>>5674639

Previously, on TOURNAMENT ARC: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Tournament%20Arc%2C+Martial%20Arts
Discord: https://discord.gg/4p9mmau

>>5674640


???
197X
15 years ago


The dressing room before a match is a lonely place. It's just you, alone with the anticipation in your nerves and the beating in your chest.

The air in here is thick with the scent of leather, sweat, and fear. The hum of the crowded arena seeps through the walls, causing the room to thrum with a barely contained energy. Your eyes are shut, but you can easily picture the dressing room around you in your mind. The cement floor, the lines of lockers and equipment, the plain wooden benches. You've been here many times.

Not like this, though. Not like today.

You open your eyes to see your hands. Dark skin tanned from sunlight and singed from consistent exposure to heat. Carefully wrapped bandages hide raw and bruised knuckles from earlier fights.

You feel up to the challenge of this fight. It's true that you took some injuries of varying severities over the course of your journey through the Kumite, but you can work around them. Your body has plenty of strength left in it. Every muscle in you is as tense as a coiled spring, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Your stomach chakra slowly burns with unspent power like a caged tiger.

Your problem is not whether you are capable of winning the upcoming fight. You know you can win. Your questions lie elsewhere.

Your opponent tonight is known to you. Daisuke Saito, inheritor of the Suigetsu-ryu style from his father, also a renowned Kumite combatant. He's fast and skilled, and he'll be a difficult opponent even for you. Everyone knows that Daisuke is man of honor, discipline, and unwavering determination. Having shared a drink with him in the past, you also know that he's a family man, with two young kids and a devoted but sickly wife.

That makes what you've been asked to do tonight even harder.

Your mind returns to that day, and the words your boss spoke to you.The order that was given to you. An order to send a message of fear. A warning to any who would challenge the boss and his dominion.

Death happens in the Kumite. It's not the goal. But it happens. Today is different. Your order is to make sure that it happens today.

Your order is to kill Daisuke Saito in the ring.

>You are uncertain. You still don't know if you can accept this.
>Though you have doubts, you will cast them aside and focus on the match.
>There was never room for sentimentality. You'll carry out the order.

>>5674643
>There was never room for sentimentality. You'll carry out the order.

>>5674643
>Though you have doubts, you will cast them aside and focus on the match.

>>5674643
>You are uncertain. You still don't know if you can accept this.

>>5674639
>Though you have doubts, you will cast them aside and focus on the match

>>5674643
>Though you have doubts, you will cast them aside and focus on the match.

>>5674643
>>Though you have doubts, you will cast them aside and focus on the match.
We are human after all- but we are also determined.

>>5674643
>There was never room for sentimentality. You'll carry out the order.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dj1XRs2y0Uo

>>5674643
>There was never room for sentimentality. You'll carry out the order.

Sets up room to perhaps question that attitude later and have a breakdown as all the guilt floods in at once. Every other way we've already dealt with the guilt one way or another. Alternatively, we're a based killing machine. Either works.

>>5674643

Doubts and sentimentality have no place here. You will carry out the order, although concentrating on the match comes first. After all, you could hardly do your job if you were to lose. Your focus is on the fight.

The door to the room opens.

There's only one man who would violate the sanctity of the dressing room of a combatant before the final match of the tournament. The man who owns the building. The man who runs the Kumite.

Jason Carter, dressed in his usual attire of a fine tailored suit. A tall, muscular man with the threatening grace of a predator and a commanding presence. Despite his appearance as a man of business, he's a martial artist with formidable skills, enough to fight his way to the top of the Kumite and claim ownership with his own hands. His intimidating aura is enough to put even the strongest warriors on edge. You're about to fight in the finals of the greatest martial artists in the world, and you don't know what would happen if you faced him. You don't dare to consider it.

"The moment has come, Khan." Carter's low voice is filled with a cool menace that makes the words into a threat. He slowly approaches you to stand within arm's length, looking down on you. "Remember our agreement."

Carter's words hang in the air, a reminder of the instructions he delivered before. Tonight, winning isn't enough. The match tonight is a matter of life and death, and Saito's fate has been preordained.

You feel the burden of duty like a heavy weight in your chest. This is the path you chose. All that remains is to walk it.

Carter's gaze does not falter, continuing to probe you for signs of hestitation or doubt. You meet his gaze, showing your resolve. Whatever he was searching you for, Carter seems to be satisfied in finding it. His hand falls on your shoulder, a strong grip. Reassurance, or a threat? Perhaps both. He lets go and steps back. "It's time."

Even if you were to hold doubts, you feel bound to carry out this man's orders.

>You owe him a debt. Carter helped you when you were in a desperate situation, and you feel obligated to repay him ever since.
>You have people you care about. Carter's reach is vast, and his threats are not idle. You have to do what it takes to keep them safe.
>You share his vision. Carter's ambitions resonate with you, and to achieve them, you believe the ends justify the means.

>>5674710
>You share his vision. Carter's ambitions resonate with you, and to achieve them, you believe the ends justify the means.

>>5674710
>You share his vision. Carter's ambitions resonate with you, and to achieve them, you believe the ends justify the means.

>>5674710
>You share his vision. Carter's ambitions resonate with you, and to achieve them, you believe the ends justify the means.

>>5674710
>You have people you care about. Carter's reach is vast, and his threats are not idle. You have to do what it takes to keep them safe.

>>5674710
>>You share his vision. Carter's ambitions resonate with you, and to achieve them, you believe the ends justify the means.

>>5674710

Carter's vision of the world is one that you share. A world of strength, where a man is free to write his own laws. Morality is a crutch the meek use to justify their own weakness. Any laws or morals they impose are merely attempts to shield themselves from the only rule that matters. The strong survive. All else is illusion and vanity.

You take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Your jaw is set, your gaze unflinching, as you meet Carter's eyes.

There are no more words to be said. Your choice is made, and the time to carry it out is now.

You stand up from the bench. You roll your shoulders, flex your arm muscles, tighten and loosen your fists. The contained power burns inside you. You're ready.

"Bring honor to yourself, Khan," Carter says.

You leave the dressing room and begin the long walk down the dark hallway. At the end of the hall you can see the light of the arena that awaits you. The roar of the crowd gets louder as the moment of the fight approaches, a raucous mix of cheers, boos, and anticipation.

You put aside your thoughts of the future, of morality, of choices. Only one thing matters now. The fight.

Time slows down. Every step is a commitment, every heartbeart is a countdown. This is the path that you've chosen. Now all that remains is to walk it.

You step out of the darkness and into your destiny.

>>5675199


Mumbai, India
199X
Now


Old memories are persistent in your thoughts today. Sometimes It's hard to believe they belong to you. They feel like things that happened to another person in a distant age, completely unrelated to the you that stands here today. Reliving your memory of that day feels like watching an old grainy videotape, seeing small figures on a blurry screen carrying out their predestined actions.

The sun sets over the bustling chaos of the city, a muted ember painting the city in subdued, nostalgic orange hues. The waning light casts long shadows. The hum of the city rises to your ears as workers return home for the day and the nightlife begins.

Another cycle ended. Another twilight, beautiful and melancholy. And yet the sun will rise again tomorrow, relentlessly and without pause. Much like the city. Much like life.

Mumbai, despite its vast size, is a crowded place. But even with the multitudes of the people below, the constant noise of voices and traffic, there are places one can find solitude. One such location is this isolated rooftop, which gives you a place to meditate and look over the city below.

You hold in your hand a memento of those old days. A photograph of the Kumite top eight finalists, from fifteen years ago. You stand in the back, your towering frame looming over the other fighters, a glowering expression on your face. Daisuke stands nearby, photogenic as always, with a charming smile for the camera. When this photograph was taken, neither of you knew what the future had store for you. In different ways, you would both lose everything.

You've lost, traded, or pawned most of your tokens from those days. Medals, trophies, memorabilia, all gone. Somehow this photograph has remained in your possession.

>Burn it. The past is a part of you, but does not define you.
>Keep it. You haven't let go of your regrets.
>Throw it off the roof. Reject the past.

>>5675204
>Keep it.

The pain of the past is a lesson not to repeat it. Or perhaps of the cost of the way ahead.

>>5675204
>Burn it. The past is a part of you, but does not define you.

So the story so far, as I understand it.

Jack's dad [jack being the battle junkie who only knows how to use chi to do a super explodes punch] used to run "The circle" which was this elite crime syndicate dealing in every form of dark vice known to man and it runs this elite fighting tourney named the Kumite.

15 years ago, there was a power struggle and Carter overthrew and killed Jack's dad but a mysterious man [maybe current PC?] spirited him away from the flaming penthouse and then away from the orphange and taught him to fight as he did so. Still hunted by Carter, who sent an assassin after the boy while he was training with the Saito lads but was stopped by teenage ass kicking.

In the Kumite 15 years ago, Daisuke was murdered by the current PC for threatening Carter's dominion over the title of strongest which caused quite a buzz at the time and led to his families decline. His eldest son is currently trying to enter the Kumite to find answers for his dad's death, while his daughter has entered for the cash prize to save their family estate.

10 years ago, or maybe 5 I forget which, the Police girl's partner and mentor tried to infiltrate the Kumite using another man's spot and the body was never found, prompting her to beat up the same contestant [wild dog] and with Interpol try to draw out carter using another contestant [jack] to help proceedings along.
Jack's there to kick the junk out of people. Because he's Shonen like that.

And on Carter's end, he has an estrangement with his second born son, who's now come back for revenge. And he's quite dangerious as it turns out.

So each contestant has been selected by Carter to catch out as many threats to his plans and organisation as he possibly can and then wipe them out in a secret black site tournement, skewing probabilities by handing out information about the opponents to only one party to try and give them an advantage.

The only one who doesn't fit neatly in with the rest of them, or as a weave in this convoluted web of madness, is the Brazilian girl in the favelaa's. Who's connection isn't revealed yet.

>>5675251
That's partly right. More will be revealed in this chapter.

I'll remind you of something that might help with a fact you have confused. Jack's last name is also Carter.

>>5675263
Ohhh.

Whoops. So Jack's dad is the one ordering the hit, and the guy in japan hasn't taken over yet.

Given all this is from memory, I'm happy with that.

>>5675204
>Keep it. You haven't let go of your regrets

>>5675204
>Burn it. The past is a part of you, but does not define you.

>>5675204
>>Burn it. The past is a part of you, but does not define you.

>>5675204
>Keep it. You haven't let go of your regrets

>>5675204

The past does not define who you are, you think to yourself. It's time to let go. You channel a small amount of energy from your stomach chakra through your arm and into your fingers. Wisps of smoke rise from the photograph, and then flames take hold, blackening the edges that start to curl inwards, crisping to ash.

Suddenly, seized by remorse and indecision, you regret your choice. What were you thinking? You extinguish the flames as fast as you can before you lose the memento altogether, patting them down with your bare hands, used to the heat of fire.

Grimacing, you survey what's left of the photograph. The damage is done, but most of it remains readable. Singed, but salvaged. All of the faces are still visible, except one.

The light of the setting sun slowly fades from the city, replaced by the artificial brightness of streetlights and signs. You descend from the rooftop, leaving the quiet solitude behind as you step back into the noise and chaos of the street.

You'd better get some rest. As usual, you have an early morning ahead of you.

Before dawn breaks, you are already on site. Harsh floodlights illuminate the muddy earth, steel beams, and concrete of the construction project. Around you, workers rush from one place to another. The air is filled with the clanging of metal, the shouting of foremen, the mechanical roar of heavy machinery, and the sharp whine of power tools.

Your morning is a ceaseless flow of physical labor. Hauling materials, operating equipment, and directing the younger workers. Your body, once honed to a fine weapon by discipline and training, is now used to carry heavy loads or drill a jackhammer.

>You take some pride in your job. There's satisfaction in hard work, and in building something real.
>It's a means to an end. You have to pay the bills somehow.
>This mundane life is a far cry from the danger and thrill of a fight between warriors.

>>5675512
>This mundane life is a far cry from the danger and thrill of a fight between warriors

>>5675512
>You take some pride in your job. There's satisfaction in hard work, and in building something real.

>>5675512
>his mundane life is a far cry from the danger and thrill of a fight between warriors.

>>5675512
>It's a means to an end. You have to pay the bills somehow.

>>5675512
>It's a means to an end. You have to pay the bills somehow.

