Chapter 92 Battle Royal
Chapter 92 Battle Royal
“Now—on the count of three, the match will begin!” Ligero’s voice boomed through the plaza, thick with laughter and excitement.
All the participants were quickly moving into position across the wide stone platform. Since it was a battle royale, many had already begun forming small factions—everyone knew that going solo in this kind of fight was risky.
At the center of the arena, Goka stood alone, massive and confident. She scanned the other fighters with a predator’s grin, flexing her huge muscles as if daring anyone to come at her.
The crowd roared. The stakes were high. The air was electric with tension.
Meanwhile, Iryoku… was crouched lazily at the edge of the platform, near where the girls sat. His face was relaxed, almost bored, as he gently watched a small bee flutter by, utterly unbothered by the chaos around him.
The girls stared at him with confusion.
“What is he doing…?” Alessandra asked, her brow twitching.
“Shouldn’t he be on guard already?”
Reika let out a small sigh, but her voice was calm.
“Let’s just trust him.”
Yumi, resting her chin on her hand, said nothing—just kept her eyes on him.
“One...”
“Two…”
“Three…”
“GO!!”
With that, the match exploded into action. Fighters charged from every direction—fists, kicks, and bodies slamming into each other in a storm of violence.
Cheers and gasps echoed from the crowd as—within seconds—several combatants were launched clean off the platform, blood and bruises flying everywhere.
“Ten warriors out!” Ligero called from his high vantage point, overseeing the chaos with sharp, calculating eyes.
Amid the frenzy, Iryoku hadn’t moved an inch. Still crouched on the edge, he gave a lazy yawn, completely ignoring the fighting behind him.
A bulky warrior noticed him—seemingly distracted, vulnerable, facing away—and made a beeline for him.
He jumped, aiming a powerful kick at Iryoku’s back—
—but THUD.
With barely a shift in his posture, Iryoku sidestepped just enough to avoid the kick. The attacking warrior missed entirely, stumbled forward—and tumbled off the platform with a shout.
“Another out!” Ligero announced, sounding impressed.
The girls blinked. And then it clicked.
“Oohh…” Reika murmured, smirking.
“Good job, Iryoku!” Yumi called, blushing slightly as she waved at him.
Iryoku turned and gave her a big grin and a lazy wave, looking genuinely pleased.
Reika leaned forward slightly, hands cupped around her mouth.
“You got this, Iryoku! Go for it!”
Iryoku waved again, clearly enjoying the attention.
Alessandra hesitated for a moment, her eyes lingering on him. Then, barely audible, she muttered under her breath—
“…Fight.”
The battle raged on. More and more contestants were either thrown off the platform or collapsed from sheer exhaustion. Some, watching the chaos unfold, simply gave up and stepped away.
The larger factions held the advantage—ganging up, swarming, and eliminating lone warriors with ruthless efficiency.
Nearby, wounded fighters were treated by healer-mages stationed around the arena.
Meanwhile…
Iryoku was lying on his side, one hand propping up his cheek, his expression sleepy and completely relaxed—as if he were sunbathing instead of competing in a full-contact brawl.
Another fighter noticed him—again—and rushed in to push him off the edge, thinking he was vulnerable.
Bad move.
At the last second, Iryoku shifted his body just slightly.
WHOOSH—THUMP.
The attacker went flying off the platform with a yell, completely missing his target.
“Hehehe!” Kael giggled, bouncing in his seat.
“Big bro’s traps are so funny!”
Kima nodded beside him, grinning. “I didn’t know people fought like that.”
The girls couldn’t help but smile, shaking their heads in amusement.
Still resting casually, Iryoku finally rose to his feet. He dusted himself off, then turned to look behind him. A cluster of fighters had started to circle—clearly planning to rush him soon.
Instead of preparing to fight…
Iryoku turned to face the girls.
Then, slowly, he pointed straight at them—and the crowd, puzzled, began to turn and watch.
Without a hint of shame or irony, he began to dance.
First, he planted his feet shoulder-width apart.
He clapped his hands twice, then raised his fists close to his chest, elbows bent.
He started to rotate his arms in wide, looping circles, like he was charging up with invisible music—his shoulders swaying stiffly with each beat.
Then, with a sharp inhale, he threw both fists straight into the air and began to thrust his hips side to side in a strangely sensual rhythm.
