Chapter 210: I Am Willing to Cast Aside Everything!

Keyaki Mall, fifth floor. Crowds surged and bustled, clamor and chilled air mingling together.

The tasks at some of the competition's check-in points had been posted by participating students onto the school forums. The students reached a unanimous conclusion—these tasks were absolutely not designed for ordinary students!

In just a few short dozen minutes, the vast majority of students had already come to terms with reality. They dispersed—each returning to their own homes, each seeking out their own mothers, doing whatever it was they were supposed to be doing.

And so, after a full day of Sports Festival competitions, the foot traffic at Keyaki Mall was, on the contrary, even heavier than usual.

Amidst the slightly congested flow of the crowd, Fuyuji Mikage nimbly threaded and wove his way through. His gaze swiftly locked onto the emergency exit of the stairwell.

Careless. He had never imagined that the school would actually set up that mandatory checkpoint on the fifth floor of Keyaki Mall. As a result, he'd been forced to toss his skateboard into a storage locker and sprint up on foot.

Tragic. The Handcrafting Immortal Sage had fallen!

Still, no major issue. He had already completed twelve checkpoints. Only two mandatory checkpoints and one optional checkpoint remained. Even if he had to go on foot for the rest, he still held a considerable advantage.

Fuyuji raised a hand and wiped away the fine beads of sweat seeping from his temples. He burst out from the fifth-floor emergency exit.

"Di di di da da~ Da la da di da~"

Cheerful, lilting music drifted and echoed through the fifth floor of Keyaki Mall. Fuyuji swiftly swept past shop after shop.

Western restaurant. Movie theater. Cold drinks shop. Snack shop—

His forward strides came to an abrupt halt. Fuyuji, who had already dashed several meters ahead, came jogging backwards in reverse. He wrenched his head around and silently stared in the direction of the snack shop, fragrant aromas wafting thickly through the air.

The tempting, scorched fragrance of roasting fats and the sweet, cloying, sugary scent bored straight into his nostrils...

Three minutes later. Before the mandatory checkpoint on the fifth floor of Keyaki Mall.

"Hm? How come there's no related equipment? Is it another social-skill type mission?" Having forked a steaming, piping-hot piece of takoyaki into his mouth, Fuyuji raised an eyebrow and asked. "And why didn't I get a mission prompt when I arrived at the checkpoint?"

Logically, the moment the phone app detected that a competitor was nearby, it should have vibrated and automatically popped up the mission details.

The staff member smiled without answering. He raised a hand and gestured for Fuyuji to tap on the check-in point and check for himself.

[Mission: It Takes Two]

[This mission requires teaming up with another competitor who has also completed more than 10 check-ins. Tap the team-up button below to begin.]

The crisp, crunching sound of chewing came to an abrupt halt.

"..."

He finally understood. So this was why no one had posted this checkpoint's mission onto the forums earlier. It was because no one could even activate it in the first place.

"Tch..."

The corner of Fuyuji's eye twitched violently. He clicked his tongue.

Had been blindsided, huh. Should he head to a different checkpoint first?

The thought had barely flickered through his mind before he rejected it.

No. If, when he came back again, there was still no teammate available, the result would be the same—he'd be stuck here. In other words, he needed to find someone trustworthy—

"Not bad, brat. You run pretty fast. And you've actually got the leisure to be stuffing your face." A teasing, playful, elder-sister voice sounded from behind him.

Almost simultaneously, a slender, graceful arm—carrying the faint, post-exercise warmth and the delicate fragrance of a woman—domineeringly wrapped around his neck and locked him in place.

"Senpai... are you a god?" Fuyuji turned his head with deep, profound emotion. An exquisite, refined face entered his line of sight. "Every time I run into trouble, you appear right by my side."

"Well? Isn't Senpai good to you?" Kiryuin Fuka pulled out her phone.

"Way too good." Fuyuji took another bite of his takoyaki. "But Senpai—didn't you just tell me to send a message? You got it resolved that quickly?"