>>5675512
>You take some pride in your job. There's satisfaction in hard work, and in building something real.

>>5675512
>>It's a means to an end. You have to pay the bills somehow.

>>5675512
>You take some pride in your job. There's satisfaction in hard work, and in building something real.

>>5675512
>It's a means to an end. You have to pay the bills somehow.

>>5675512

Pride and shame are luxuries. You can try to stand by your principles all you like, but when it comes down to it, survival comes first. Where to find food, where to find shelter, how to make it from one day to the next; these questions turn lofty ideals into smoke.

And so you took this job as a construction worker. One of many jobs you've had over the years that required nothing more than brute strength and stubborn will.

When it's finally time for a break, you step away from the noise of machinery and heat of the sun. and into a secluded, shadowed spot. Here is a makeshift break area you and some others have been using, a few improvised seats and tables made of crates and bricks. You sit down on a crate and unclip the battered metal thermos from your belt, unscrewing the cap to reveal the steaming chai inside.

You have a minute alone to savor the hot tea and relax weary muscles. The exertion required here doesn't compare to the strenuous training you once endured. But day in, day out, work without end, it takes a toll.

Fifteen years of this.

Motion at the corner of your vision rouses you from your thoughts. One of the younger workers is approaching the break area. This is Rajat, who likes conversations and who's got more curiosity than is good for him. He's in his early twenties. Basically still a kid. His face lights up with a smile as he sees you.

"Busy day, huh, Ram?" Rajat says, taking a seat on a nearby stack of bricks, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Hey, thanks for helping me out with that thing the other day. I tried to look like I knew what I was doing, but really I was clueless. You saved my ass. So, thanks."

>You try to be friendly. Conversation breaks up the monotony of the job.
>You keep a professional boundary, sticking to work related topics.
>You stay distant. It's better to keep your personal demons to yourself.

>>5675687
>You keep a professional boundary, sticking to work related topics.

>>5675687
>You keep a professional boundary, sticking to work related topics.

>>5675687
>You keep a professional boundary, sticking to work related topics.

>>5675687

"Just some wisdom from experience," you say, keeping a professional distance. "No reason for anyone to get hurt on the job."

"Well, I appreciate it. I really need this job, you know?" Rajat goes on to ramble about his family's struggles, their financial burdens, the whole sob story. So much for professional boundaries. Maybe you should have let him get fired.

You tune Rajat out for a while, until a certain phrase catches your attention. "What was that?" you ask him.

"Underground fights," Rajat says eagerly. "Do you know anything about them?"

Years of memories, fighting your way up through lesser tournaments, shaping and honing your skills and physique, all to culminate in your grand victory at the Kumite. "I might."

"I've heard about this place," Rajat continues. He looks from side to side, searching for anyone listening in, before leaning in closer. "They call it the Tiger Pit. Anything-goes fights with some of the best boxers and martial artists in Asia. There's a prize on the line, but it's not about money. It's about showing you're the best."

"What does this have to do with me?" you ask.

"Well, you seem like you might be into this. You're a big guy, you've obviously seen some action, I thought maybe you were into martial arts yourself. Maybe you want to see the new blood in action, right? Plus, I thought it might be fun. Something different, you know? I thought ..." Rajat's voice trails off and he leans back, realizing that he's broaching an unspoken barrier.

This is not something you want to deal with from some kid at work. You don't want social engagements. But. It has been a long time since you saw an arena. Maybe it might be interesting. Not participating, but just watching from the sidelines.

That, and Rajat clearly has no idea what he's doing. It's possible he'll get into trouble without someone experienced to watch his back. You owe him nothing. If he gets himself killed, it matters nothing to you. It's just a fact that it might happen.

>Agree to go the Tiger Pit tonight.
>It's not happening.

>>5675687
>You try to be friendly. Conversation breaks up the monotony of the job.

>>5675707
>Agree to go the Tiger Pit tonight.

>>5675707

>Agree to go the Tiger Pit tonight.

>>5675707
>Agree to go the Tiger Pit tonight.
Never escaped

>>5675707
>Agree

>>5675707
>It's not happening.
lmao what's a plot hook

>>5675707
>Agree to go the Tiger Pit tonight.
What's the harm in watching a few matches? Should be a good way to kill a few hours after work.

>>5675803
Kill, is the operative word.

>>5675808
Surely Rajat won't do something that forces our hand in such a way.
Surely.

>>5675707

Maybe it's because you're curious to see what the fighting scene looks like these days, find out whether anything's changed since your time. Maybe you're just worried about this kid getting in over his head. Maybe you're just bored with mundane life. Whatever the reason, you decide to go.

Rajat lights up when he hears you agree. He enthusiastically tells you the time and place he's heard of. Tonight at midnight, at the club Maharaja.

Break time ends, and you return to your toil. Over a long afternoon of hauling, lifting, and drilling, the air filled with the noise of machines and metal, your thoughts dwell on the possibilities.

You're trying not to make a big deal out of this. It's just a casual night out to check out a show and keep a dumb kid out of trouble. Sure, you haven't gone near an arena or a fighting ring in almost fifteen years, but that doesn't mean this is some kind of grand symbolic gesture of acceptance or rebirth. Watching two idiots beat the shit out of each other will be a little nostalgic. That's all.

Finally, the whistle ends to signal the end of the shift. You let out a groan as you put down your heavy tools and stretch your back. Another day, another dollar. Rajat departs with a smile and a wave, saying that he'll see you tonight.

With some time to spare in between your work shift and tonight's show, you head home to refresh yourself. You're hungry and covered in dirt after a day's work, as usual. Your run-down place doesn't have modern conveniences like a shower, so you clean yourself off in the usual way: heating a kettle of water on the stove, pouring it into a bucket, and using a smaller bucket to wash yourself. Afterwards, you fix yourself a simple meal of chapati bread and rice. You eat while looking out over the city, trying to accept where you are, here and now, and not think about how you got here.

You still have some time to kill after this. Need to keep yourself busy until midnight, rather than just sit here and brood.

>Meditate to try and find some peace within turmoil
>Unleash some frustration on your punching bag
>Look over your remaining mementos from the old days

>>5675949
>Meditate to try and find some peace within turmoil
Don't forget the incense.

>>5675949
>find peace

Gather Chi

>>5675949
>Look over your remaining mementos from the old days

>>5675949
>Meditate to try and find some peace within turmoil

>>5675949
>Meditate to try and find some peace within turmoil

>>5675949
>Unleash some frustration on your punching bag

>>5675949

You take your usual spot in the corner of your small living room, sitting on an aged mat that has borne your weight many times before. Slowly tuning out the noise of the city and the outside world, you focus inwards. Breathing low and deep, you sense the store of heat at your core, the endless flame that burns in your manipura, your stomach chakra. You close your eyes.

Many fighters who attune to the force of agni have a flickering soul. Their arts burn brightly and sputter out, a hearth turned to charcoal. Not you. Your soul is as deep and burning hot as the magma below stone. Your will is not a forest fire, leaping from tree to tree. Your will is flowing lava, unquenchable, unstoppable. Your energy center in your stomach chakra is the pit of a volcano. When the fire rises, it calls forth a cataclysm stronger than the earth itself.

At least, that's what it was, in another time. These days, the volcano is little more than a cold mountain, filled with ash and wisps of smoke. A memory of power. The magma still lies there, perhaps, deep in the ground. But will it erupt again? Who can say?

You find achieving the tranquility of meditation difficult today. You don't feel much more centered by the time you look outside and see the sun is setting. It's time to leave. You put on your worn-out jacket, check your wallet to see if you have any money left, and step outside into another warm evening in the city.

>>5676341

You find the place easily enough. On the surface, it's an unassuming textile warehouse. But a path through a maze of intricately woven rugs and colorful sheets leads to a heavy steel door. A burly man covered in tattoos stands guard. He sizes you up with a quick, skeptical look, but your unflinching gaze and hardened physique quickly quells any doubts the bouncer might have had. He steps aside with a gruff nod, unlocking the steel door and gesturing you through.

Stepping inside, you're hit right away with an onslaught of familiar sounds. The crowd's excited chatter, or the collective gasp at seeing a well-landed hit. The dull thud of fists meeting flesh.

The Tiger Pit is a big, dark open room with seating arranged around a circular fighting pit in the center. The walls of the fighting pit are unusually deep. The name is accurate. You could keep a tiger captive down there. Maybe that's how this place started out, two tigers thrown into the pit to tear each other apart. Now a different kind of savage beast battles for sport. Two men are in there now, one tall and lanky, the other shorter but built like a house. As you watch, each of them scores a blow on the other before dodging and weaving away, a violent dance of survival.

Around you, spectators cheer and shout, placing bets and shouting encouragements and threats at their chosen fighter. The air is thick with the heady mix of sweat, blood and the sickly sweet aroma of spilt alcohol. The ambiance is raw and visceral.

Everything layers on top of one another to create a elaborate tapestry of violence, taking you right back to the arenas of your past.

>The familiarity excites you. This is the kind of place where you once felt alive.
>It's disturbing. This is a life you left behind long ago, and resolved not to get dragged back into.
>You try to stay detatched. Just observe.

>>5676343
>It's disturbing.

>>5676343
>The familiarity excites you. This is the kind of place where you once felt alive.

>>5676343
>You try to stay detatched. Just observe.

>>5676343
>It's disturbing

We keep trying to stay out, but it always pulls us back in

>>5676343
>It's disturbing. This is a life you left behind long ago, and resolved not to get dragged back into.

>>5676343
>You try to stay detatched. Just observe.

>>5676343
>You try to stay detatched. Just observe.

>>5676343
>It's disturbing. This is a life you left behind long ago, and resolved not to get dragged back into.

>>5676343

It's disturbing, being here. Everything about this reminds you of another life, one you left behind a long time ago. A life you had resolved never to get dragged back into. Coming to watch a fight isn't the same as having one. But it still leaves a feeling of disgust, a dry, bitter taste like ash in your mouth.

Even if it was a mistake to come here, you're not about to turn around and walk out. You'll see this through. Shoving aside your memories of the old days, you refocus on the present.

Rajat's eyes are lit up with excitement as you approach him. "This is incredible! The fighters are so strong, I can't believe it!" As he talks, the shorter, heftier fighter lands a solid punch that sends the taller man staggering. Rajat adds his shouting to the tumult, shaking a handful of betting tickets high.

You take a moment to observe the fighters in the ring, estimate their skill and power level. No outer chi usage that you can sense. They seem like they've reached close to the pinnacle of what a person can do without the secret knowledge, a rudimentary tempering of body without any real access to stored energy. Strong for the mundane world. Not difficult for someone like you. Even after fifteen years of little to no training, the furnace that burns in your stomach, slowly and endlessly, still contains enough power to obliterate such men.

"There's a championship tonight," Rajat says eagerly. "The challenger is a guy from out of town, some up-and-coming hotshot. He's going up against the reigning Tiger Pit champion, Ravi the Rock!"

The taller combatant gets a strangehold on the bigger one, who struggles but is unable to break free, and eventually goes motionless. The fight is won. The victor raises his arms in celebration, while the loser is dragged away. The crowd cheers and boos with equal intensity depending on their chosen fighter. Rajat is one of the ones cheering.

>Assess the situation, get a read on the crowd and atmosphere
>Offer the naive Rajat some advice and a warning
>Stay cautious, keep an eye out for anything dangerous
>Find out information about the upcoming main event

>>5678179
>Stay cautious, keep an eye out for anything dangerous

>>5678179
>Assess the situation, get a read on the crowd and atmosphere

>>5678179
>Assess the situation, get a read on the crowd and atmosphere

>>5678179
>Assess the situation, get a read on the crowd and atmosphere

>>5678179
>Offer the naive Rajat some advice and a warning

>>5678179
>Find out information about the upcoming main event

>>5678179
>Assess the situation

something says that jack would be here, but a better one is that this is the preliminary for the kumite.

>>5678179

You take a few moments to assess the situation. The air is thick with the smell of liquor and grime and sweat. A cursory glance at the people tells you these are the riff-raff of the city. A mostly-honest laborer like yourself is about as high class as it gets here. Everyone else you can see is some form of scumbag. Thieves, thugs, pushers, and pimps. You could run a dredge through the city's polluted river and come up with a cleaner lot.