His face?
Dead serious.
He ended the routine by pointing both fingers at the girls, motioning dramatically for them to come over—his hips still gently swaying.
The crowd stared.
Total silence for a beat.
Then: confused laughter, a few scattered cheers—and someone shouted:
“WHAT IS HE DOING?!”
From their seats, the girls were stunned. Reika blinked in disbelief, Yumi covered her face in embarrassment, and Alessandra looked away, her face burning red.
“He’s… seriously doing this. In front of everyone,” Reika muttered, hand on her forehead.
“He’s not even pretending to be normal anymore... I changed my mind. I don’t want to cheer for him anymore,” Yumi added softly, though her lips curled into a reluctant smile.
Suddenly, several fighters who had been circling Iryoku rushed in, fists flying and feet swinging.
But Iryoku didn’t stop dancing.
He spun, dipped, and shuffled backward—his bare feet sliding confidently across the stone, hips rolling in tight circles, chest loose, shoulders swaying.
Each motion was fluid and sensual, like a fighter warming up for a street brawl.
He moved with rhythm, almost drunkenly—arms raised and snapping down in beat.
He clapped his hands again—once, twice—then twisted at the waist, lifted one leg, and delivered a sharp, stylish side kick that connected cleanly with an attacker’s chest, without missing a beat.
With slick footwork and perfectly timed dodges, he let the momentum of his dance guide him.
He dipped into a wide-legged stance, rolled his shoulders, then leaned backward to dodge a punch—smirking, spinning out with exaggerated grace, hips swiveling the whole time.
His attackers, flustered by his bizarre yet precise rhythm, stumbled into one another.
A few crashed together and tumbled off the platform entirely, tripping over his dance-fueled misdirection.
All the while, Iryoku kept moving—his movements sensual and magnetic, like a kickboxer dancing with tavern girls one moment and fending off thugs the next.
Hips swaying, arms flowing, legs stomping in rhythm.
From his seat in the VIP tent, Mr. K finally raised his head.
His amber eyes—sharp slits like a panther’s—locked onto Iryoku with piercing intensity.
Short white hair framed his face, a single bang falling slightly over one eye.
His smooth, expressionless black mouth mask concealed most of his lower face, a faint scar peeked out just beneath its edge, etched across his tanned skin.
He didn’t speak.
But his posture shifted slightly—straightening, attentive.
He was watching now.
Back on the platform, only a handful of fighters remained. Iryoku scanned the battlefield. Not far from him, Goka was wreaking havoc, effortlessly swatting warriors aside with her massive fists. She looked like she was having the time of her life.
Closer to Iryoku, two remaining demihuman contestants hesitated—one was a burly man with a long beard and thick chest hair, the other a gangly fighter with absurdly long arms and legs, hunched like a mantis. Both looked unsure whether to approach the lunatic dancer who had just eliminated their group.
Iryoku’s expression shifted.
He crouched slightly and let out a high, exaggerated “WAAAAAAAAAH!”—a wild battle cry straight out of old martial arts movies.
His movements changed—now faster, sharper. He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, hands raised: one palm open, the other curled into a loose fist. With a sudden motion, he swiped his thumb under his nose and pointed at his opponents with a taunting gesture.
“Come on… try me,” he seemed to say, beckoning them with a cocky wave.
“Now he’s doing kung fu too?” Yumi muttered, scratching her head in confusion.
But this time, Alessandra didn’t find it silly at all. Something about it pulled her in. She found herself watching more intently, even leaning forward slightly.
The crowd was still growing louder, the energy electric. More people noticed Iryoku’s unorthodox style and were starting to enjoy the spectacle.
The two remaining opponents hesitated no longer—one lunged with a fist, the other with a flying kick.
Iryoku waited for the perfect moment. Then—he moved.
With blinding speed, he ducked under the punch, twisted to the side, and slammed two precise strikes into pressure points on their ribs.
“WOOOOOOOOOH!” he cried again, letting out another exaggerated martial-arts yell.
Then he front-kicked the gangly man, knocking him back.
He clenched his muscles, then in a flash, dropped into a full split—legs wide on the stone platform. The tall bearded man didn’t react in time and—
BAM.
A perfectly aimed uppercut—right to the groin.
