Villain: Your Heroines Were Delicious - Chapter 146 - 11

Chapter 146: Chapter 11

“Primordial Strength”, this is not mere physical power, but is the waking echo of Beowulf’s legend carved directly into Renji’s existence.

When invoked, his body becomes a living saga, muscles surging with an ancient, merciless vitality that predates kingdoms and gods alike.

Every heartbeat sounds like a war drum from a forgotten age, every breath carries the weight of a hero who tore monsters apart with bare hands.

This strength allows him to completely asserts dominance, declaring him as a relic of an era where survival belonged only to those strong enough to seize it.

Under its influence, Renji’s flesh hardens into something closer to myth than human.

His bones become unbreakable pillars, sinew coils with explosive force, and his grip holds the certainty of death itself.

Blades will shatter against his skin, impacts that would level buildings would barely slow his stride, and enemies feel an instinctive terror, as if their blood remembers Beowulf’s name.

This power grows fiercer the greater the foe, answering challenge with overwhelming brutality, as though the legend itself refuses to allow Renji to fall before anything unworthy.

At its peak, Primordial Strength drags Beowulf’s will fully into the present, turning Renji into a singularity of heroic violence.

Every strike of his will carry the authority of a monster-slayer who knew no fear, only conquest.

There is no finesse, nor restraint—only the absolute, crushing certainty that whatever stands before him will be broken, torn apart, and erased from the battlefield.

“Clench your teeth!” Renji roared, as with a burst of speed that surpasses human eye, he dissappeared, appearing before Ryu whose eyes widened but couldn’t react.

Just then, the corridor groaned as Renji’s fist connected with Ryu’s abdomen, the Primordial Strength of Beowulf surging through his arm.

The force itself wasn’t just kinetic, but it was more akin to a physical rejection of Ryu’s very existence.

As the impact of punch finally connected, the “Saint” of Shinomiya was launched upward like a ragdoll, his body shattering through the reinforced concrete of the ceiling in a spray of dust and rebar.

Renji stayed in his crouch for a moment, his glowing amber eyes fixed on the settling debris.

He looked at his own fist, which was still steaming with golden vapor and frowned.

“Too much,” he muttered, his voice sounding like grinding stones. “As expected, I still find it hard to control this strength. It’s like trying to thread a needle while riding on a rollercoaster.”

However, he didn’t have long to contemplate his lack of control as a roar of pure, animalistic fury echoed from the floor above, and a silhouette blurred through the hole.

“YOU BASTARD!”

Ryu roared, shaking the very foundation of the building as he descended like a meteor, his body wreathed in a sickening, dark-blue miasma.

Renji’s eyes widened as he quickly reacted, the tribal markings on his skin flaring red as he slid across the floor, narrowly avoiding the impact.

Boom!

The ground where Ryu landed shattered, cratering under the weight of a new, monstrous form.

Ryu stood up, but the human appearance he used to have was now gone.

Behind him loomed the phantom image of Asterion Minotaur, the blue-skinned beast of the labyrinth from Greek Mythology.

Along with it, Ryu’s skin had taken on a bruised, sapphire hue, and two curved, obsidian horns sprouted from his forehead.

His eyes were no longer green; they were a flat, murderous red.

“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” Ryu screamed, the words slurring into a bestial growl.

He lunged, and his fighting style wasn’t boxing anymore, but more of a wild and savage attacks that disregards all forms of martial arts.

Ryu unleashed a barrage of strikes that lacked any technical grace but possessed the raw, crushing power of a mountain collapse.

Every kick sent shockwaves through the walls; every punch cracked the air.

But Renji met the onslaught with a terrifying, unnatural calm.

He moved within the eye of the storm, his golden aura acting as a predictive shield as he parried a heavy hook that would have decapitated a bull, the sound of the impact ringing like a blacksmith’s anvil.

He slipped under a lunge, his movements both efficient and predatory.

“….You who lack pride in your fists,” Renji said, his voice steady even as he blocked a flurry of blue-tinted blows. “You will never be able to reach me. For me, it seems like you are fighting to erase a memory, not to win a battle.”