You pick out a few stay alert while hanging around in one place. Minions of whoever runs this place, ready to step in if things get heated between customers, or more likely, if one tries to renege on his bets.

There have always been places like this. Gladiators who dreamed of one day fighting in the Colosseum bled and died in pits like this. You yourself once fought many a bout in dark, blood-stained hellholes like this. It can take a long time for an underground fighter to work his way up to the elite, to the world of wealthy patrons, exclusive deals, and private fights for high society. Most never do. And even among those who can, some choose not to, and remain here in these pits. This becomes where they belong.

The voice of the announcer reverberates through the underground arena. "Ladies and gentleman! Tonight's main event is about to begin!" The air of anticipation in the club builds.

"First, your challenger! Returning here to India from Thailand, he is Arjun "Tiger Claw" Thakur!"

The man who steps into the pit is lean, wiry, and intense, an embodiment of raw energy and controlled ferocity. His eyes scan the arena, looking unimpressed by the spectacle, and completely unafraid of his upcoming opponent. The crowd's response to him is lukewarm at best, but you know better. You can see the spark, the hidden threat between the exterior. This man is dangerous.

"And his opponent, your champion of Mumbai and the Tiger Pit! Ravi "The Rock" Mehta!"

As the crowd's favorite enters the pit, the room fills with a deafening roar of approval. The champion, a walking wall of muscle, basks in the admiration from the crowd, acknowledging them with a wide smile full of confidence. But to your eyes, his physical might is unfocused. His swagger is ostentatious. He is a showman and an egoist, a sack full of water to be punctured and left to drain.

The crowd is full of excitement and tension, but it's for nothing. This fight is already over.

You turn to share a comment with Rajat, but there's nothing but an empty chair next to you. You search the room, trying to catch sight of him, but can't spot him anywhere. Concern makes its presence known momentarily before being thrust down. You aren't the kid's guardian. He can make his own mistakes.

>Turn back to the ring and focus on the match. The Tiger Claw's demonstration of his technique should be interesting, if nothing else.
>Despite your dismissal, you can't ignore your concerns. Search for Rajat in the crowd.

>>5678799
>Despite your dismissal, you can't ignore your concerns. Search for Rajat in the crowd.

>>5678799
>Despite your dismissal, you can't ignore your concerns. Search for Rajat in the crowd.
All our choices so far have been leaning towards us mostly just being here to keep Rajat out of too much trouble, since we're not really interested in the fighting itself. This is more in keeping with that thread. That said, I'm amenable to not white knighting for him.

>>5678799
>Turn back to the ring and focus on the match. The Tiger Claw's demonstration of his technique should be interesting, if nothing else.

>>5678799
>Despite your dismissal, you can't ignore your concerns. Search for Rajat in the crowd.

>>5678799
>Despite your dismissal, you can't ignore your concerns. Search for Rajat in the crowd.
He went to bet on the champion, didn't he?
>If we don't find him before the betting is over, place a bet on the challenger so that we can lend Rajat money to pay off his inevitable debt to the Indian mafia.

>>5678799
>Where did he go.

We can experience the challenger's style first hand later.

>>5678804
Yeah, there is bound to be a dissonance if we go out of our way for him. I'd say that if we can't find him with our look then we should let it be.
Dude vanished from next to us, it's right to wonder where he is. if we can't find him, then he has to be a big boy.

>>5678799
>Despite your dismissal, you can't ignore your concerns. Search for Rajat in the crowd.

>>5678799

The air is electric as the main event begins, and the boisterous noise of the spectators forms a cacophonous backdrop. You navigate the dense crowds of people, a throng of packed bodies and noise and smoke. You scan for Rajat, but you're unable to spot him anywhere.

Before you can find any clues to his whereabouts, a shockwave of emotion ripples through the crowd from the pit outwards. Curious, you move up near the edge of the pit. With your height, you're easily able to see over the front row crowded up at the edge. The young challenger, Tiger Claw, is brutalizing the champion with a ferocious display of speed and power. Even as you watch, a devastating blow knocks Mehta off his feet and sprawling onto the ground. He doesn't get back up. The crowd erupts in noise, mostly boos, dismayed at seeing their favorite dethroned with seemingly no effort at all.

As Arjun raises his hand in triumph and surveys the jeering crowd, his eyes meet yours. A surge of recognition and familiarity passes between you. Not that you've ever seen this youngster before, but now that you have a better look at him, you instantly recognize the signs of an arts user. The chi circulation, the tempering of bone and muscle -- there's no mistaking it. What's more, he's perceived the same in you. A mutual understanding is formed in that moment, an unspoken acknowledgment of strength.

A sudden clamor pulls your attention away from the staredown. Looking for the source, you find exactly what you had hoped not to find: Rajat cornered by a small group of angry ruffians, a panicked expression on his face. Probably the boy put down a huge bet on Mehta, thinking he couldn't possibly lose, and then couldn't pay up.

>Intervene and work something out with the betting crew. Maybe there's some way to avoid getting violent.
>Diplomacy is pointless here. Don't bother talking, just start hitting.
>Walk away from this. It's not your problem, and you have other things on your mind.

>>5681286
>Diplomacy is pointless here. Don't bother talking, just start hitting.

Purely because I despise /qst/ diplomancery attempts. Punch. It's a language thugs understand.

>>5681286
>Walk away from this. It's not your problem, and you have other things on your mind.

>>5681286
>Diplomacy is pointless here. Don't bother talking, just start hitting.
We are too old and too tired to pretend that we're something we aren't.

>>5681286
>Diplomacy is pointless here. Don't bother talking, just start hitting.

>>5681286
>Walk away from this. It's not your problem, and you have other things on your mind.

>>5681286
Called it.

Hmm.

So regretful that we killed a man, can't leave behind the past and we followed Carter's order because we believed that the strong rule, and the weak die.

With this in mind, while it may have changed in 15 years, the boy either survives or dies on his own merits.

>Walk away.

>>5681286
I heard there's a tie
>Diplomacy is pointless here. Don't bother talking, just start hitting.

>>5681286

You aren't a diplomat, and you're too old to pretend to be something you're not. Even if you did try to talk them down, what then? Likely your only reward would be that they attacked you first. Not that it would matter. But you'd rather make this fast and efficient.

You stride through the crowd, parting them like water. The polite facade you use during the day is gone. This is a a conflict you understand, and a method of resolution with which you're initimately familiar.

Before the thugs even notice your approach, your arm is already coiling back to strike. Chi surges from your chakras, the old dusty pathways flaring to life, tempering the bones and flesh of your fist. You strike the closest thug with a powerful right hook that sends him spiraling through the air and into a table, which breaks under the impact.

A sudden, shocked silence surrounds you for a moment before the room bursts into chaos.

Two more men lunge at you, not knowing or caring of your identity. A swift knife-edged jab under the ribs incapacitates one, while the other you use his momentum against him in a throw that sends him flying into a stone column. There's three more behind those two, and more coming from the back.

Half the spectators around you have fled, while the others have gathered to watch this extra bonus battle. Out of the corner of your eye you see betting tickets being exchanged, and you can't help but smirk at the irony of people betting on a fight against the bookies. Rajat watches with his mouth hanging open.

With a series of heavy and precise blows, you dismantle the remaining thugs with brutal efficiency, sending the last one flying off his feet with an uppercut. A mix of boos and cheers erupts from the impromptu spectator ring, but when you glare at them they are quickly silenced. Grabbing Rajat by the collar, you march him out of there like a mother tiger carrying her cub.

Passing through the textile worshop again, you finally get outside and into the cooler air of the night streets, still warm but not stifling like that cramped underground basement.

>>5682320

Once you're a good enough distance away, you stop in a secluded place to lay into Rajat for his stupidity. You've learned many insults and epithets over your years of travel, and you use many of them now.

"I'm sorry, Ram," Rajat says, still with fear on his face. "My family's debt, I thought if I won big--"

"No, you didn't think," you cut him off. "You hoped. Hope is dangerous. It will get you killed just as sure as a fist, or a cobra's poison. It would have got you killed, tonight, if this old man hadn't stepped in and put himself at risk for you." There was no risk directly, not from those thugs, but exposing yourself like this could potentially have serious consequences. There's a whole world out there you've been avoiding, a world of killers and demons. Anything you do that draws attention to yourself is a chance that the old world takes notice of you again, and reaches out to drag you back in.

"It's true ... I owe you something I can't repay. But can I ask, where did you learn how to do that?" Rajat's fear changes all too quickly to the same look he had when he was watching the fighters in the pit.

"A long story," you say. "One I don't feel like telling. Now shut up and let me think for a moment."

The kid needs to get out of town. You can handle the thugs' friends if they come for you, but Rajat can't, and he also needs to avoid this blowing back on his family. If he lays low somewhere else in India for a few months, the betting ring will have more important things to worry about than some kid who couldn't pay up at the fight pit, and he should be able to slink back.

That's assuming you're willing to expend any more effort on this little shit.

>Cut him loose. You've already risked enough for him, what happens next is his problem.
>Make sure he gets on a bus. If he doesn't take your warning and stays in town, it won't go well.
>Lay low for now. Find a 24/7 diner and get something to eat while you figure out what to do.

>>5682321
>>Make sure he gets on a bus. If he doesn't take your warning and stays in town, it won't go well.

>>5682321
>Get on a bus

You don't just beat up several men to let him die in two days.

>>5682321
>Make sure he gets on a bus. If he doesn't take your warning and stays in town, it won't go well.

>>5682321
>Make sure he gets on a bus. If he doesn't take your warning and stays in town, it won't go well.

>>5682321
>Make sure he gets on a bus. If he doesn't take your warning and stays in town, it won't go well.

>>5682321
>Lay low for now. Find a 24/7 diner and get something to eat while you figure out what to do.

>>5682321
>Cut him loose. You've already risked enough for him, what happens next is his problem.

If he doesn't listen to us when we tell him to get on the next bus out of town, there's legitimately no helping him.

>>5682321
>Make sure he gets on a bus. If he doesn't take your warning and stays in town, it won't go well.

>>5682321

You didn't just beat up half a dozen criminals and possibly expose yourself just to give this kid one last opportunity to make a mistake and get himself killed. "First bus out of town," you say, pushing Rajat in the direction of the terminal. "Move."

"But--" Rajat protests.

"No buts. Move."

"I have to tell my family--"

"You want to go back home? Show them where you live? Show them where to find your mom and your sister? What do you think will happen to them if you split town and they're still here? You'll return to find them working off your debt in the--" You stop before you finish the sentence. You can see by the dawning fear in his eyes that you already got through to him. "You will not pack. You will not talk to anyone to tell them where you're going. You are going to get on a bus out of town. Once you get to wherever you're going, somewhere on the other side of the country, you can phone your family to let them know you're okay, but don't tell them where you are. Then nobody knows you for six months, at least."

You stand tall over Rajat, glowering down at him. "You owe me for saving you. Repay me by not fucking this up."

"I understand," Rajat says. Maybe he does. Maybe.

It's late at night by the time you get to the bus station, an almost deserted waiting zone of artificial lights, wooden benches with faded paint, and empty parking spots. When you approach the counter, Rajat looks helplessly at you. Of course. He spent all his money on the tickets he couldn't afford. Sighing, you pull out several day's pay from your wallet. It's enough for a bus ticket a few towns away, and a slot in a bunkhouse for a few days.

You watch as the kid gets on the bus, and wait until it pulls out of the station and disappears into the city.

You're left standing alone, under the harsh, flickering lights. You feel a strange mix of relief and some other unidentifiable emotion.

>>5682921

The station is strangely empty, even for this hour of night. With one major exception. Someone is approaching from behind you. Sensing their presence sets you on edge with a rising tension. The sound of approaching footsteps echoes through the station. A woman's shoes. A familiar step, precise and measured.

Turning around, you're unsurprised to recognize Li Wei standing there, dressed in a finely tailored suit. It's been fifteen years since you saw her, but unlike you, age has treated her well. And the look of cool professionalism is the same one you remember.

"Mr. Ramesh Khan," she says, breaking the silence. The Chinese accent you remember is buried under polished layers of control -- another change. "It's been a while."

"Li Wei," you growl, half a greeting, half a threat.

"It's good to see you, Ram," she says. "But as I'm sure you can guess, this isn't a personal visit."