“WA-TAAAAAH!!” Iryoku shouted again, his eyes wide, face twisted in a dramatic, almost cartoonish expression.
The crowd burst into laughter.
“GO FOR IT, WEIRD GUY!” someone yelled.
Another voice joined in.
“THIS GUY’S A MANIAC—BUT I LOVE IT!”
Even some of the important people in the VIP booth chuckled under their breath.
From their seats, Reika facepalmed.
“I can’t believe this is actually working.”
“It’s like… absurd genius,” Yumi added, eyes wide.
Alessandra said nothing, but her heart was pounding.
He’s so unpredictable… and confident… she thought. It’s kind of amazing.
With space finally cleared around him, Iryoku took a moment to scan the battlefield again.
Only three fights remained:
At the center, the gorilla woman, Goka, was exchanging brutal blows with a group of dwarves. Despite being outnumbered, she held her ground through sheer force—every punch she landed sounded like thunder, shaking the stone tiles beneath them. The dwarves, with their thick, solid bodies, matched her strength in bursts, but she was clearly pushing them back.
To the right, a group of elves was struggling against a tall demihuman with feline features—a wild lion-like mane and a powerful build. The clash was fierce; even the graceful elves seemed overwhelmed by the beastman’s relentless ferocity.
And finally, near the edge of the platform, the bear-man and the skinny shady guy—the same duo Iryoku had met earlier—were locked in combat with a massive demihuman even larger than Goka, with a long face and a high ponytail.
“A horse guy?” Iryoku muttered, narrowing his eyes.
The opponent had incredible reach and strength, using his long limbs to keep both attackers at bay with precision and power.
Seeing the horse warrior dominating the fight, Iryoku rushed in.
As the skinny man darted in from the right, the horse-man braced to counter—
but just then, a blur of motion zipped in from the left.
Iryoku’s foot struck his ankle, just as the horse-man shifted his weight forward to punch and kick.
The impact was subtle, but enough to throw off his balance.
“Wha—?!” the horse-man staggered.
The bear-man and shady guy seized the opening.
THUD! A double combo slammed into him, sending the towering figure crashing to the ground.
He groaned, then raised a hand in surrender.
“And another one out!” Ligero’s voice boomed from the viewing platform.
But this time, his sharp gaze lingered—fixed directly on a single person: Iryoku.
Iryoku casually appeared beside the victorious duo.
“Great job, guys!” he said, holding up his hand for a high-five.
Both men flinched slightly, confused.
“You’re still alive?!”
Iryoku grinned.
“Hey, no killing allowed, remember?” he chuckled.
His gaze shifted back to the remaining skirmishes.
“That lion guy and the horse-man… I think they’re part of the same faction as that gorilla woman. Probably infiltrated together.”
The bear-man and the shady guy exchanged glances. It made sense now—winning 200 gold coins from Mr. K that easily? It felt almost too good to be true.
“Let’s team up,” Iryoku offered.
“We’ll take out the lion first, then we’ll hit the gorilla girl together. What do you say?”
The two looked around, weary but considering the tactical advantage. Their chances were better as a group.
The bear-man finally nodded.
“Alright, twig. But after that… it’s every man for himself.”
Iryoku grinned wide.
“Deal.”
Across the ring, the lion-man roared as he grabbed one of the elves by the leg and swung him through the air like a weapon, smashing into his companions.
“Is that all you’ve got? Hah! This is easy!” he bellowed with laughter.
The elves—slim, agile, and fast—did their best to dodge. But despite their speed, several were knocked out or flung from the ring. In the end, only two remained: a male and a female, both panting, sweaty, and clearly reaching their limit.
Iryoku’s gaze lingered on the elven girl for a moment. She moved with sharp precision, her stylish, sweat-soaked underwear clinging to her lithe frame, chest rising and falling with each breath. He ogled her briefly, then his thoughts drifted.
Huh… they’re different from Agnes, he mused, noting their taller, more slender builds and much longer ears.
Maybe they’re a different kind of elf?
But he didn’t linger—he dashed forward, drawing the lion-man’s attention.
“More weaklings?” the lion growled.
“You must be slightly stronger weaklings if you’ve lasted this long.”
He lunged, claws slashing—but Iryoku just smirked.