He was well aware of his Senpai's social connections. To say she looked down upon the entire world with utter contempt—that would be a compliment.

Aside from that five-hundred-character flattering praise he'd just sent her—there was probably no student who would send that kind of conscience-betraying message to Senpai.

"Oh, that." Kiryuin lowered her head. Her slender, graceful fingers tapped against her phone, sending a team-up request. Her silver-white strands of hair cascaded down both cheeks. "Some student posted this mission's details on the forums. As a result, a huge crowd of students went to the forums to make some quick cash. They said—'If you find it too embarrassing to ask your friends for compliments'—they'd take care of solving that pain point. Three thousand points per session. Custom orders available."

Fuyuji Mikage: "..."

Where did this commercial genius come from? As expected—where there's demand, there's a market.

The instant the team-up succeeded, both phones simultaneously buzzed with a sharp vibration. The mission popped up.

[Mission: The Wrist of Socializing]

[Man is the sum total of all social relations. Good social skills aid in establishing and maintaining interpersonal relationships, as well as enhancing work efficiency and quality of life. Powerful social skills, moreover, can render the impossible possible—business negotiations, mediating conflicts, turning enemies into friends. Please demonstrate your flexible social finesse. Persuade your teammate to voluntarily give up on this competition.]

Crack!

A silent, wordless atmosphere soundlessly shrouded the scene.

Staring at the mission details in utter disbelief once more, Fuyuji blinked. He abruptly raised his head and stared woodenly at the professional, businesslike smile on the referee's face.

"Would you like to take a look at what this mission says?"

"As the staff member at this check-in point, we are aware of the corresponding missions."

"Do you think this is something a human being could do?" Fuyuji's voice was thick with incredulity.

The referee maintained an awkward yet polite smile. "These are the missions issued and distributed by the school. As for our side... there's nothing we can do about it either..."

"Then has anyone ever succeeded?"

"Not at present." The tone was gentle and mild, yet utterly unhelpful.

"..."

The air itself seemed to freeze solid for a single instant.

In that very moment—the threads of his thoughts connected in a flash. With extreme, agonizing slowness, Fuyuji turned his head. He squeezed out a fawning, ingratiating smile that looked even uglier than crying. "Senpai..."

"Oh? I can do it, certainly. I am still quite fond of my adorable kouhai, after all." Kiryuin tilted her head slightly. The corner of her lips curved into a playful, amused arc. Within those beautiful, captivating eyes sparkled a light of keen, eager excitement. "Still—I am rather curious. Exactly how do you plan to persuade your Senpai?"

"Like this!"

Before the words had even finished, Fuyuji—with swift eyes and swift hands—stuffed the remaining, still-steaming half of the takoyaki straight into Kiryuin's slightly parted, water-pink lips without any further explanation...

....

Outside the window, the sun had already gradually slanted westward and dimmed. The golden-red lingering glow of the setting sun lazily spilled across the glass curtain walls of the complex building, then reflected back onto the ground, stretching the shadows very, very long. The air was saturated with the unique, languid, drowsy atmosphere of dusk.

Ryuen Kakeru—having successfully sent Nagumo Miyabi off to the hospital—was, in this very moment, brimming with triumphant, soaring vigor. With the help of his underlings, he had completed twelve check-in points with the utmost, most effortless ease.

Now, as long as he finished off this one remaining mandatory checkpoint—only three more would remain. The five million would be in his grasp!

Hmph! What Student Council Vice President? Nothing more than a mere, ordinary mortal who hadn't had the fortune of enrolling in my era!

The corner of his mouth split wide open. He strode with great, sweeping steps directly toward the complex building.

Arriving before the complex building—it was still the simple, modest setup of a sunshade paired with desks. However, the number of staff members was clearly greater than before.

Ryuen was not surprised by this. He crisply and efficiently pulled out his phone.

[Mission: You Are the Challenger]

[At the merit-based Advanced Nurturing High School, no matter how outstanding your theoretical data may be, if you cannot apply these advantages in actual combat, they are nothing more than armchair strategy. Students who have completed more than 10 check-in points may freely set themselves as either a Defender or a Challenger.]