"What does the Circle want with me?" you say, warily watching the other exits of the room, searching for anyone else coming in. You're expecting assassins to step through those doors any second now. The successor to Jason Carter has finally decided that you're too dangerous to be left alive. You're a loose end, about to be tied up. "I've lived quietly. I've done nothing to interfere. Just leave me alone."

"The new employer has not put out a target order on you, Ram," Li Wei says. "In fact, well ..."

Li Wei holds her hands up, open, then slowly with one hand reaches into her suit pocket and withdraws something. A familiar-looking card. An invitation.

It's not until that moment that hits you. The other reason why your old handler might be seeking you out.

It's been fifteen years since your last tournament. The Kumite is held every five years. It's happening again, right now, at this moment. And they want you.

>Refuse, cold as stone. This is a world you left behind, it has nothing to do with you anymore.
>Your anger is a heat slowly rising. How dare they violate your self-exile?
>You sense a long-dormant hunger inside yourself. A forgotten need to prove something.

>>5682922
>Your anger is a heat slowly rising. How dare they violate your self-exile?
Let that passion burn!

>>5682922
>Refuse, cold as stone. This is a world you left behind, it has nothing to do with you anymore.

>>5682922
>Your anger is a heat slowly rising. How dare they violate your self-exile?
Been a shitty day.

>>5682922
I admit I never bet on anything, but I thought when you purchase a betting ticket that's your bet and you don't have to pay anything else if you lose.

>Your anger is a heat slowly rising. How dare they violate your self-exile?

>>5682922
>Anger slowly rises

The fire rises

>>5682922
>Your anger is a heat slowly rising. How dare they violate your self-exile?
They come here and drop this shit on us? Come on.

>>5682922
>Your anger is a heat slowly rising. How dare they violate your self-exile?

>>5682922

You can feel the heat rising in your stomach, a slowly boiling anger like a volcano preparing to erupt. The air is too thick around you. Your vision darkens. How dare they? You haven't felt this furious in years. Your self-exile was your last measure of defiance, your final say in the matter. You thought the Circle had respected and honored it. Turns out they were simply waiting for the right moment to tear it all apart.

You were supposed to be finished. No more fighting. No more killing. You buried the past deep below the earth. And here Li Wei is with that impassive expression on her face, digging it all up again right in front of you.

The fire inside you roars, demanding release. You can feel the burning tension in your fists and shoulders. Part of you knows exactly what it wants. Stride right up to your former handler and show her the exact level of violence you've been suppressing this entire time.

But you can't. Not to her. This is the woman who was with you fifteen years ago. She's the one who guided and protected you, when Jason Carter either refused or was unable to. Not just during the tournament, but afterwards, when everything fell apart. This is the one person who you can't do this to.

And the Circle knows that, you realize, which is exactly why they sent her, alone. If bodyguards and assassins were jumping out of the shadows right now in response to your anger, they'd be dead in a heartbeat. Instead it's just Li Wei standing there, looking as though she hasn't aged a day in fifteen years, calm and composed in the face of your rage.

>Although you'll refrain from violence, you don't hesitate to confront Li Wei and tell her exactly how you feel about this intrusion.
>Allow your rising anger to subside into a slow boiling smolder. Start forming a plan to keep your retirement intact.
>You need more information. Try to figure out just what it is that the Circle of Shadows wants from you now.

>>5683313
>Although you'll refrain from violence, you don't hesitate to confront Li Wei and tell her exactly how you feel about this intrusion.
I get the feeling this has been a long time coming. Sometimes you can't help but feel some resentment towards people, even when you know they've been good to you.

>>5683313
>Although you'll refrain from violence, you don't hesitate to confront Li Wei and tell her exactly how you feel about this intrusion.

>>5683313
>Although you'll refrain from violence, you don't hesitate to confront Li Wei and tell her exactly how you feel about this intrusion.

>>5683313
>Allow your rising anger to subside into a slow boiling smolder. Start forming a plan to keep your retirement intact.

Anger is what they want. The heat. The reignition of the volcano. Stay cool. Don't give it to them.

>>5683313

The noise of the city fades into the background as you lock your gaze on your former handler. The anger burning in your chest becomes directed and focused. You stride towards Li Wei, your footsteps heavy on the worn out tiles.

The movement attracts notice from the few other patrons in the bus station. A man of your size, moving with purpose, it draws attention, and not the good kind. You don't care.

You stop just a few feet in front of Li Wei, glowering down at her. She returns your gaze, her expression cool and unreadable as ever. It's the look of someone who knows that for all your bluster and steam, you won't hurt her. The same look she used to give you back then. The familiarity of it all only intensifies your anger.

"I'm done," you say flatly, keeping the anger in your voice under control for now. "I'm out. It's over. This is a violation of what little I have left in my life, which is my privacy and solitude. The champion is dead. He died fifteen years ago, in America. You're talking to an ordinary citizen who has nothing to do with fighting tournaments, martial arts, or anything at all."

"Is that so?" Li Wei looks you up and down. "You're certainly in good condition for a construction worker. My congratulations on beating the weathering of age." You didn't tell her that you were a construction worker, but it doesn't surprise you that she knows. The handlers always do their homework, and thoroughly. She probably knows more about your current life and health than you do.

"Why are you doing this?" you demand. "Why now, after all these years?"

"As always, I'm only here to represent the interests of the tournament organizer," Li Wei says.

"And the organizer? It's the same man who took over from the previous boss, is it?" Her nod confirms this. "What does this Yang want from me? He's a schemer, isn't he? How do I fit into this master plan of his?"

"He is a devious man," Li Wei admits. "If this is part of some greater scheme, if he has some greater purpose for inviting you beyond your skill, it's not one I'm privy to."

"Would you admit it if you were?" you ask.

Li Wei only gives you a resigned smile.

You know from experience that the handlers can only be trusted to a certain extent. They are cunning, deceitful manipulators, always putting the organization's interests first. They rarely lie directly, and they always devote themselves to their role of providing support for a fighter. But all that comes second to acting as an agent for the tournament's owner. The person in that position used to be Jason Carter. Now it's the man who took over from him, Han Yang, who you don't know or trust. Even if Li Wei tells you this is merely an invitation to a respected martial arts veteran, can you believe her words?

>>5683544

"You don't have to answer right away," Li Wei says. "Take some time to think about it."

"I've already made up my mind. I never want to see you, or anyone connected with the tournament, ever again." You extend your hand. "Now give me that invitation so I can burn it into ash."

"No, I don't think I will," Li Wei says. She tucks the invitation card back into her pocket. "I'll come to see you again soon. Until then, think it over. You might be surprised at what you decide." It's exactly like you were thinking about just now. Always the manipulator.

She turns to leave, hesitates, and adds, "It's good to see you again, Ram."

"I wish I could say the same," you growl.

"I understand. I just wanted you to know. I'm glad you're all right."

"I wouldn't go that far," you say. "I'm alive. But that's enough."

Li Wei leaves you alone in the station, the center of awkward attention from bystanders. Scowling, you turn and walk away in the opposite direction as her.

You have to find some way to vent this rage.

>Take a trip out to your old training grounds in the jungle, where you can unleash your power without fear of collateral damage.
>Go find the criminals you beat up earlier tonight, and beat them up a second time.
>Just go for a long walk around the city. Violence can't help you avoid violence.

>>5683545
>Just go for a long walk around the city. Violence can't help you avoid violence.
Maybe we'll find some advice

>>5683545
>>Take a trip out to your old training grounds in the jungle, where you can unleash your power without fear of collateral damage.
going back to our apartment right away probably isn't a good idea anyways

>>5683547
You ever play any of the Yakuza games?

>>5683545
>Just go for a long walk around the city. Violence can't help you avoid violence.

>>5683554
Was going to vote for the old training grounds, but actually a Yakuza substory sounds perfect right about now. Fuck your plotline, let Ram mentor a street musician on how to woo his love using shadow puppets or something.

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413 KB JPG

>>5683557
I was hinting at the fact that there's thugs around every corner in the city and Ram probably has a price on his head now.
But now that I think about it, the Kiryu method of just demolishing anybody stupid enough to fuck with us should work out eventually.
With that in mind...
>>5683550
>>5683545
>Just go for a long walk around the city. Violence can't help you avoid violence.
Changing my vote to this. Let them come as they may.

>>5683545
>Just go for a long walk around the city. Violence can't help you avoid violence.

>>5683545
>Just go for a long walk around the city. Violence can't help you avoid violence.

>>5683545
>Go for a long walk

>>5683545

You decide to go for a long walk around the city, try to clear your head in the night air. You're trying to escape a life of violence, the solution can't be more violence, right? You spend some time wandering the streets with no clear destination in mind, seeing the familiar sights of the city. Even at this hour, Mumbai is lit up in the gold of street lights under the dark blue of night just starting to fade into dawn, the streets hum with chaotic traffic, and the sidewalks are crowded with people hanging out or passing by.

On your wandering, you encounter a strange sight. A group of street food vendors in a small area have all left their carts and are gathered in a tight circle facing inwards, angrily shouting and grabbing at something. As you watch, one of them suddenly falls over, and the others break apart from the circle, chasing something low to the ground. That's when you see the object of their pursuit: a small stray dog, thin but agile, darting away with a huge chunk of meat held tightly in its mouth. The dog swiftly dodges each attempt to catch it, until finally it makes a break for it and sprints right past you. Your huge frame standing there is more of an obstacle to the vendors than the dog, who find themselves unable to pursue with you in the way.

"Well, that's just great!" One of them complains, gesturing angrily at you. "He got away again, thanks to this ogre."

Your brow furrows at the insult. "It's just one piece of meat, what's the big deal? Let the little guy have a good meal for a change."

"You don't understand," one of the other food stall merchants says, exasparated. "That little thief has been terrorizing our stands for weeks! Every day he comes back and steals more food, and nothing we do can stop him!"

"We've tried catching or trapping him," adds a third vendor. "But nothing works. That devil is making our lives hell! Just now we finally had our best chance of catching him, and he got away because of you! How are you going to take responsibility for this?"

This is taking a bizarre turn. How is this your problem? You start to protest, but for some reason the group of street vendors is all ganging up on you to demand that you catch the dog yourself.

Well, it's not like you have anything better to do right now. Maybe this will be what you need to get your mind off things. Besides, how hard could it be to catch one small dog?

>>5683638

Soon you're cursing yourself for asking that question. The dog is clearly a wily survivor of many years on the streets, and knows all kinds of tricks and routes to throw off pursuit in the city. It runs through a maze of alleys, a busy market, even an old playground, always one step out of reach.

Finally, you corner the small stray dog in a dead-end alley. Unfortunately, there's also a group of local ruffians loitering in here, and before you can head in there, one of the thugs has grabbed up the dog. "Hey, look at this! Perfect for training meat. We throw this little guy to the fighting dogs, they'll tear him to shreds. Build up that killer instinct for the pits."

Something in you can't stand the thought of the stray dog suffering such a fate. You stride into the alley, cracking the knuckles of one hand as you prepare your fists.

The thugs notice your approach and spread out, looking you up and down with disdainful glances. One of them steps in front of the others. "Hey, old man! Looks like you got -- oof!" You don't bother to let him finish, just hit him with a punch to the gut.

It doesn't take much to take on these punks. There's five of them and one of you, but their weak muscles can't hurt you, their gutless cowardice doesn't scare you. A swift series of brutal punches, elbows, and knees bruise flesh and break bones. You go easy on the thugs -- just one broken limb for each of them. Then you shove them away with your foot and tell them to get lost.

The dog is still there, eyeing you with fear. It must have lost the piece of meat somewhere along the way. Noticing that makes you realize that there's a different strategy you could take here. Instead of chasing after him, you crouch down and take out a packet of snack crackers you were carrying, open it, and hold one out. The dog hesitates, but eventually hunger wins out over caution, and it trots over to eat the cracker in your hand. You feed it the rest of the packet of crackers, a gesture of kindness that seems to ingratiate you to the extent it allows you to pick it up.

You get directions to a local animal shelter and drop off the dog. It costs money, you find out, to bring an animal to a shelter, for cleaning and for shots; you hand over the last of the money in your wallet, ensuring the dog will be looked after.

Exiting the animal shelter and looking at your empty wallet, you let out a sigh. That was a waste of time, and you even lost money in the end. Maybe you learned something?

