Moments ago...

  The fluorescent lights of Osaka General Hospital cast harsh shadows across the polished floors as Takeshi walked through the main entrance. His massive frame moved with purpose, each step deliberate despite his disheveled appearance. The muscle top clung to his broad shoulders, stained and wrinkled, while his dingy shorts completed the picture of a man who had abandoned all pretense of respectability. The sharp scent of alcohol lingered around him like a poisonous cloud.

  The receptionist looked up from her computer, her professional smile faltering as she took in his appearance. "Excuse me, sir, do you need help?"

  Takeshi's face remained emotionless, carved from stone. "I need to know what office Dr. Malveau is in."

  "I'm sorry, but Dr. Malveau is currently booked for at least another month," she replied, her voice maintaining its trained politeness. "However, there are other excellent doctors available who can assist you with—"

  "I only need to know what office he is in." The words came out calmly, but there was something underneath them that made the air itself seem to shift.

  Heat began to radiate from Takeshi's body, subtle at first, like standing too close to a campfire. The receptionist felt sweat begin to form on her brow as his furious aura pressed against her like a physical weight.

  "Sir, I really can't—" she started, but her voice died as the temperature continued to rise.

  "You need to begin escorting people out of this hospital," Takeshi said, his grip tightening on the edge of the front desk. "Now."

  The receptionist stared at him, incredulous. "I can't possibly—that's not something I can just—"

  The heat intensified, and she could see the air shimmering around his clenched fists. This wasn't just anger; this was something far more dangerous.

  "Dr. Malveau is evil," Takeshi continued, his voice carrying the weight of absolute conviction. "You should call the Academy. Bring heroes here."

  The receptionist's hands trembled as she looked into his eyes and saw something that terrified her more than his words—complete and utter certainty. This man wasn't making threats. He was stating facts.

  "R-room 314," she stammered, already reaching for the phone. "Third floor, east wing."

  Takeshi released his grip on the desk and began walking toward the elevators. Behind him, the receptionist stared in horror at the portion of the desk he had held—the metal surface was charred black, the plastic melted and warped as if it had been held over an open flame for hours. Her fingers flew over the phone's keypad, dialing the Academy's emergency line.

  As the elevator doors closed, Takeshi stared at his reflection in the polished steel. Either I'm dying today, or he is, he thought, watching his own eyes burn with purpose for the first time in years. Regardless, this will be my atonement.

  Present

  Dr. Malveau's feet dangled in the air as Takeshi's massive hand crushed against his throat, lifting him effortlessly from the ground. The fallen hero's grip burned like molten metal, searing into the doctor's flesh despite his desperate mana reinforcement.

  "I'll make you pay for what you did to my wife!" Takeshi's voice was raw with rage as he lifted the doctor from his chair and slammed him against the wall.

  The flames around Takeshi's free hand flared brighter, and suddenly Dr. Malveau was screaming. The smell of burning flesh filled the room as Takeshi's grip seared into his neck, the heat intense enough to char skin despite the doctor's desperate mana reinforcement.

  Takeshi released his hold and drove a massive fist into Dr. Malveau's kidneys, sending him flying across the room to crash into a cabinet of medical supplies. Glass shattered, instruments scattered, and the doctor hit the floor hard.

  Dr. Malveau gasped, his hand instinctively moving to his throat where angry red burns marked Takeshi's fingerprints. His mana had limited the damage, but the heat had still gotten through his defenses. Crawling desperately toward a fallen cotton swab, he reached out to grab it—only to watch it burst into flames and crumble to ash inches from his fingertips.

  "Whatever you're planning on doing," Takeshi said, his voice carrying the weight of a command, "I won't allow you to do it."

  This wasn't a statement. It wasn't even a threat. It was a divine decree that Dr. Malveau would not survive this encounter.

  Shit, this guy is intense, Malveau thought, his analytical mind racing even through the pain. Winning in a physical one-on-one match won't work. I need to get into his head, make him slip. That will be my path to victory.

  Takeshi began walking toward him, each step making the room burn hotter, the air itself becoming thick and suffocating. Medical equipment began to smoke and warp from the intense heat radiating from the fallen hero's body.

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  "Hinata," Dr. Malveau said casually.

  Takeshi stopped, taking an involuntary step back at the sound of his daughter's name.

  "What age will you begin beating her the same way you beat your wife?" Malveau asked, his voice dripping with mock concern.

  The effect was instantaneous. Rage boiled over in Takeshi's chest as he lunged forward, grabbing Dr. Malveau with both hands around the neck. "Don't you dare say her name, you sadistic fuck!"

  Char began building around Dr. Malveau's throat as Takeshi's grip tightened, the doctor's mana surging to reinforce his body against the searing heat. Suspended and choking, Malveau reached out with his free hand and pressed it against Takeshi's ribs.

  If giving life energy to inanimate objects can turn them into body parts, then giving life energy to something already living will throw them completely off their game.