[Defenders may select an event they excel in to defend their position. Challengers may freely choose from among the numerous Defenders. Defeat the opponent to successfully check in. (Note: The losing party will immediately forfeit their qualifications for this competition.)]

Swiping the screen upward, a series of events entered his line of sight. Yet only a pitifully sparse few were lit up and active.

Free Combat;

Japanese Literature Examination;

Soccer;

...

For this mission, anyone with eyes could see that the Defender held the greater advantage. However, it was easy to fall into the awkward predicament of having no one willing to challenge you.

Challengers, on the other hand, could swiftly initiate a challenge—but they would have to compete against the opponent in a field in which the opponent was supremely confident.

But Ryuen paid this no mind whatsoever.

Without the slightest hesitation, he selected Free Combat—commonly known as brawling. Only the fist was worthy of trust.

After the match was successfully made, a referee led him toward one of the more spacious, empty rooms within the laboratory building. The corridor's light grew dim and murky here. The air was saturated with the faint, dusty scent of age.

Within the shadows at the other end of the room, a tall, towering figure slowly straightened up.

The light slanted diagonally upon him, tracing the contours of Koenji Rokusuke's body—as perfectly sculpted and flawless as if carved from marble.

"Oh? Someone has finally arrived, have they?"

Seeing that someone had come, Koenji finally snapped out of his entranced self-admiration of his own reflection in the mirror. With slow, unhurried, deliberate motions, he put away his portable compact mirror.

"Isn't this the dragon boy from the class next door? What a curious, wondrous twist of fate, hm?" His tone was languid and indolent. "Well then... would you perhaps care to simply surrender and concede defeat?"

"Those words—I should be the one returning them to you." Ryuen bared his teeth, revealing a grim, bone-white grin. He let out a savage sneer. "What a fateful, destined coincidence. There just so happen to be some things I wanted to ask you. The afternoon of the third day of school—the restroom on the east side of the teaching building. Did you go there?"

"Regretfully—I generally do not bother to remember such tedious, boring matters." He casually, nonchalantly tidied his dazzling, radiant golden hair.

"No matter. I'll make you remember." Ryuen's voice dropped low.

"Ho." Koenji finally looked at him directly. His brow arched slightly. "And what, precisely, do you mean by that?"

"Isn't it obvious?!" Ryuen let out a fierce, explosive roar. Like an arrow loosed from its bowstring, he abruptly kicked off the ground and charged straight at him!

In an instant, the two of them were locked in tangled, chaotic combat. The muffled, dull thuds of fists and feet colliding echoed and reverberated through the empty room. The light flickered and dimmed between their rapidly shifting, darting figures. Dust danced and swirled in the gusts of their punches.

At the very same time—before the main entrance of the laboratory building.

As a Challenger, Horikita Suzune drew a deep breath. Her fingertip slid across the screen and selected "Japanese Literature Examination."

She was, like Koenji, someone who—just as she had received Fuyuji's flattering praise and was hesitating over whether or not to give up—had, by pure coincidence, run into Kushida Kikyo, who happened to be passing by.

Unsurprisingly, Kushida had, with the utmost, most fervent enthusiasm, offered to help her gather support and votes.

After a bout of internal struggle and hesitation—she had still accepted Kushida's help and successfully obtained the support of nine other people.

After clearing that mandatory checkpoint, the subsequent check-in points had, by a stroke of fortune, been smooth and unobstructed all the way. She had actually arrived here even earlier than most of the other competitors.

When she saw those pitifully sparse, scarce few events—in order to save time and close the gap—she had decisively chosen the Challenger role.

Soccer—she was not skilled in it. Although she knew Aikido and, truth be told, rather enjoyed inflicting violence upon certain individuals, brawling was definitely not her style. Thus, she had prudently, cautiously selected the academic subject examination—her relative forte.

With a sharp click, the metal door handle turned. The door swung open in response. The cold, pale white light of the corridor flooded into the dim, shadowy room.