>This was a lesson about how all living things, great and small, have to fight to survive in their own way.
>This was a lesson about finding connections or comrades in unlikely places, and how we all have to look out for each other.
>No, it's just a dog, who cares.

>>5683639
>No, it's just a dog, who cares.

>>5683639
>This was a lesson about how all living things, great and small, have to fight to survive in their own way.

>>5683639
>This was a lesson about saying "no" to weird strangers in the street

>>5683639
>This was a lesson about how all living things, great and small, have to fight to survive in their own way.

>>5683639
>This was a lesson about how all living things, great and small, have to fight to survive in their own way.

>>5683639
>This was a lesson about how all living things, great and small, have to fight to survive in their own way.

>>5683639
>All things must fight to survive.

Sometimes, evidently, a helping hand will be given

>>5683639

Maybe there's some kind of lesson here. Everyone has to fight to survive, even little guys like that dog. Something like that. All you know for sure is that you're broke, you're tired, and it's daylight. At least you don't have work today, and you can go home and get some rest.

You walk away from the animal shelter, considering the past. Time was, you weren't so different from that dog. As an kid, you had to fight to survive on these streets. You grew up alone, with nobody on your side, and the gangs took advantage of that whenever they found you, both the dogpacks of smaller orphans and the larger ones of young adults. You were always alone.

Then one day, someone powerful gave you a helping hand, and you started a new path.

That's when your journey into martial arts started. You were Jason Carter's pet project, in a sense. He saw the potential in you and was determined to make it into reality. At his direction, you underwent harsh training under many masters, but you understood its purpose. You were forging yourself into something new. More than a man. A weapon, for the one who had raised you from nothing.

It was something you did willingly. It made you more than what you were, shaped you into something you could be proud of. And Mr. Carter's vision was one that resonated with you. A world where the strong weren't kept back by the weak banding together to drag them down. A world where each man had to fight with his own strength, a nation unto himself. You chose to ally yourself with Carter, but it was your own decision. He was the strongest man you knew, and the best way to become stronger was to learn from him.

You did everything that Carter asked of you, and gladly, as it gave you a chance to prove yourself stronger than any adversary beyond the man himself. You accomplished every task in front of you, challenged and defeated every obstacle. Perhaps someday you would challenge Carter yourself, but until that day came, he would have your loyalty.

And then, when he needed you most ...

What good is a weapon if it breaks at the critical moment?

The memories you've been trying to keep at bay are flooding in. You can't hold the barrier any longer. The water comes crashing in, and you're drowning.

>>5684260

Miami, USA
197X
15 years ago

Pouring rain beats against the glass walls of the penthouse office, driven by the ceaseless wind. Far below lies the city of Miami, oblivious to the conflict unfolding within this tower.

You're standing behind and to the side of Mr. Carter, who's seated in a luxurious armchair with a lit cigar in hand. His fighting aura, ever-present, lies low; he conserves his strength with the focused patience of a waiting predator.

A dozen of his elite fighters, hand-picked men, lurk in the wings of the large office. Their eyes are fixed on the far side of the room. Over there, on that wall, is the door of the emergency stairway. With the elevators disabled, it's the only way up here.

Somewhere on the lower floors, a battle is being fought, or perhaps has already ended. When the last communication came from down there, the forces stationed down there had thrown the last of their reserve fighters into the fray. Nothing has been heard from them since.

It seems impossible to believe that just two people are responsible for this. And yet this is the reality. Over the past few weeks, these two have systematically dismantled Jason Carter's criminal empire by the simple method of finding his various international headquarers and beating up every single person in them. They started internationally, and then came here, to America. Now they're here, in Carter's personal tower in Miami, fighting their way up one floor at a time.

Ling Chen, heiress of a respected martial sect. Max Hunter, self-taught wanderer. Two martial artists with different backgrounds, styles, and ways of life. In many ways, they couldn't be more different. But there were a few things they had in common. One was that they were both fighters in the Kumite. Another was they had both been friends of Daisuke Saito. And now, it seemed, there was a third thing to add to that list: they both wanted revenge.

Are they here for you, the man whose hand did the deed? For Jason Carter, who they surely know gave the order, to silence a man who had challenged his authority? Or is their enmity split equally between you? Perhaps you're about to find out.

The fortified door to the emergency stairwell is rated to stand up against explosives, but a fire-fueled kick from Max Hunter sends it flying inwards with a heavy dent in the metal. Max and Ling enter the room, spreading out a little as they both slowly advance in your direction.

>Position yourself between Mr. Carter and the intruders. Even if you have regrets, you will carry out your duty.
>For now, remain silent and observe. This confrontation is inevitable, born of a past you can't change.
>Despite the danger, or perhaps because of it, you can feel your heart racing with excitement, and your inner flame burning like never before.

>>5684267
>Position yourself between Mr. Carter and the intruders. Even if you have regrets, you will carry out your duty.

>>5684267
>For now, remain silent and observe. This confrontation is inevitable, born of a past you can't change.

>>5684267
>Despite the danger, or maybe because, Our flame is burning brighter than ever.

Every man a nation. Carter is stronger than us, he doesn't need us to slow them down. Just attack with him.

>>5684267
>Despite the danger, or perhaps because of it, you can feel your heart racing with excitement, and your inner flame burning like never before.

>>5684267
>Position yourself between Mr. Carter and the intruders. Even if you have regrets, you will carry out your duty.

>>5684267
>>Despite the danger, or perhaps because of it, you can feel your heart racing with excitement, and your inner flame burning like never before.

>>5684267
>Despite the danger, or perhaps because of it, you can feel your heart racing with excitement, and your inner flame burning like never before.

>>5684267

Despite the danger, or perhaps because of it, you can feel your heart racing with excitement. This is a true fight, even more worthy than the grand stage of the Kumite. This will be a legendary battle.

The elite fighters in the wings of the room step forward and approach. Their formation forms a circle, deliberately spacing themselves to cut off any avenues of escape. None are necessary. Without hesitating or even looking at each other communicate an unspoken signal, Max and Ling take coordinated action, dividing up the disciples to each take half and launching their own assaults before the ring closes in. You've seen their techniques before, used in the Kumite, but they seem to have ascended to a level beyond what you witnessed during the tournament. The fire of combat has forged and tempered them beyond what they were.

It doesn't take long. Twelve men, all elite disciples in their fields, against two. You don't think that any of them even manage to land a blow.

The two fighters approach the desk. There's only the four of you left, now. Every ally, every asset that Jason Carter had to protect himself from vengeance has been stripped away. Only one last line of defense remains. You.

For a moment, nothing moves. The only sound is the beating of rain on the windows. The silence is broken when Carter speaks, after breathing out a cloud of cigar smoke. "You've done well to come here," he says. "How would you consider joining my organization? You could be my right hands, second only to Khan here."

"Heh! Dream on, pal." Max Hunter, relaxed as ever, even going into a confrontation like this. He looks up you from under the brim of his distinctive red ballcap. "You think we've come this far just to sign up to be your goons? Think again."

"It was you who gave the order, wasn't it, Carter?" Ling's voice is determined, but quavers with emotion for a moment. "Your tame tiger standing there behind you might have carried it out, but it was your decision!"

"You were scared of Daisuke, weren't you?" Max says. "Too many people liked and respected him. He spoke too often about about honor and what's right. About how a tournament like the Kumite shouldn't be involved with a criminal like you as its head. And you couldn't have that. So you got rid of him, thinking it was the most convenient thing to do. Turns out you were wrong. It was the biggest mistake of your life."

>>5685882

Ling looks you right in the eye. She's searching you for something. "Did he force you to do it?" she asks. "Did you have a choice?"

"There is always a choice," you say. You draw yourself up to full height and look down at your opponent. "I made my decisions. They brought us here. None of them can be changed."

Ling sets her face as she hardens her resolve. "Then there's nothing more to say."

You can feel the killing intent building from both of them, a wall of pressure from their spirits as they prepare themselves to face their true enemies.

A slight movement from Jason Carter, in your direction. A hand gesture, unmistakeable. Forward.

Your pride surges as you step in front of the desk and begin to approach your opponents. These two fighters have taken minor injuries over the course of their battle, but still possess most of their strength. Individually, you are confident you can beat them. Together, like this, with their battle spirits raised to an unknown height? You don't know. And that thrills you.

It's time to prove the strength of everything that you've become, the rule of every law that you've written for yourself.

You take the initiative with one of your offensive styles.

>Agni's Fire: Long-range strikes with the piercing power of flame
>Vajra's Fist: Devastating punches with the indestructible force of diamond
>Asura's Wrath: Aggressive charges with the ruthless rage of a demon

>>5685883
>Asura's Wrath: Aggressive charges with the ruthless rage of a demon
Speed

>>5685883
>Agni's Fire: Long-range strikes with the piercing power of flame

>>5685883
>Vajra's Fist: Devastating punches with the indestructible force of diamond

>>5685883
>Asura's Wrath: Aggressive charges with the ruthless rage of a demon

>>5685883
>Agni's Fire: Long-range strikes with the piercing power of flame

>>5685883
With the two of them here, I think we need a measn of attacking from any direction

>Agni's fire

>>5685883
>Vajra's Fist: Devastating punches with the indestructible force of diamond

>>5685883

With a size and reach advantage over most opponents, adding a burst of flame to a heavy straight or hook punch results in a long-range strike that impacts hard; an opponent who successfully blocks it will still find themselves driven back and on the defensive. It's a technique known as Agni's Fire, named for the god of flames, and you've trained long and hard to be able to fire off several in quick succession, or to put everything you've got into one powerful blow.

The style works well against Max Hunter. A muscular man of average height, Max has a lot of power in that frame, enough that in a contest of strength against strength he can match you. He uses fire-aspected energy, like you do, and though you hate to admit it, he's your equal in that aspect as well. But right now, your reach prevents him from using his offense to its full capacity. The fireblasts from your attacks hit his blocks hard, scorching his forearms and forcing him back.

However, when you turn your attention to Ling Chen, she uses her smaller size to her advantage, and demonstrates her aerial agility by leaping up and over your attacks. She stomps you in the face, a quick one-two with both feet that also gives her enough momentum to boost herself airwards again. Your uppercut counterattack strikes nothing but air as she sails overhead, but you turn just in time to defend yourself from her attack from the rear. She sticks her tongue out at you for a moment before stepping back.

She's waiting, you realize, for Max to attack. His attack is coming, just as your concentration has been focused on Ling. When you move to block it, Ling will strike again. A simultaneous assault, from both sides. Simple to deal with. Sending energy surging into your throat chakra, you let out a forceful shout that generates a spherical shockwave exploding outwards. Rudra's Roar. Both your opponents are knocked off their feet by the expanding force wave, but land in a recovery position and resume the attack without hesitation.

"Not bad," Max says. His fiery knuckles slam in your block over and over. "Guess you're the champ for a reason."

"Why couldn't you just win the regular way? Was it really because of that creep's order?" Ling's overhead kick comes in fast. You block it, and drive forward to counter-strike, but she spins gracefully out of the way and lands a series of rapid low kicks that send pain shooting through your legs. "Maybe you hated Daisuke yourself? Or maybe ... maybe you felt like you couldn't win unless you went all out. Was that it, Khan? Scared that Daisuke would beat you, unless you threw away your honor?"

That's the first thing anyone has said to you in a long time that makes you angry. The heat in your blood rises. The magma lake in your stomach chakra is roiling. Your heart beats like a war drum.

>>5688981

You say, "I didn't need to fight at full strength to kill your friend."

The fire inside you erupts. The chi in your body ignites the surrounding air in a burst of flame. The light reflects in the windows of the penthouse, turning the entire office into a hellish battleground. Papers and decorations catch fire, casting dancing shadows across the room.

"You've never seen my real power before," you say. "Today, you will."

>Brahmastra: A concentrated laser-like blast of destruction, named for the weapon that destroys the universe.
>Agni's Inferno: An aura of flame that enhances all your attacks and damages anyone who dares approach you.
>Indra's Thunderstorm: Turn your fists hard as diamond and unleash a killer combination, each blow with the strength of a striking thunderbolt.

>>5688982
>Agni's inferno
Best of both worlds

>>5688982
>Indra's Thunderstorm

>>5688982
>Brahmastra: A concentrated laser-like blast of destruction, named for the weapon that destroys the universe.
Beam!

>>5688982
>Agni's Inferno: An aura of flame that enhances all your attacks and damages anyone who dares approach you.

