The First Men Chronicles

Chapter 25:The Weight of Power

The air inside the stadium was thick—not just from the sheer noise of the audience, but from the tension that gripped every spectator, every fighter, and every high-ranking official watching from the VIP section.

President Bartoni and his assistant, Akebi, arrived at the stadium, their entrance marked by a sudden hush that swept through the highest seats. Armed security moved in precise formations, escorting the Hunter Association's leader toward his designated seat in the VIP lounge. As he settled in, a chorus of greetings from the elite Ss-ranked hunters filled the air.

Thomas leaned forward, arms crossed, an amused smirk on his face. "Two fighters down in less than a minute. That just leaves two standing."

Daisuke corrected him. "One of them's still breathing, Thomas. Lee is injured, but he's not out."

Bartoni's fingers tapped against the armrest of his seat. "Who is Sakamoto?" His voice was casual, but there was an undercurrent of curiosity behind it.

Akebi hesitated. Then, lowering her head, she answered, "The masked one, sir."

Bartoni's gaze shifted downward to the battlefield, eyes narrowing. "He looks like a Shen Transformation type."

Mujin chuckled. "Oh, that's what you'd think, but…" He leaned forward, his tone carrying a note of intrigue. "He's something else completely." Then, with a teasing grin, he added, "Or did you come here just to see him?"

Bartoni waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, no. Not at all." He laughed, but there was something unreadable in his expression as he continued watching.

Down in the ring, the commentators voiced concerns over Silva and Lee's conditions, calling for medical staff to check their vitals.

Sakamoto turned his gaze to Lee, who was barely managing to stay on his feet. His breathing was uneven, his body swaying from the strain.

"You still good?" Sakamoto asked, his tone flat.

Lee exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Not even close."

Sakamoto let out a slow breath, as if processing the information. His body tilted slightly—a motion so unbalanced it looked like he was about to collapse.

Then—he disappeared.

FWOOOSH!

A series of afterimages fanned out from where he once stood, each one flickering in and out of existence as his blazing speed carried him toward Wang.

The attack was instantaneous.

Sakamoto's axe swung horizontally, a razor-sharp blur of death, aiming straight for Wang's exposed neck.

SCHLNK!

The blade connected.

But Wang didn't fall.

Instead, his hand lashed out, fingers curling toward Sakamoto's throat in an attempt to grab him.

Sakamoto's body twisted at the last second, his reflexes sharp, leaping backward before Wang's grip could close around his windpipe.

A sizzling hiss filled the air.

The wound on Wang's neck bubbled, then closed.

Blood boiled and stitched the flesh back together.

Then, the change began.

SQUELCH. SQUELCH.

His body swelled grotesquely, muscle fibers expanding as thick, vein-like roots sprouted across his reddened skin.

Frozen, watching from the VIP section, recognized what was happening immediately.

"He's using his Blood Manipulation to alter his body size," he explained. "The more blood he burns, the bigger and stronger he becomes. But there's a risk—if he overuses it, he'll need to consume more blood to maintain the form."

By the time Wang's mutation completed, he towered over Sakamoto—his arms now as thick as tree trunks, his very presence casting a monstrous shadow over the battlefield.

But Sakamoto wasn't impressed.

He let out a slow exhale, voice carrying an eerie detachment.

"This is usually the part where I start caring about what you're doing to yourself …" he muttered. "But I still don't."

Wang grinned through his grotesque transformation and slammed his foot down—

BOOM!

The shockwave shattered the ground, cracks spreading out like spiderwebs.

But by the time the dust settled—Sakamoto was gone.

His body tilted again, his weight shifting unnaturally.

Then—

FWOOOSH!

He blurred out of existence again.

Above.

His silhouette cut through the stadium lights, axe rotating midair as he prepared to bring it down upon Wang's mutated form.

Wang's eyes flickered upward.

Then, suddenly—his tongue lashed out.

CRACK!

A grotesque, elongated appendage shot from his mouth, smacking into Sakamoto mid-flight.

BOOM!

Sakamoto's body was blasted away, smashing into a reinforced iron stand on the far side of the battlefield. The sheer impact dented the metal.

Wang let out a slow chuckle.

"That's too bad," he muttered, stepping forward.

The crowd erupted, their voices a mix of awe and concern.

"What the hell was that?!"

"He sent him flying in one hit!"

"Is that even legal?!"

The commentators struggled to process what they had just witnessed.

"Wang has completely changed his fighting style! This—this isn't the same Wang from before!"

Wang kept walking forward, the ground trembling beneath each of his massive steps. As he approached, he crouched down slightly, peering at Sakamoto's motionless form.

A single drop of blood trailed down from Sakamoto's lips.

Wang frowned. "Hope you're not done already," he muttered.

Then—he summoned a blade.

The blood in his palm solidified, hardening into the shape of a deadly dagger. He spun it between his fingers, the blade gleaming under the stadium lights.

Inside Sakamoto's mind…

A voice screamed.

"MOTHERFUCKER!!"

Sakamoto's eyes snapped open,A shudder ran through the stadium, For a brief moment, the very air itself seemed to bend inward, compressing under an unseen force,The pressure was suffocating.

Then—BOOM.

A pulse of raw Shen energy erupted from Sakamoto's eyes, sending shockwaves rippling through the arena, but the force was all focused on Wang, his monstrous size stumbled back, his monstrous form buckling under the sheer force.

Then—his left arm detached.

It ripped from his body effortlessly, the force flinging it across the battlefield.

His right arm followed.

A cold silence swallowed the stadium.

Sakamoto slowly rose to his feet, his steps measured.

With each step forward, Wang was pushed back further and further, an invisible force pressing against his very being,The pressure intensified.

Then—

BOOM.

Wang's body was sent flying, crashing into the stands.

The fight was over.

The crowd erupted in chaos.

"What the hell just happened?!"

"Did—did Sakamoto just obliterate him without touching him?!"

The commentators were speechless.

Back in the VIP section, Bartoni's expression darkened.

"That wasn't just Shen…" he muttered under his breath. His eyes flickered with suspicion. "Did he just tap into Jushin's power?"

The announcer cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

"Regardless… injuries are irrelevant in this tournament. The winners are Sakamoto and Lee!"

As the remaining victors gathered in the ring, Vincent glanced at the blood-soaked ground where Wang had once stood.

His lips curled into a grin.

"You," he said to Sakamoto, "are going to be a problem ."