"You've come, Suzune."

A calm, steady voice rang out from the darkness in another corner of the room. Horikita Manabu stood silently on the other side. He raised a hand and pushed up his glasses. The lenses reflected the light from the doorway, veiling his eyes from view.

"As expected—you chose this one. Ever since you were little, you've always loved reading books."

"O-Onii-sama?!"

"Well then... let us compete and see." Horikita Manabu stepped forward a single pace. His figure was now fully exposed beneath the light. An overwhelmingly oppressive, pressure-laden presence instantly diffused and spread outward. "Let me see whether or not you've made any progress over these past few years."

...

"Bang—!"

Accompanied by a heavy, muffled impact and the faint, subtle tremor of the floorboards, Ryuen's body slammed heavily against the floor. An involuntary, agonized groan escaped his lips.

Koenji elegantly tidied his faintly wrinkled lapels and dusted nonexistent specks of dust from his cuffs. Gazing at the reflective surface of the pristine wall, he blew a single, soft puff of air.

"Useless, dragon boy. No matter how many times you try—you cannot defeat me."

"What do you mean, I can't defeat you?! I don't understand a word of it!" Ryuen gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. Panting and gasping for breath, his face bruised and swollen, he stubbornly, tenaciously struggled and scrabbled his way up from the ground, bit by bit.

"Such tenacity, boya~" Koenji folded his arms. "But no matter how tenacious you are—you cannot defeat me. Whether by force or by any other means. This beautiful body of mine—is overwhelmingly, dominatingly powerful. I chose this event merely because it would allow a swift and decisive resolution, that is all."

"Is that so, young master of the conglomerate? You believe your body is beautiful, do you?" Ryuen spat out a mouthful of blood-tinged saliva. The corner of his mouth curled into a grin.

"Of course!" Koenji spread both arms wide, as if presenting a rare, priceless treasure. "My beauty is utterly unrivaled."

"Well then... that truly is... wonderful."

A cold, sinister sneer suddenly surfaced on Ryuen's face. With a trembling, quivering hand, he fished out a small canister of murky, turbid liquid from the very depths of his trouser pocket.

"Dragon boy! What is that thing you're holding in your hand?!" Koenji's pupils abruptly constricted. Subconsciously, he retreated a single step. The corner of his eye twitching violently, he demanded.

As if he hadn't heard a single word, Ryuen spoke on his own, in a tone of nostalgic reminiscence. "Do you know—that day was the most unforgettable day of my entire life... Because of that damned mastermind—I earned two titles. The Crap-Eating King... and the Toilet God of War!"

"Well then—do you know exactly how this Toilet God of War came to be?!" After a bout of dazed, muttered murmuring, his volume suddenly spiked. "No matter! As long as I can win!!"

Before the words had even finished, Ryuen viciously, savagely twisted the cap off with a sharp pop. Without the slightest shred of hesitation, he poured the liquid within the canister directly over his own head! The viscous, sticky fluid streamed down his hair, his cheeks, his neck, bringing with it a piercing, acrid, bizarre stench.

The referee watching from the sidelines felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Silently, he retreated two steps.

With a sharp clatter, Ryuen casually tossed the empty canister aside. It bounced and rolled into the distance. He violently shook his head. Casting aside all restraint, he launched his final, desperate charge straight toward Koenji!

"For victory—to defeat you—I am willing to cast aside everything!!"

The absolute strongest! From this, the loneliness born—what taught him love was...

...

...

...

...

...

[Bonus Mini-Theater: Regarding the Mysterious Liquid]

Q: What exactly did Ryuen Kakeru pour over himself?

A: Specially concocted stench juice (a mixture of fermented surströmming can juice + expired chili sauce + skatole). Relying on his awe-inspiring, illustrious reputation as the Toilet God of War, he successfully intimidated and frightened Koenji into a stupor! Result: Critical Success!

-----------------------------------------------------------

If you want to Support me, you can Read Extra Chapters on : [email protected]/Yuni_TL

50 [Power Stones] = Bonus Chapter!