>>5688982
>Agni's Inferno: An aura of flame that enhances all your attacks and damages anyone who dares approach you.

>>5688982
>Agni's Inferno: An aura of flame that enhances all your attacks and damages anyone who dares approach you.

>>5688982

The fire emanating from you, igniting the very air around you, doesn't die out. Instead it focuses, condenses, transforms. An aura of flames, rising from you like divine heat. It focuses on your hands and arms, vambraces made of coiled and writhing fire.

Max and Ling are forced back a step by the waves of heat emanating from you. The more delicate Ling has to shield herself with energy, while Max, tougher and more used to the heat of fire from his own arts, holds his ground. "This is your Secret Art, is it?" he says, squinting into the brightness. "You must have had this in your back pocket the whole time, didn't even need to use it in the tournament. Gotta admit, I'm impressed. Let's see if it's as strong as it looks!"

Max concentrates his chi into a sphere, and fires off a ball of flames at you. You swat the fireball aside like an annoying insect, and it goes crashing into the ceiling, bits of crumbling debris raining down.

Ling Chen darts in and unleashes one of her sect's techniques, the Thousand Point Kicks. Her legs move in a lightning-fast blur, an artwork of devastating precision and speed. Her attacks slip past your block. But you feel no pain. A huge flame-empowered haymaker sends her flying, crashing into a support pillar, leaving a cracked crater in the stone, and falling to the ground.

This opens you to another attack from the relentless Max Hunter, who drives a powerful fist engulfed in burning energy right into your side. Ribs snap. You stumble backwards, your legs hitting a glass table, and you fall backwards into it, the glass shattering on impact.

>>5689463

You feel no pain. You get to your feet, ignoring your body's protests. Blood leaks from the glass shards in your back; it's so hot your blood sizzles and smokes when it hits the open air.

The penthouse is fully ablaze now. The heat would be unbearable to a normal man. The figures of Max and Ling are silhouetted by the fire as they advance on you.

"Just hold on, Max," Ling Chen says. She's sweating and breathing heavily in the heat, but stands firm. "He has to run out of energy soon, he can't keep this up forever!"

"You're wrong!" You laugh as you swing your arm, sending a wave of flame towards Ling that she barely dodges. "My energy runs deeper than the roots of the mountain!" You lunge forward and attack again. Your fist crashes through a support pillar, sending fragments of stone flying. " I am the bottomless ocean of fire, the heart of the world itself!"

Even in this tumult, Ling and Max are able to share an unspoken understanding. You sense their desperation turn into resolve. Both their energies rise to match yours. "We were hoping to hold onto these for your boss," Max says with a cocky grin. "But it turns out you're a tough son of a bitch."

"We would have honored you as champion, if you hadn't taken this path," Ling says. "Instead you chose this. We won't hold back against you." Her aura strengths and solidifies. You can see energy building around her in a hexagonal shape, a geometric diagram of interlinked lines and calligraphy characters.

"You must have known that we have our own secret arts, right?" Max says. Fire builds around his aura, a flickering and explosive flame compared to your slow and intense roil. "Want to find out whose is the strongest?"

You don't hestitate. In fact, you're smiling as you stride forward, preparing to detonate your fiery aura. This is a climactic showdown of everything the three of you have built yourself into: power, speed, technique, and will. This is a clash of legends, a contest of arts at the pinnacle of the way of strength, a final battle the likes of which the world hasn't seen for a long time, and may never seen again.

The three of you move as one.

[AGNI'S INFERNO]

[EIGHT ETERNAL KICKS]

[BLASTER BURN]

>>5689465

The wave of destruction from the clashing secret arts causes complete chaos. You're vaguely aware of crashing straight through a wall into another room, stone and mortar collapsing into dust. You shake off your disorientation and stagger back to your feet, realizing only one thing: your enemy, Max Hunter is front of you, also standing up at the same time.

You swing your fist.

Max doesn't move a muscle, standing there like a statue.

Something warns you that this is wrong. Some sign is noticed subconsciously. Your fist stops an inch from Max's chest. You both stand facing each other, eyes locked, breathing heavily.

A motion comes from behind Max. A sound: the ragged breaths of fear. You look over Max's shoulder to see him. A boy of about eight years old, eyes wide in terror. It must be him. Jason Carter's son. His name escapes you at the moment. You had little contact with the boy and don't recognize him, but who else could it be, here, now?

If Max had dodged, your strike would have hit the boy instead.

Your eyes meet Max's again. An unspoken challenge passes between you. It's as though he's daring you to decide. Make the attack or withdraw. Prove who you really are, one way or the other.

You can't move. Part of you urges you to make the strike. To discard conscience, to scorn weakness. To hold back is a betrayal of your ideas.

And yet ... you don't know if you can. Not because this is Jason Carter's son. Not because of any concerns for your reputation. But for the deed itself. Daisuke Saito was an adult who understood the risks. This is different. Killing a boy, just for being in the way ... is it something that you're willing to do? Is this moment of weakness the final extent of your commitment to strength?

It was then, at the critical moment of decision that would change everything, that something crashed into your skull from behind, and the world went black.

>>5689467


Mumbai, India
199X
Now


Everything that happened after that moment would remain hazy. Chi circulation would heal your wounds but not restore your memories. However, over time, the results became clear.

Jason Carter was missing, presumed dead. His tower burned to the ground, a smoldering ruin. His criminal empire dispersed and scattered, and in time, each smaller group was absorbed by their competitors, leaving barely a trace of their former existence.

Another man, a high-ranking official in the Kumite organization and leader of his own criminal syndicate, took over management of the tournament. He continued to use it for his own purposes behind the scenes, in the same way that Jason Carter had. The Kumite continued to be held every five years, and its fighters continued to be used as assassins, mercenaries, and bodyguards.

Max Hunter returned to his life wandering the back roads of America. A few years later, a rumor passed around that he had adopted a son, who was travelling with him. The boy was about the right age. It had to be him.

You, much to your surprise and displeasure, somehow survived.

And now you're here.

>It was a glorious battle. You have nothing to be ashamed of.
>It was a failure. You lost, your master was killed, and his empire was destroyed.
>It was a turning point. You could no longer be the man you once were.

>>5689468
>It was a glorious battle. You have nothing to be ashamed of.

>>5689468
>t was a glorious battle. You have nothing to be ashamed of.

>>5689468
>It was a turning point. You could no longer be the man you once were.

>>5689468
>It was a turning point. You could no longer be the man you once were.

>>5689468
>It was a turning point.

We found the limits of our resolve.

>>5689468
>It was a turning point. You could no longer be the man you once were.

>>5689468

It was a turning point. You could no longer be the man you once were.

That defeat didn't just break your body, but your spirit and confidence as well. Everything you had built over the years had crumbled, including your own image of invicibility. The unbeaten warrior was beaten. The weapon forged to perfection was flawed. Your patron was dead and your resolve was shattered. You had nothing.

Not sure what else to do, you returned to India. Once here, you struck out into the jungle, retreating from everything and everyone. You spent a long time out there, just surviving. You didn't find anything, no grand revelation or epiphany, but you at least had solitude to start piercing yourself back together.

The man who came out of that jungle was not the man you had once been. The blaze that once raged freely was now hidden under a thick layer of hardened lava, ash, and soot, a blackened landscape that held an endless heat. The fire was as bottomless as the magma of the earth, and could never be quenched. But it could be allowed to settle, and to wait, deep down below. It had the patience of eons, turning slowly with the world.

Since then, nothing much. Getting by on odd jobs. Moving from one hole in the wall to another. Summer became the rainy season, which became winter. A cycle fifteen times completed.

You were prepared to continue this cycle until the end of your days. You thought that the lake of fire would never erupt again.

But something's awakened inside you, now, tonight. Far below the layers of choking ash, a heat is rising.

What caused this? Was it fighting off those criminals who were about to harm your co-worker Rajat? Was it seeing that young buck, Arjun Thakur, the first worthy opponent you've found in years? Or was it seeing that invitation card in Li Wei's hand?

You don't know. But it's forcing you to confront the truth.

It's time to decide. Not just a cursory denial, the words of a haunted man still trying to escape his past. But the truth. A real answer.

>You accept. To overcome the past, and build a new future. No more unfinished business.
>You accept. To return the arena, the only place you've ever really known.
>You refuse. How dare these dogs bark at a tiger? You will not be manipulated.
>You refuse. You're done with that life. It's not who you are anymore.

>>5691299
>You refuse. How dare these dogs bark at a tiger? You will not be manipulated.
Pride

>>5691299
>You accept. To return the arena, the only place you've ever really known.

>>5691299
>You refuse. How dare these dogs bark at a tiger? You will not be manipulated.

>>5691299
>You accept. To overcome the past, and build a new future. No more unfinished business.
Our story has not ended. Time to fight for ourselves and not any patron

>>5691299
>You Refuse. How dare these dogs bark at a Tiger.

We were the grand champion. Who are they to try and force the issue?

>>5691299
>You refuse. How dare these dogs bark at a tiger? You will not be manipulated.

>>5691299

You investigate the truth of your earlier feelings, and confirm them. Your first reaction was right.

How dare these dogs bark at a tiger? Who are they to force the issue? You are a champion. You will not be manipulated.

You refuse to have anything to do with this.

If you see Li Wei again, you'll take that invitation card from her and burn it to a cinder.

Scowling, you resume your journey back to your apartment. Maybe now you'll finally have a chance to get some rest.

The day passes uneventfully. Another hot summer day in Mumbai, enduring the heat and the noise of traffic. You spend the day feeling restless in your apartment, trying to sleep, but don't have much success until the cooler night comes.

It feels like hardly any time has passed at all before it's dawn again, and you're trudging off to work once more.

At the construction site, you don't see any sign of Rajat. Maybe the kid will actually take your advice and lay low out of town for a few months. You can only hope. That's all the thought you can spare for him, as your day gets occupied with another onslaught of ceaseless labor.

Lift this. Haul that. Work this jackhammer. Pull this rope. Your body, once forged into a living weapon, put to use once more for nothing but drudgery and toil.

Work drags on and on, until after what feels like an eternity, the whistle goes to signal the end of the shift. Mentally numb from the exertion, you shove your way to the front of the pack to get handed your day's wages, and immediately leave, ignoring the protests coming from behind. You just need to get out of here.

This is all there is to life anymore. One day of toil after another. Day after day, just getting by, barely enough for food and shelter. Never to use your talents or training. Never to hear the roars of the crowd. Never to stand with pride as the winner of a contest of strength. All of it forgotten. Smoke and ash.

As you stride forward down the sidewalk, people are giving you frightened looks and hurrying to step out of your way. You must look terrifying right now. You couldn't care less what they think.

The reality is, you couldn't pretend to be calm if you tried. It's all you can do to keep your aura from exploding into flames right now.

You don't know what's happened to make you like this. Are you this angry at being provoked by Han Yang, at having your solitude disturbed? Is it just the wear and tear of fifteen years as a mundane laborer? Or is it something else?

Could have you made the wrong decision?

You shake off those thoughts. You've made your choice and you'll stand by it. Those dogs don't deserve this tiger's respect. Let them bark.

Your stomach growls. Maybe that's all it is. You're hungry after a tough day's work. Once you get some food, this will all blow over.

>>5691916

Your route home takes you through a busy market, narrow alleys full of all kinds of goods from the strange to the mundane: fresh fruits, fashionable clothes, cheap jewelry, pyramids of spice powders, electronics, silk rugs, just about anything in the city can be found here. Right now, however, what concerns you is the stall selling vada pav, also called the Bombay Burger: a deep fried potato dumpling in a bread bun. It's the city's most popular street food, and your personal favorite. One of the reasons you stick around in this place.

As you're standing in line, you get an odd feeling, like you're being watched. It's probably one of the Circle's spies. The handlers are always accompanied by stealth operatives who watch from the shadows, monitoring everything the prospective fighters do. You ignore it. Let them watch.

You buy a vada pav and a cup of tea, and sit down on a bench to eat. The bench has other people on it when you sit down, but they soon find reasons to be elsewhere. One benefit of looking scary, it's easy to get some privacy.

You're about to bite into your potato burger when you get the sensation of being watched again, but far stronger. This person isn't a stealth operative. They aren't bothering to hide themselves anymore. Your eyes scan the crowd, like searching a forest for camoflaged prey.