  Suddenly Takeshi was screaming, his hands releasing their death grip as his entire world tilted sideways. Objects far from his vision appeared close enough to touch. The sound of things burning in the room became deafening, like a freight train passing through his skull. His physical body felt disconnected, as if he wasn't choking somebody but floating in empty space with no control over his nervous system. Every sense was scrambled, disoriented, wrong.

  Dammit! What the hell is wrong with my body? I have no control over it after he touched me.

  Takeshi collapsed to his knees, his anguished screams filling the room as Dr. Malveau fell to the floor, gasping. The doctor quickly grabbed scattered cotton swabs, his concept transforming them into living flesh that crawled up his arms, healing his burns and damaged throat.

  The sight of the imposing man on his knees, crying out in pain, sent waves of sadistic pleasure through Dr. Malveau's body. This was what he lived for—the reduction of strength to helplessness, the transformation of threats into victims.

  "Oh, look how pathetic you are!" he laughed, his voice hoarse but filled with sick delight. "The screams, the disorientation—it's beautiful, isn't it? I want those screams to be louder, you prick!"

  Dr. Malveau grabbed Takeshi with one hand, infusing more of his concept's energy into the fallen hero's nervous system while drilling a scalpel into his ribs with the other. From Takeshi's disoriented perspective, the thin blade felt like being slashed with a thousand swords repeatedly. Every nerve was amplified, every sensation magnified beyond endurance.

  The doctor continued his torture, stabbing again and again, each strike accompanied by taunts and laughter that echoed through Takeshi's scrambled hearing like the voices of demons.

  But then, through the chaos of his disrupted senses, a thought cut through the pain with crystal clarity: If I can't orientate my body and my nervous system with where I am... I'll just burn everything.

  The room exploded into an inferno.

  Smoke filled every corner as anything within Takeshi's range began to catch fire and incinerate into dust. Chairs, tables, medical equipment—all reduced to ash in seconds. The very air became a furnace, and Dr. Malveau found himself suffocating as his skin began to crisp despite his mana reinforcement.

  Is this brute going to kill both of us? Malveau thought desperately, pouring more energy into protecting his body. I can hardly breathe. It feels like my skin is crisping off the muscle if I don't keep up my mana reinforcement!

  Through the chaos, Takeshi fought to regain control of his body. The life energy Dr. Malveau had infused into his system was finally burning away, his hands and feet beginning to cooperate with his brain and nervous system again.

  Dr. Malveau's concentration slipped for just a moment—a moment of distraction as he watched Takeshi resist the effects of Surgeon's Kiss so quickly. In that instant, his mana reinforcement faltered, and his skin began to char.

  Takeshi was on him in seconds, throwing a barrage of punches with pure intent to kill. Each blow carried the weight of years of self-hatred, guilt, and rage, his body continuing to emit the intense heat that made every strike feel like being hit with molten metal. Blood and spit flew from Dr. Malveau's mouth as he was systematically destroyed, the once-perfect doctor with his slicked hair and immaculate features being reduced to a shadow of his former self.

  Third-degree burns covered his body where Takeshi had choked him. His perfectly styled hair was singed and wild. His face, once handsome and composed, was swollen and bloody from the devastating punch combinations.

  So this is how I die? Dr. Malveau thought as another punch landed across his face, sending him flying through the doorway into the adjacent room.

  Being this close to death, tasting the iron in my mouth from the blood, and these heavy punches... Another blow to his stomach launched him across the space like a ragdoll.

  All those I have tortured experienced this pain. This close to death... He crashed into the far wall, barely managing to get to one knee as Takeshi approached through the smoke and flames.

  It excites me. Don't tease me with death.

  Looking up at his approaching executioner, Dr. Malveau caught sight of his own reflection in Takeshi's burning eyes. The physical and metaphorical mask he wore had been stripped away completely. He saw his skin burned and blackened, saw the intensity of the man who was about to kill him, and began to grin.

  Takeshi was now four feet away, his massive frame silhouetted against the fire-lit doorway.

  What is this tingling sensation in my body? Malveau wondered, his grin widening. Death had always excited him, but this was something new, something different.

  The thrill of battle.

  Takeshi noticed the grin and felt the shift in the atmosphere around them. Years of hero missions had trained even his subconscious to recognize when an opponent was about to make a desperate move. But he was too close, too committed to his attack to heed the warning.

  A mistake.

  This tingling in my body, I feel it in my spine, Dr. Malveau thought, his excitement building to a fever pitch. The thrill to defeat a man who almost killed me! The thrill to defeat a man who's physically stronger than me. To defeat him and be the winner... it's exhilarating and I could orgasm!

  The intensity in the room shifted like a storm front moving in. Gravity felt stronger, the air thicker. Dr. Malveau clasped the backs of his hands together, power flowing through him like electricity.

  "I don't know why," he whispered, his voice filled with ecstatic anticipation, "but I feel like I can finally do it."

  Dr. Malveau clasped the backs of his hands together, his fingers interlocking in an inverted prayer position as power began to flow through his body.

  The sight of the ritual gesture sent ice through Takeshi's veins—he knew exactly what it meant. A shrine technique.

  "Shrine technique," Dr. Malveau said, his voice rising to a crescendo of sadistic joy.

  "Pain Split."