“Shut up! Shut up!” Ryu’s voice broke into a shriek. “Pride? Dignity? Those are words for losers who need a reason to feel better about being crushed! I am a victor! I am the elite! Whatever I do is right because I am the one standing!”

Renji caught a massive fist in his palm, the golden energy of Beowulf sizzling against the blue hide of the Minotaur.

He looked Ryu directly in the eyes—eyes that were drowning in a sea of inferiority.

“You’re not a victor,” Renji whispered, a hint of genuine pity softening his hard features. “You’re just a disappointment. I can’t believe I was actually waiting for another chance to fight you again, and yet all I found was a frightened child hiding behind a monster’s mask.”

“WHAT DO YOU KNOW?!” Ryu’s spirit energy flared in a desperate, jagged explosion. “You’re a gutter rat! A bastard born with the talent I had to bleed for! Why?! Why was a nobody like you born with that?!”

As Ryu swung wildly, his mind was a kaleidoscopic nightmare of the past year.

He saw his coach’s eyes—the way they would light up when watching old tapes of Renji’s “untamed” style, only to dim when looking at Ryu’s “perfected” but hollow technique.

He saw his brothers and parents—legendary martial artists who treated his trophies like participation ribbons because they could sense the cowardice in his soul.

They spoke of Renji as a “diamond in the rough,” while Ryu was just polished glass.

He hated it. He hated it. He had worked hard to get to where he is, yet some gutter rat from unknown corner of the street possessed the skills he spent years honing in just a few months of training!

How is this fair!? He was obviously born superior, so why can this man so easily surpass him!?

“WHY WERE YOU EVEN BORN?!”

Ryu’s released a final, desperate strike. It was a wide, telegraphed overhand right, embodying the strike of a man who had already lost.

Renji didn’t dodge.

He stepped into the strike, his shoulder taking the brunt of the blow while his own right hand moved with the inevitability of a guillotine.

THOOM.

Renji’s fist buried itself into Ryu’s solar plexus, and the blue spirit of the Minotaur flickered and shattered like glass.

The air was driven out of Ryu’s lungs in a violent spray of crimson.

He froze, his body locked in a spasm of total physiological shock.

Renji didn’t stop, but proceed to unleash an unyielding series of attacks?

Jab!

Jab!

Hook!

Jab!

Each blow landed with the sound of a hammer hitting a steak as Ryu’s head snapped back repeatedly, his “noble” features being pulverized by the “gutter rat’s” fists.

Finally, to end the fight, Renji dropped low and exploded upward, intending to end the fight with an uppercut.

It connected, hitting Ryu on the chin as the sound of jaw breaking echoed throughout the hallway.

That uppercut was a masterpiece of primordial violence. It lifted the 200-pound Ryu off his feet, launching him nearly to the ceiling before he fell back down, hitting the floor with a wet, heavy thud.

At that moment, hus blue skin faded, the horns dissolved as Ryu lay in a pool of his own blood, unconscious, his face a ruin of the arrogance he had worn so proudly.

Renji stood over him, his chest heaving.

Then, a beat later, the red tribal markings slowly retreated, and the golden aura of Beowulf flickered out, leaving the hallway in a dim, cold gray.

Suddenly, a wave of vertigo hit Renji like a physical blow as the “Primordial Strength” had exacted its toll.

His knees buckled, and he leaned heavily against the wall before sliding down to sit on the floor.

He fumbled for a cigarette, but realized his hands were shaking too much to light it, so he just sat there, staring at his blood-stained knuckles.

“So… this is it?” Renji whispered to the empty, quiet hall. “Revenge?”

He looked at Ryu’s broken form, and couldn’t help but think. He had waited months for this, he had dreamt of the moment he would stand over the fallen body of this enemy and reclaim his honor.

But as he sat there in the dark, feeling the phantom pains of the battle and the hollow ache in his chest, the victory felt surprisingly cold.

“Honestly,” he sighed, tilting his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. “It doesn’t feel as satisfying as I thought. I just feel… tired.”

He let out a long, weary breath, the silence of the third floor only broken by the distant, muffled sounds of the battle still raging in the auditorium.

He had done his part.

Now, the rest are up to you guys.