There. You're not surprised to see him. Now the only question is why he's here. There's a few reasons, some better than others. You don't like any of them.

Arjun Thakur, the "Tiger Claw." The man you saw easily defeat the fighting pit's champion. He walks right up to you, bold as brass, and stands in front of you with his arms folded, looking down at you. He has a look like he's trying to decide whether to be impressed or not.

"You're him, right?" he says. "The champion. Ram Khan."

"So what?" you growl. "If you're hoping for some free advice, I don't teach. If you want to raise your rep by scratching out a veteran, you won't find it so easy. Now beat it." There's a third option he might be here, now, in front of you, but you don't want it to be true.

"That's not why I'm here, old-timer," Arjun says. "Didn't she tell you about me? That woman?" He smacks one fist into his other palm, cracks knuckles hardened from years of intense practice. "I'm your opponent."

A sinking feeling comes over you as you realize your other hunch was right. He's not here for training or reputation. He was supposed to be your opponent in the Kumite, and he doesn't know -- or doesn't care -- that you refused the invitation.

"The rules say you have to fight anytime, anywhere, right?" Arjun says with a wicked grin. "Should I let you get a nice nap in first? Don't let anyone say I don't respect my elders."

>I didn't join the tournament. Your opponent will be someone else. Now leave.
>Kid, I'm having a bad day. You don't want to do this, or you're going to regret it.
>At least let me finish my burger here.

>>5691919
>At least let me finish my burger here.
Burger

>>5691919
>At least let me finish my burger here.

>>5691919
>At least let me finish my burger here.

>>5691919
>Let me finish my burger.

>>5691919

You let out a weary sigh. "Look, kid. I'm tired and hungry after working all day. I'm about to eat this vada pav. Let me finish this, and then we'll talk about who fights who."

"That burger right there?" Arjun says, pointing to the bun your hand. "Sure, go ahead. Why not?"

"Thanks," you say. Maybe there is some measure of respect in the new generation. You raise the burger towards your mouth

Then, just like that, the burger is gone. Too fast for you to react, Arjun snap kicks the burger out of your hands. The potato and bun are sent flying off into the sky, to land on some unfortunate soul elsewhere in the city. You look at the empty space between your hands, comprehending what's happened.

You didn't even get to take a single bite.

"As if I care about your stupid burger!" Arjun says with a sneer. "Why would I let you refresh your strength? Too scared to fight on an empty stomach?" He shifts down lower, adopting a fighting stance. "Hurry up and let's get started already. I need to put you down fast, so I can start thinking about the next round."

That fucking does it.

You explode out of a sitting position with an uppercut backed by every ember of frustration and rage in your body. Your fist connects with Arjun's chin and sends the boy flying, crashing into the crowd of passerbys, knocking down him and half a dozen other people. Shrieks go up and people scramble away.

You step forward, approaching Arjun as he gets back to his feet and shakes himsel off. "Kid, you sure you want to do this here?" you say, gesturing at the crowds of citizens. "We could find somewhere more isolated, away from all these people."

"Why should I care?" Arjun says, and spits out a tooth. "Don't tell me you're concerned what happens to them? Aren't you supposed to be a ruthless badass?"

It's hard to argue with that. It's what your younger self would have said, in that same position. When did you get so soft?

Well, this is happening. A fight, just like old times. The first one in fifteen years. And it's happening here, in the middle of a crowded market. It's not what you wanted. But it seems inevitable. You could no more prevent this than you could hold back the turning of the earth.

You take a moment to allow memories to rush in. Techniques, styles, moves, and principles. It all comes back to you, like dry paper burning up in a flash.

You can hear Jason Carter now, explaining the basic triangle of combat:

Your initial approach should center on what you expect your opponent to do. Each tactic proves itself superior to another, and itself is defeated by a third. By correctly predicting an opponent's tactic and adapting the right counter, you can gain an advantage even over a stronger foe.

>Attack to chase down the evasive and hesitant, punshing those who wait and observe.
>Defend to weather the storm of an attack, tiring out and frustrating the aggressor.
>Evade and observe to penetrate a defense, seeking out and exploiting vulnerabilities.

>>5692008
>Defend to weather the storm of an attack, tiring out and frustrating the aggressor.
He's looking to make it a short fight by being fast.
>Arjun snap kicks the burger out of your hands.
VOLCANIC RAGE

>>5692008
>Defend to weather the storm of an attack, tiring out and frustrating the aggressor.

>>5692008
OUR BURGER! It was innocent.
I think that cunt's trying to incite aggression, so
>Evade and observe to penetrate a defense, seeking out and exploiting vulnerabilities.

>>5692008
>Defend to weather the storm of an attack, tiring out and frustrating the aggressor.

>>5692008
>Evade and observe

Don't speak, Let me grieve.

>>5692008
>Defend to weather the storm of an attack, tiring out and frustrating the aggressor.

>>5692008
>Defend to weather the storm of an attack, tiring out and frustrating the aggressor.
He's broadcasted his intentions to us.

>>5692850
We can bait him even more, just say "Look kid, Just get lost. You're outmatched and I don't wanna fight you like this."

That'd make him angry. Feinting refusal would perhaps make him ignore that we are on guard.

>>5692869
Then why are you voting for evasion which loses to attack?

>>5692875
Because The option doesn't include a baiting element and his current actions seem to be seeking to get a rise out of us, which means that he intends for us to run attack.

Which is beaten out by wait and observe.

>>5692892
Dude seems too crass to try and pull one like that. He comes off as brash and cocky, wanting to get it done quickly. Everything he's done so far has screamed that he thinks he can walk over us.

Besides, we already uppercutted him so hard he went flying. It's a bit late for feigning refusal. He's already gotten a rise.

>>5692901
Noted. Considered. Accepted.

Changing >>5692077 to Defend.
>With additional Bait "which hospital do you want to be thrown in?"

>>5692008
>>Defend to weather the storm of an attack, tiring out and frustrating the aggressor.
Let's see what this guy can do. Not to get too far ahead either, but once we get him a little tired Vajra's fist to his body may knock the wind out of his sails

>>5692008

The attack is coming. You can see it as clearly as dark clouds on the horizon.

This arrogance, this belligerence, this untamed energy. It's all too familiar. It reminds you of another young warrior, one who was as fiery and impetuous as this youngster. Looking at Arjun, you see a mirror that reflects only the past. You become that much more determined to break it.

Taking a deep breath, you square your shoulders and assume a defensive stance, getting ready for what's coming.

Arjun charges in, going straight for the attack, as you predicted. He unleashes a flurry of kicks, knees, and elbows, attacking unpredictable targets. You can see immediately how he's fused his years in Thailand with the traditional teachings of India, those that form the basis of your own techniques. This is a hybrid style of Kalari and Muay Thai, expertly tailored to someone relying on high-speed offense and an indestructible body. His movements would be a blur to the untrained eye.

You can see how someone like Ravi Mehta, the Tiger Pit's champion, would be dismantled by this swift and brutal onslaught. Used to fighting undisciplined thugs and nameless wannabes, his defense would grow sloppy, easily exploited and punctured.

Not you.

Even now, so many years later, your defense is strong as stone. You remember everything without thinking, like no time has passed at all. Your eyes track the incoming movements like a hawk; you weave and dodge, stepping just out of the reach of each blow when possible; intercept each blow while subtly twisting to disperse the force of the impact.

Arjun's attacks become less precise, more desperate. He's wearing himself out, and you let him. His attacks are a storm of wind, raging and howling, and you stand as the mountain, with unflinching resolve.

Suddenly, he stops. He's breathing heavily, his eyes wide and confused. He expected a battle, an exchange of offense where you both went immediately for the kill. But you're refusing to play his game, and he has nothing to show for all his effort.

"Fight back!" Arjun demands, his voice rising over the noise of the market and the crowd of spectators.

Instead of replying, you smile. His anger and impatience don't dictate the course of this battle. You do.

As Arjun regains his breath, you can sense his thoughts and approach shifting. He's reassessing his strategy. Your defense seems impenetrable, so how to overcome it? What vulnerability could be exploited, what grab or throw or unpredictable attack could penetrate?

Before he even realizes his mindset has changed, you prepare to take advantage of it, and shift your weight to move into the attack. It's time to show this boy what you can do.

Choose 2:
>Assault and strike. A focused commitment to inflict harm.
>Intimidate and pressure. Cut off your opponent's options in the next exchange.
>Smash and destroy. Destabilize your surroundings to impair the opponent.
>Vajra's Fist. Expend chi to deliver a devastating hammer blow.

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>>5694971
>Intimidate and pressure. Cut off your opponent's options in the next exchange.
>Vajra's Fist. Expend chi to deliver a devastating hammer blow.

>>5694971
>Intimidate and pressure. Cut off your opponent's options in the next exchange.
>Vajra's Fist. Expend chi to deliver a devastating hammer blow.

>>5694971
>Assault and strike. A focused commitment to inflict harm.
>Intimidate and pressure. Cut off your opponent's options in the next exchange.

>>5694971
>Assault and strike. A focused commitment to inflict harm.
>Intimidate and pressure. Cut off your opponent's options in the next exchange.

>>5694971
>Assault and strike. A focused commitment to inflict harm.

>>5694971
>Assault and strike. A focused commitment to inflict harm.

>>5694971
>Intimidate and pressure
>Smash and destroy

Perfect set up for the next exchange.

>>5694971
>Intimidate and pressure. Cut off your opponent's options in the next exchange.
>Vajra's Fist. Expend chi to deliver a devastating hammer blow.
Micky Ward strategy. Plus it let's us knock off some rust. Arts take substantial energy, so may as well get used to using it again.

>>5694971
>Assault and strike. A focused commitment to inflict harm.
>Vajra's Fist. Expend chi to deliver a devastating hammer blow.

Hit him hard while he's on the back foot.

>>5694971

The blood in your veins sings a familiar melody, synchronizing with the rhythmic drum of your heart. You know all the notes of this song.

Arjun strikes like he has iron for bones. Each blow could shatter stone or concrete. But they're also reckless, poorly timed, and imprecise. Max Hunter was stronger. Ling Chen was more skilled. This brat is nothing to you.

It's not enough to simply defend. You need to do more. And so it's time to change tactics. This boy, arrogant as he may be, is strong in both body and will. You need to destroy both. Today you will teach this young and inexperienced stripling a valuable lesson. A real fight is more than an exchange of blows. It's about

You step forward to the attack, pressing Arjun back. Each of your movements is deliberate and calculated. You're a predator on the prowl, forcing your prey into a corner. Move by move, you cut off his escape routes, forcing him to stay on the defensive.

As you do this, you fuel the fire of your fighting spirit. The intensity of your aura's energy rises, a spiritual pressure with an overwhelming power against Arjun's own aura. He knows what you're doing and fires himself up in response, your chi clashing in midair. He holds you off, but he has no way to break out. It's all he can do to defend against it.

You put all of your bloodlust into preparing a punch. That draws his attention. He's skilled and perceptive enough to sense the killing intent and prepare for it. But it's a feint. Without missing a beat, you follow up with a powerful hook punch aimed at his jaw. He manages to block it in time, but just barely, and the force of the impact drives him backward.

He's got nowhere to go, and he knows it.

Not letting him recover, you keep up the pressure. Your kicks and punches come in fast and hard. These strikes are no longer testing blows, meant to impress and dismay. These hurt. Your only goal is to inflict damage, to fuck him up as much as possible. The sounds of combat merge with the shouting crowd and the noise of the city, a cacophony of chaos.

Arjun's breath is ragged now. His movements are more predictable as he gets boxed in. His hesitation when searching for an opening backfired, and your relentless pressure has intimidated him too badly to take the offensive. He can't evade or attack. He has no choice but to withdraw like a frightened turtle against your assault, waiting for an opportunity to counter and retaliate.

Before he gets the opportunity, it's time for you to change your approach again. Take a moment to step back. Refresh and refocus. Search for a vulnerability in your opponent to exploit, or a strength in yourself to call upon, whether mental or physical.

>Test his mental balance by taunting and mocking him.
>Take advantage of the environment to impair his vision.
>Step back to use your superior reach for long-range strikes.
>Move in and leverage your superior strength to grapple.
>Expend chi to breathe fire and set everything aflame.

>>5695641
>Move in and leverage your superior strength to grapple.
If going on the defence means blocking, well...