He’d fought a tiger-man yesterday. Compared to that, this guy wasn’t even half as dangerous. And without using Leben, he was no real threat.
Iryoku shifted his weight smoothly, subtly guiding the lion’s swipe aside and using his opponent’s own momentum to throw him off balance. The lion stumbled forward, wide open.
“Gotcha.”
Before the lion could recover, the bear-man barreled in like a battering ram, slamming into him mid-air.
WHAM! The impact knocked him to the ground with a heavy grunt.
The skinny guy rushed in right after, unleashing a flurry of sharp strikes.
The two remaining elves, seizing the moment, joined in.
Iryoku burst into laughter and joined the beatdown, throwing a few casual kicks at the lion’s side.
After a flurry of blows, the lion was down—arms covering his face, breath ragged.
“I surrender!” he barked.
The crowd erupted in cheers as another powerhouse was eliminated.
From the spectator seats, the girls couldn’t help themselves.
“Iryoku! Iryoku!” both Yumi and Reika chanted with excitement.
Kael and Kima joined in, clapping and giggling.
Yumi and Reika looked at each other and smiled—it almost felt like being back at school. They imagined themselves in the gym, cheering for Iryoku at a sports match, rising with his team.
For a moment, they were just ordinary girlfriends, watching their guy shine.
It was a new feeling for them.
Alessandra stood, leaning forward with wide eyes, hands clenched in front of her chest.
She didn’t say anything out loud… but her body betrayed her emotions.
She wanted to cheer, too.
Back in the ring, the two elves now stood beside Iryoku’s team. He had convinced them to join forces, and together, they turned to face their final opponent. All of them nodded in agreement, exchanging a few quick words.
Goka—the towering, gorilla-like woman—stood alone.
The group of dwarves that had fought her were now slumped off the platform, groaning. She cracked her knuckles, unfazed.
“Heheh… that was a nice warm-up,” she said with a toothy grin.
“Now let’s see what you all have to offer.”
She pounded her fists together and stepped forward, muscles rippling.
Iryoku glanced at the bear-man beside him.
“You know, bro…” he said, smirking.
“If you beat her, you could totally claim her.”
The bear-man blinked.
“What?”
“Think about it. You defeat her, and she’ll have no choice but to respect you. And then… who knows?”
Iryoku threw an arm around his shoulders.
“The powerful, bear warrior… and the jungle queen. It’s destiny. Now go! Make me proud!”
The bear-man stared ahead, face blank… and then, despite himself, took a bold step forward.
The rest of the team, seeing him move, followed close behind.
The final showdown was about to begin.
“AAAHHHH!!” the bear-man roared as he charged, hyped up and blazing with energy.
“Oho? Come here, boy,” Goka growled, grinning wide as she met him head-on.
The two clashed with a heavy slam—muscle against muscle, their feet grinding against the stone.
“Not bad,” she mocked, clearly enjoying the brawl. “You’ve got decent strength.”
She was half a head taller than him.
But just then, the elven duo appeared at her flanks, striking her ribs with quick, precise punches.
“Tch!” Goka hissed.
From behind, the skinny shady guy leapt onto her back and began raining rapid strikes on her neck.
Goka resisted for a second—snarling, struggling—and with a powerful shake, she threw everyone off at once.
The bear-man hit the floor hard with a grunt. The elf duo immediately fainted, while the shady guy tumbled backward, his head spinning—but he was still conscious.
As Goka turned to finish off the shady fighter—
THWACK!
A flying dropkick struck her square in the face out of nowhere.
“Guh—!” she gasped as her massive frame toppled backward.
She hit the ground with a thunderous impact.
And there, landing smoothly on his feet—
Iryoku.
He calmly brushed invisible dust off his shoulder and raised one hand in front of his face.
Then, leaning over the fallen Goka—still clutching her face in pain—Iryoku performed a slow, exaggerated wave of his hand in front of her face.
“You… can’t see me.”
Immediately after, Iryoku broke into a bizarre stepping dance, shaking his shoulders and arms as he swayed rhythmically. He shifted onto one foot, then the other, executing a taunting, exaggerated sway—like something straight out of a masked lucha libre show—drawing the crowd’s attention.
The crowd erupted—half laughing, half cheering.
He wasn’t just winning. He was putting on a show.