Kiernan shed sweat as he tried every move in his Iron Style arsenal, and even though he had done every technique thousands of times, he failed to do them now.
‘What is this? How come my own consciousness can just take away my martial arts? No… it must be my mind playing tricks on me.
He scratched his hair, then sat back down and interlaced his fingers while staring at the wall in front of him.
Fen’s tail wagged behind him as he looked with concern at his master, knowing that something was going on that troubled him.
‘…He wasn’t wrong though. In these official competitions, I punch in a way that I don’t permanently damage my opponent.
‘A few times, I have stopped holding back and fought with intent to hurt, but it looks like my consciousness wants me to fight like that all the time?
‘The difference between me and my past self is that I know how to self-control. Back then, such a concept was foreign to me.
‘Of course I don’t want to go and put every opponent I face into an early retirement home.’
Kiernan had tried testing other martial arts, and he knew how to grapple, wrestle, box, and deliver some good kicks.
However, when it came to Iron Style, it was as if he had never done any martial arts in his life before. Read full story at novel⟡fire.net
It was such a strange feeling.
At that moment, the door to his room opened, and Aoi came in with a smile on her face, sat next to Kiernan, and put her head on his lap.
“Did I interrupt you?”
Kiernan shook his head, keeping his troubles away from her sight.
“I checked the missions, and there was a crowd gathered around the mission board. Most of the missions were immediately taken, but everyone was hesitant to take some of the missions.
“It’s because if you fail those, you can lose a lot of points. Even more than you get from successfully clearing the mission!”
Aoi said, pulled out her phone, and showed Kiernan the pictures of the missions.
Kiernan thought to himself.
At that moment, someone knocked on the door, and with a master key, the door got opened, and a bun-wearing woman stepped into the room.
She had her chin lifted, as if she was looking down on everyone, and she was wearing old-school clothes with glasses resting on top of her nose bridge.
“Miss Arakawa Aoi, what do you think you’re doing on here?”
She asked, and as she saw Aoi lying with her head on top of the young man’s lap, her eyebrow twitched so much that it almost fell off her face.
Aoi asked as she cocked her head to the side.
She didn’t even know who this old lady was and what she was doing in her and Kiernan’s room.
“This is the boys’ side of the mansion. The girls are staying in the west wing.”
The old lady said with a sharp tone—so sharp it could cut steel.
“It’s fine. We’re engaged, you see!”
Aoi showed the sparkling ring with a big smile on her face, but the old lady wasn’t amused at all.
She crossed her arms, tapped her purple-nailed fingers against her arms, and tapped her feet against the floor.
“Go to your room, right of this instance, or you’ll be thrown out of the selection rounds. The boys and girls are separated for a reason!”
She shrieked with a very high-pitched voice.
If she were an opera singer, she could easily shatter all the glasses in her vicinity with a single note.
Aoi with displeasure stood up, and to piss off the old lady, she quickly kissed Kiernan on the lips and then ran out of the room.
With a twitching eyebrow, the old lady slammed the door shut and stomped after the black-haired girl.
Kiernan stood up, took off his jacket, and only stood in his white t-shirt—it was loose, so it showed off his muscular arms.
He wrapped some white tape around his knuckles, tightened them nicely, and then tossed the white tape back to his inventory.
‘…I don’t have Iron Style with me, so I’ll have to improvise.’
In the far corner of the mansion, punches flew and kicks whiffed in the air as the two young men fought against themselves.
It was just one fight happening from a hundred other fights happening simultaneously. In here, they weren’t anything special.
However, back in their home countries, both of these young men were aces of their schools and were the top contenders for winning the nationals this year.
The fight turned bloody with the crimson blood spilling, and both of them were injuring each other so much that they were in danger of having to skip the nationals because of all the injuries!
It took another twenty or thirty minutes before one of the fighters got knocked unconscious, and while panting heavily, the winner walked away just to collapse a few meters away.
In the black wristwatch of the victor, he gained exactly zero points, as his opponent didn’t have any points either.
Neither of them bothered to check whether their opponents had any points to begin with, so it was a completely pointless fight.
A dark-skinned young man stopped before the two collapsed young men, smirked, and put a cigarette to his lips.
He was tall, over two meters, and had black rasta braids tied back. With black eyes and sharp cheekbones, he was the epitome of cool.
Wearing loose shirts and shorts, which only reached his knees, left plenty of skin open to show all his tattoos that were running up his arms and legs.
The black wristwatch glinted in the ceiling light.
[994. Karmea Reck – Points: 0]
‘…They didn’t give any points to begin this shitty selection. This is why I, and most, didn’t take missions, as those who successfully clear the missions will be the only ones with points.
‘Thus, everyone will go and challenge them for a fight, but of course, you cannot threaten them into a fight…
He grinned, bit the cigarette in half, and trotted away while whistling a tune from his childhood about songs of pirates, plundering, and adventure on the high seas.