>>5695641
>Test his mental balance by taunting and mocking him.

>>5695641
>Move in and grapple

>>5695641
>Move in and leverage your superior strength to grapple.

>>5695641
>Take advantage of the environment to impair his vision.
I don't want no trabble

>>5695641

Arjun's defensive skills are good. He knows how to block and dodge when needed. But his focus on an offensive style means that comparitively, his defensive techniques are lacking. He's too focused on staying on the attack or searching for opportunities to counter. Your own offense is too relentless for him to handle without staying fully on the defensive.

When he flinches at a feint, you seize the moment you've been waiting for. You close the distance suddenly, without warning. Arjun reacts in time, with the right block for a point-blank hammer blow. Unfortunately for him, that's not what you're doing.

Your hands close around his wrist and shoulder, and using your leverage and superior strength, you hoist him into the air. He lets out a surprised yelp. The second half of the sound is muffled by the sudden rush of wind as you hurl him away from you. He crashes into a fruit stand with a loud crash of splintering wood. The impact breaks the stand apart entirely, scattering the piles of colorful fruit, apples and mangos rolling away in every direction.

You apologize briefly to the angry fruit stand owner as you drag Arjun back up to his feet. That proves to be a mistake, though. You thought he'd be down for a while, but the kid still has fire in him, and he proves it with an uppercut that clips your jaw and forces you staggering backwards with stars exploding behind your eyes.

You shake off the pain to see Arjun wipe blood from his mouth. A new fire is burning in his eyes. He gathers and focuses his chi, a blazing aura of power that sends a heat wave rushing at you. Seems like he's finally decided to take you seriously as an opponent, and go all out.

In a split second, he darts forward to the attack. The assault a relentless onslaught, every attack fueled by raw emotion and desperation. Chi infuses his unending string of rapid punches, each one trailing a glowing afterimage. His movements are wild and unpredictable, making it hard for you to predict.

His aura coalesces and changes, and you witness its true form: the shimmering outlines of a grand and majestic tiger, a specter of fiery orange superimposed over the man. The two attack as one, a fusion of beast and man. Arjun's elbows and punches strike like a tiger's claws, his headbutt is like snapping fangs. This is the Tiger Claw's real power.

The attack is a raging storm, but you've weathered storms like this before. Your next opportunity will be your chance to finish this. All you have to endure until it comes.

Choose 2:
>Exploit your surroundings to disrupt his offense
>Move to a new position to gain an advantage
>Use your experience to evade his blows, waiting for the right moment
>Focus on retaliating with counterattacks
>Intimidate him further by ignoring his hits, withstanding them with pure endurance

>>5697207
>Exploit your surroundings to disrupt his offense
>Use your experience to evade his blows, waiting for the right moment
Flashy effects aside, he's still human. He's gonna make another mistake eventually.

>>5697207
>Exploit your surroundings to disrupt his offense
>Move to a new position to gain an advantage

>>5697207
>Evade
And
>Counter

>>5697207
>Exploit your surroundings to disrupt his offense
>Use your experience to evade his blows, waiting for the right moment

>>5697207
>Exploit your surroundings to disrupt his offense
>Move to a new position to gain an advantage

>>5697207
>Exploit your surroundings to disrupt his offense
>Intimidate him further by ignoring his hits, withstanding them with pure endurance
No way this could backfire.

>>5697209
I support this
>Support

>>5697305
That sounds like something a young man would do, which we aren't. One's fortitude and endurance inevitably drop as time goes on.

>>5697207

Arjun's vigor seems endless. The air shimmers, distorted by the phantom tiger aura, each punch firing your way with a sound like a commanding roar. Few could stand against this offensive. But you're one of them. You aren't some greenhorn to be bowled over by rushdown and pressure tactics. You have experience. And experience has taught you to make use of everything you have.

As you back up, you pass by a spice stall, baskets piled high with colorful powders, roots, and grains. As Arjun lashes out with a punch that could split stone like an axe through wood, you make your move, twisting out the way while also lashing out to connect with the stall. Piles of spice go flying, spilling vivid crimson and ochre powder into the air.

Caught in the middle of the spice cloud, Arjun coughs and sneezes. His eyes water, and his hands flail wildly in a futile attempt to both swat the powder away and keep you at bay.

You don't attack, instead letting your opponent wear himself out further. In fact, why not make it even harder for him? A long line of bicycles stand parked nearby. You pick one of them up and throw it at him. Then you throw a second, and then a third. Finally, with a kick and a quick burst of chi, you send a whole group of bicycles flying, crashing into and around Arjun. Disoriented and blinded by the spices, the impact of the bikes that hit him, and the metallic racket of the ones that don't, add further pain and chaos to his senses.

>>5699471

Infuriated, Arjun lets out a shout, infused with chi and louder than a tiger's roar, that forcefully dispels the spice cloud and blasts the bikes away. The cheers of the crowd turn to frightened gasps as they evade the flying bikes. The shout is successful at freeing Arjun from the mire you trapped him in, but at the cost of some of his remaining energy, and he hardly has any left. His aura is red-hot, but it's a flame burning its last fuel.

All that remains is to win the game of cat and mouse. You weave through the narrow aisles of the market, Arjun hot on your heels. The cheering crowd follows, spectators desperately crowding into sheltered spots to get a glimpse of the next move while remaining safe from stray blows.

Every attack from Arjun, you dodge, sidestep, or deflect. With each whiffed attack, his rage builds. With each enraged swing, he falls further into your trap.

Wear him down. Frustrate him. Push him past the edge of courage and into reckless rage. And then, at just the right moment, there will be a perfect opening. A split second where his defense is completely open and his exhaustion is total.

And when that moment comes, seize it.

Inside you, the ash whirls and scatters in a storm of wind, as though it had never been there at all. The lava-encrusted earth breaks. The cracks reveal the bright red glow of heat, the molten flame that burns eternally below.

There.

>Vajra's Fist & Asura's Wrath: Devastating punches with the indestructible force of diamond / Aggressive charges with the ruthless rage of a demon
>Brahmastra: A concentrated laser-like blast of destruction, named for the weapon that destroys the universe.
>Indra's Thunderstorm: Turn your fists hard as diamond and unleash a killer combination, each blow with the strength of a striking thunderbolt.

>>5699472
>Indra's Thunderstorm
Burger rage

>>5699472
>Indra's Thunderstorm: Turn your fists hard as diamond and unleash a killer combination, each blow with the strength of a striking thunderbolt.

>>5699472
>Brahmastra: A concentrated laser-like blast of destruction, named for the weapon that destroys the universe.

>>5699472
>Brahmastra

FINISH HIM.

>>5699472
>Brahmastra: A concentrated laser-like blast of destruction, named for the weapon that destroys the universe.

>>5699472
>Brahmastra: A concentrated laser-like blast of destruction, named for the weapon that destroys the universe.
A fitting name for a finishing move

>>5699619
>>5699538
>>5699516
>>5699512
Let's fire a destructobeam in the middle of a crowded market. I can see no possible side effects.

>>5699620
I don't see any side effects I care about.

>>5699472
>Indra's Thunderstorm: Turn your fists hard as diamond and unleash a killer combination, each blow with the strength of a striking thunderbolt.

>>5699620
We're not stupid enough to fire this shit off indiscriminately...I think.

>>5699472

From the molten depths, you draw upon the fire. It surges upwards, raw and uncontained, the vast reserves of long-dormant energy in your solar plexus chakra finally unrestrained and let loose. You focus it, clenching your fists and slamming them together, facing upwards, over your stomach -- the seal of Brahma, lord of the universe and creator of its most destructive weapon. Then, with a thunderclap, you break the seal and thrust your arm forward, channeling the energy into a blazing lance of blinding white light.

Maybe you really have gone soft, or maybe you just don't want the heat that would come with slaughtering a dozen bystanders. Either way, at the last second before firing, you will the beam to aim upwards. The attack still strikes, with a little less damage due to its off-center impact, but it will still be enough to put down your weakened opponent, and now the residual energy will dissipate into the air and not the street behind him.

The force of the attack sends shockwaves through the market, shattering windows and television screens, knocking down spectators. Buildings shake. The street breaks in a circle around you, kicking up a cloud of debris that gets washed away by the shockwave.

When the dust settles, you find Arjun, finally down. His clothes are ripped and scorched, his hair is singed, and the aura of a tiger that surrounded him as faded. He still has defiance in his eyes, but his strength has given out entirely.

The crowd is making noise. A few of them are cheering, most of them are talking quietly in awe or fear. You barely hear them.

The fire in you is still burning. Even after firing everything you thought you had into that beam, you still had more. The magma churns and flows, an endless sea of flame. Your blood surges, a torrent in your veins.

It's not enough. You want more.

You need to fight and struggle to survive. You need to hurt and be hurt. You need to destroy and conquer. You need to live in the moment between life and death, seeking the edge of infinity.

You look down at the scorched and blackened form of the so-called Tiger Claw, Arjun Thakur. It's been fifteen years since you stood over a defeated opponent like this. You remember what you did, the last time, at Jason Carter's order.

Do the same thing, now, but for yourself. Shake the tournament with fear. Make the Circle terrified that they provoked you. Show the upstarts of the new generation what happens when they dare to challenge you.

That is, unless you really have gone soft.

>Kill him. Send an indisputable message to everyone.
>Show mercy, but assert your dominance. Make sure he knows his place.
>Walk away. This isn't your problem anymore.

>>5700376
>Kill him. Send an indisputable message to everyone.
Not a reformed villain, just not a lackey anymore

>>5700376
>Walk away. This isn't your problem anymore.

>>5700376
>Show mercy, but assert your dominance. Make sure he knows his place.
Rob him for money for another burger.

>>5700376
>Kill him. Send an indisputable message to everyone.

>>5700376
>Kill him. Send an indisputable message to everyone.

>>5700376
>Kill him.

We've regretted so much. No more. You do not provoke the master of the mountain.

>>5700376
>Kill him. Send an indisputable message to everyone.

Going through the thread, if we kill him [which it looks is likely] it seems that the trajectory we have here is an "awakened dragon" type of deal.

He's been dormant for 15 years, but now that someone has come to kick his ass into gear, He's shaking off the rust and regaining some of that pride he had as carter's weapon.
The only hitch is his regret over Saito and his hesitation about pulling short of Jack. A potentially fatal weakness when they meet in the Kumite, which he will probably be funneled a challenger if he doesn't go willingly by the circle.

>>5700376
>Kill him. Send an indisputable message to everyone.

>>5700376
>>5700388 +1

>>5700376

Your decision is made. This boy was a fool to provoke you, and he needs to learn the true cost of his arrogance. More importantly, so does Han Yang and the Circle. So does every man and woman around the world who dared to think that Ram Khan could be challenged.

You can see the realization dawning in his eyes, the understanding that there won't be any second chances, that it all ends right here and now. It's a mixture of terror and defiance, warring with each other. His fear of his own demise gives you a surge of power that feels intoxicating. You stand over him and raise a fist burning with energy.

He should have let you finish your burger.

"Any last words?" you ask.

Arjun just glares up at you, and spits out a wad of blood. "Go to hell."

You feel a cruel smile on your face. "I'll see you there."

And with that, you drive your fist down. Bones break, organs rupture. The last of his chi bleeds into the air, wisps of energy that fade into nothing. And it ends.

There's a moment of shocked silence from the crowd, before they erupt in screams of terror and shouts of anger. You don't care. None of them matter.

The blood on your hands makes you feel more alive than you have in years. The intent to kill, the thrill of battle, the rush of power ... it's all coming back to you.

Amidst the chaos, there stands one figure who remains unmoved. A familiar woman in a sophisticated black suit, her face impassive. Seeing you looking at her, Li Wei reaches into her jacket and withdraws the invitation to the tournament. It's a silent question to you.

Striding over to her, you snatch the invitation out of her hand and incinerate it, a swift blaze burning it to ash in an instant. "I accept!" you shout, the roar of a predator. "Tell them. Tell all of them. Ram Khan is back, and now no one is safe."

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>>5701215

TOURNAMENT ARC will resume in 2023, sometime after Heat City Nights 7.

Thank YOU for playing!

Well shit I'm in here for the first time ever because I was suddenly overcome by nostalgia for the old Street Fighter Quest and was looking for something like it, time to read the archives and hope I'm not too late to the party