder Emperor, and Tsar, he is the strongest martial artist in the world.
He was born in 1969 in Vladivostok. His grandfather was an illegitimate son of Nicholas II, the last emperor of the fallen Russian Empire.

Although their bloodline was never officially acknowledged, the imperial blood allowed his family to live in luxury up to his father’s generation. However, after Ivan’s father overreached in expanding his business and ended up buried in debt, the whole family was thrown onto the streets.
Ivan, who had a rough childhood, joined the Red Mafia—based in the ice-free port of Vladivostok—at the age of seventeen. He quickly rose to the top of the organization and began operating an arms smuggling business.
Until the collapse of the Soviet Union on December 26, 1991, Ivan sold weapons and tanks leaked from military units to Southeast Asia, Africa, and various Third World countries engaged in civil wars. With exceptional business acumen, he amassed a vast fortune and, in just five years, became one of the wealthiest figures in the underworld.

After the fall of the Soviet Union and the establishment of the Russian Federation, Ivan used the immense profits from his weapons dealings to found Easter Egg Company.
Through collusion with the Russian government, he amassed a level of wealth incomparable to the past and turned Easter Egg Co. into one of the most powerful conglomerates in the world.
Then, in July 1999, while the world was abuzz with speculation over Nostradamus’ prophecy, Ivan, now thirty years old, hosted the inaugural God of Fist tournament under his name as group chairman.

The objective of the tournament was simple:
To determine the world’s strongest martial artist.
People from 138 countries were captivated by the month-long battle-royale-style tournament. Ivan, the winner of the first-ever God of Fist, became a legend in the underworld, earning the nickname Angolmois, the Destruction God.

***
“Interesting.”
Ivan liked the Eastern boy standing before him.

It reminded him of his younger self.
At first, it had all started from a misunderstanding.
When he heard that Boris—one of his personally selected guards—had been defeated, he thought the Black Yasha, who had vanished ten years ago, had finally returned.

Since its inaugural run in 1999, the God of Fist tournament had gained considerable notoriety.
Ivan had won the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd tournaments. But in the 4th, the Black Yasha, whom he always faced in the finals, finally defeated him after countless tries.
It was the first loss of Ivan’s life—and naturally, it shook him.
He became obsessed, waiting eagerly for the next tournament.

But in the 5th GOF held in 2011, his rival Black Yasha did not participate.
Disheartened and completely unmotivated, Ivan never entered another tournament again.
For Ivan, Fuma Kotaro—the man known as Black Yasha—was the one person he most wanted to meet.

But when he came here, the Black Yasha wasn’t around. Only an unfamiliar Eastern boy.
Feeling deflated, Ivan had intended to return to the hotel with his runaway daughter.
But then, he noticed something odd.

There was no way someone who lived in Japan’s underworld wouldn’t recognize the name Fuma Kotaro.
So he tested him.
To see whether this Eastern boy really had no ties to the underworld.

And he was shocked.
This was truly a blank slate—a boy who had never trained in any martial art—yet he had taken down Boris, one of Ivan’s elite guards.
A talent so innate, it might appear once in a hundred years.

Though their meeting had been pure coincidence, Ivan felt greed stir within him.
To discover a talent like this and do nothing would be a loss to humanity—and the fact that he discovered him felt like fate.
“If trained well, in ten years—no, even five—he could reach a level where he could spar with me.”

Unlike himself, who had no teacher and had to learn everything alone, Ivan could raise this boy properly as a mentor.
If so, then a new rival—not Fuma Kotaro, but someone new—would appear in this world.
For Ivan, who had grown bored with everything, that was an electrifying thought.

But the Eastern boy rejected his unprecedented offer.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to decline.”
Hearing that, Ivan realized:

He’d been too naïve.
In his 48 years of life, there had been very few people who ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) ever refused him. He must’ve started taking it for granted.
“I see. Then die.”

