Chapter 31: Acting Cool
With Hikigaya's current leg strength, if he went all out, he might even rival the Shinkansen (japamese train)...
So he easily left the disciples of Yomi far behind, and by the time they caught up to him, he had already been sitting on a large rock waiting for fifteen minutes.
"So slow. But now I can speak," Hikigaya said casually, still seated, completely unaware of how ridiculously strong he had become as a God-Slayer.
"..."
The group of Yomi disciples looked at each other in silence.
They felt humiliated — completely crushed in terms of speed.
But their silence made Hikigaya suddenly feel like he was being bullied, so he issued a completely unthreatening threat: "If you don't talk, I'll beat you all up and leave."
That line was enough to stir hostility, and the disciples' faces darkened. The tall, rich, and handsome one spoke up first.
Perhaps because they were from the same school, it felt less awkward for him.
"I'm only here to witness." This guy, unsurprisingly the disciple of the Demon God Fist, had zero integrity. His first words immediately sold out his teammates. Hikigaya figured if he left now, there would probably be a "friendly sparring" session among the disciples. "Master went to Yomi, and then these people came. The other lords of the Shadow Nine Fists want to know whether you truly killed a god."
"Oh, so I can take it you all know about them too?" Hikigaya's eyes lit up. "Those disobedient gods."
He had thought only warriors of the Shadow Nine Fists' level would know, but it seemed he had underestimated it.
That made sense. In Yomi, master-disciple relationships were incredibly authentic and traditional. This ancient spirit of inheritance meant that the bond between master and disciple was stronger than blood.
"Indeed. Though I've never seen it myself, my master has mentioned countless times that gods exist in this world, and that fighting gods is both the greatest glory and despair for a warrior," said Boris Ivanov. "So Master needs confirmation. If it's true, then we will follow your command."
Despair, huh… It seemed the arrogance of the Demon God Fist wasn't normal even among martial artists of this level.
Hikigaya wasn't sure if he should be grateful or not — if the Demon God Fist wasn't so eccentric, he wouldn't have randomly taken him in and trained him.
Then he would've continued living a peaceful, safe, ordinary life. Naturally, he wouldn't have had the chance or luck to kill a god and become a God-Slayer, the strongest being on Earth, neither man nor god.
Was that gain or loss? Hard to say.
"So how do you plan to confirm it? Fight me? I really don't think that's meaningful."
"No, I would like to spar with you — it's my master's order," the small Russian bear said straightforwardly, matching his comic-book style personality.
"I don't mind." Hikigaya nodded. "But the person who's been trailing behind you this whole time — is he one of your masters?"
"Behind us?"
All the disciples froze.
"Guess not. No wonder I sensed a stench. After all, the Shadow Nine Fists are top warriors — they certainly wouldn't carry a stink."
Hikigaya jumped down from the rock.
"Come out. Your scent disgusts me."
"Hehe, worthy of being a disciple of the Shadow Nine Fists. You sure know how to talk."
From the woods, a gloomy aura spread. A figure with immense pressure appeared.
Of course, this so-called immense pressure was only apparent from the others' reactions — Hikigaya himself felt nothing.
Having witnessed divine power and become a God-Slayer, no human aura could faze him anymore.
The newcomer carried a large blade, wore leather combat gear, had tightly braided hair like ropes, dark skin, thick lips — clearly of African descent.
"This brat isn't worth watching. I came here for nothing. Might as well slice you up. Killing gods? Can't believe these empty-handed group guys love to brag so much."
The k man with the blade muttered arrogantly.
"I agree, not worth watching. No idea what this 'empty-handed group' is, but… I'll just ask someone later."
Hikigaya nodded with a grin.
Looks like the Demon God Fist was right — there would be people doubting him, even trying to kill him.
And such people would definitely come from Yomi.
Decision made — kill him.
There was no need for discussion. He had already slain a god. Even during the so-called graduation ceremony when leaving the base, his opponent had died.
At this point, there was no need to waver. Maturity meant understanding your place in your environment — both in work and in life.
Whether as a God-Slayer or a martial artist, since the opponent had made his hostility clear, he must respond accordingly.
That was now his attitude toward life — and his survival method.
So Hikigaya struck.
It wasn't even a sneak attack — the disparity in level was just too large. Though the opponent had plenty of energy, compared to the Demon God Fist, he was far inferior — probably just an average fighter of that level.
In the hands of a God-Slayer, the speed of Pencak Silat was truly terrifying.
The Black blade-wielder didn't even have a chance to say his name before his head was twisted off, his wide chest caved in by a punch, and finally Hikigaya kicked the lifeless body into the air.
From start to finish — the entire sequence of attack and death — happened in a flash. The severed head still bore the expression from moments earlier.
He died without even realizing it.
Hikigaya casually tossed away the severed head before the body even hit the ground.
Silence.
Hikigaya didn't know the guy, but the others did.
He was a master-level fighter from the Weapons Division — the Brutal Blade.
To disciples like them, he was an untouchable mountain.
And he got killed instantly — so fast it was horrifying.
Even their masters probably couldn't have done it so cleanly.
What the hell is there left to confirm?
"Got anything to wipe with?" Hikigaya reached out to the small Russian bear.
He remembered the Annihilation Fist Master had OCD, and his disciple always carried fresh gloves and such.
"..."
Boris Ivanov silently tossed over a towel.
As expected, he carried one.
"Anyone know who that guy was?"
Hikigaya asked while wiping his hands.
"He was a master from the Weapons Division — the Brutal Blade."
The speaker was a guy with strange facial tattoos.
"Oh? And who are you? You all know me, but I don't know you. That's not good. We should at least exchange names."
"Tirawit Kōkin. Ancient Muay Thai."
"Sounds dependable. By the way, do we still need to spar?"
"No need. There's no point anymore."
Tirawit Kōkin's stoic face twitched slightly.
"So you'll follow my orders from now on?"
"Of course. Now that it's confirmed you're a God-Slayer, we, the martial artists of Yomi Empty-Hand Group, will obey your will."
Oh yeah, money-printing machine acquired...
The power of a cheat finally shows itself. Thank you, mom and dad, for making me so OP.
Now it's time for a glorious act of coolness.
"Well then, that guy just now — if he has any subordinates or disciples still in Chiba, kill them all. Since he clearly showed hostility, as a martial artist, I'll respond accordingly."
Having finished this cool act, Hikigaya felt absolutely refreshed all over.
"Understood. We'll go kill them right away!"