If that’s how it would be—he’d force him to accept the offer.
He resolved to do so.
***

I barely blocked the suddenly incoming knifehand strike with my right forearm.
Zzzzt! Zzzzt!
Even though I blocked it, the searing pain shot up through my bones.

His eyes, more vicious than before, told me—this was real.
He actually meant to kill someone.
…An opening!

Up until now, I’d been holding back because he was Sasha’s father, maintaining a purely defensive stance—but now, for self-preservation, I struck for the first time.
My fast punch landed squarely on his exposed jaw.
BANG!!

His neck snapped back from the impact.
But as if nothing had happened, Sasha’s father snapped his neck back into place and muttered with a cold look:
“Too shallow.”

Then, using the exact same motion I had just used, he slammed a punch into my jaw.
“Kh!”
A blood vessel burst inside my mouth, and I tasted iron.

On top of that, my brain shook from the blow, throwing off my balance.
Then, raising one leg slightly and bringing both fists up in front of his face, Sasha’s father said:
“Let me give you some advice, boy.”

And the moment that slightly lifted foot slammed the ground—
“When you hit someone—whether they’re strong or weak—you do it with the resolve to kill them.”
THOOM!!!!

The ground caved in with a deafening boom.
At the same time, an overwhelming barrage began.
Top, bottom, left, right. Upper-right, lower-right, upper-left, lower-left.

A total of eight directions.
A hailstorm of freezing punches rained down like the Siberian cold.
Compared to the earlier fight, this was a whole different beast. The weight and speed behind his fists were on another level.

Even worse, his left and right fists moved so differently, it was like being attacked by two people at once.
“Kh!”
I couldn’t keep up with just reflexes anymore!

I barely blocked the first 18 blows, but my defense quickly fell apart, and I could only avoid hits to my vitals and pockets.
A total of 32 hits.
Just as he advised, every punch came with lethal intent—my clothes were already in shreds.

“Huff, huff, huff, huff…”
The punches had avoided my vitals, but honestly, I was barely able to breathe.
My whole body was screaming.

“Двойной орёл императора.”
He stood right before me, muttering something in Russian as he looked down.
“In Japanese, it means The Emperor’s Double-Headed Eagle. It’s one of the secret techniques passed down through the Romanov dynasty.”

So it’s royal martial arts?
Even in a romance-comedy world, this part felt totally battle-manga.
“Boy. If you don’t want to die, serve under me. I’ll teach you not just this technique, but everything I know. You’re a born warrior. I’ll give you the power to rule over all the weak.”

“Hah, you beat the hell out of me just to say that?”
I let out a hollow laugh, dumbfounded.
A textbook eighth-grade syndrome was standing right in front of me.

“To give me the power to rule over the weak”?
How could anyone say something that embarrassing with a straight face in this day and age?
Though it hurt even to lift my arms, I somehow reached for my hoodie zipper with trembling hands.

The inside pocket of my hoodie was bulging.
The 2 million yen Sasha gave me earlier.
Honestly, it was stupid to feel relieved about the money still being intact after getting my ass beat, but to me, that money—for my home gym—was more precious than life.

Flap!
I flung the torn hoodie toward safety, then, down to just a T-shirt, I raised both fists.
“Like I said, I’m not accepting your offer.”

I had my parents.
I had Director Nakayama.
I had the Chairman.

I had the Vice President.
I had Minami.
I had Rika.

I had Karen.
Since taking over Kim Yu-seong’s body, I’d built precious bonds over the past three years.
I had no intention of throwing all that away to serve some man standing in front of me.

That’s why—with everything I had—I resolved to fight seriously in this moment.
“So just give it up, you old geezer.”
At my words, Sasha’s father twisted his lips into a demon-like grin.

“Splendid. You’ve got the eyes of someone with unshakable conviction.”
Then, clenching his right fist tightly, he declared:
“And I will crush that conviction.”

BOOM!!
At that moment, our fists struck each other’s faces at the exact same time.