Chapter 87: The Young Fox of the Annihilating Ghost

His arms whirled overhead, driving a frightful roar of wind, and when his feet came down, the ground itself seemed to shudder with a low, thunderous boom.

“A terrifying strength... but rather clumsy,” Veenig snorted, springing lightly into the air and thrusting out a hand.

Heaven-Splitting Wave Fist.

Even a half-giant could not simply ignore the shockwave fist unleashed by Akuma. The dark violet force crashing down from above struck the half-giant and snapped his head slightly aside; the skin where it landed flared with purple fire, flickering for several beats.

That had to hurt.

Veenig landed softly. The half-giant, recovering at last, bellowed toward the sky and spread his arms wide, lunging to seize him.

“Trying to grab me?” Veenig scoffed. He lowered himself a little, watched the half-giant’s sweeping arm, and stamped his foot without hurry.

Flaming Dragon Punch.

Caught utterly off guard, the half-giant was blasted away at once. His massive body struck the ground with a heavy, ringing thud.

Veenig clearly had no intention of waiting for his opponent to rise. He hopped forward and drove a Heaven-Demon Empty Blade Kick straight like a heavy crossbow bolt toward the half-giant’s heart.

“Catch...”

The giant gave a muffled cry, sweeping a hand across his chest in blind panic, but he failed to catch Veenig, only batting him aside.

Veenig rolled with the impact, dispersing the force, then rose and answered with a Burning Wave Fist.

The crimson force ignited the half-giant’s skin upon contact. A trace of savage delight surfaced in Veenig’s eyes. He brushed at his chest and interlocked his hands, making a sharp cracking sound.

“Again.” Veenig extended his right hand and crooked his little finger. Under the half-giant’s furious glare, Veenig began to jog toward him.

The half-giant roared and lashed out with both arms, but in the blink of an eye Veenig had vanished from sight.

Asura Warp.

Veenig had judged the distance perfectly. He reappeared precisely behind the half-giant, at the ideal range... and then, Massacre Spiral.

The hurricane-like onslaught unleashed a storm of slashing leg-blades, each current of force like a razor cutting the enemy to pieces.

The terrible whirlwind carried a faint, black-hole pull. Even the heavy half-giant was dragged toward Veenig’s assault, then cut apart by the blade of his feet again and again.

All of it took no more than two seconds. By the time Massacre Spiral ended, sixteen deep wounds had been carved into the half-giant’s back, and the torrent of blood had stained both Veenig and the ground beneath him a vivid scarlet.

“Splendid.” Veenig laughed aloud, his madness rolling outward like a tide, wordlessly pressuring his enemies.

Yet the half-giant did not die.

Veenig narrowed his eyes and studied the staggering giant as he forced himself upright. His Eye of Insight dissected every muscle and nerve of the opponent without mercy, as though stripping the man bare and laying him open before Veenig’s gaze.

That immense humiliation shattered the half-giant’s last psychological defenses. His glowing eyes burned brighter, turning red.

At the same time, his skin began to redden as well, faint scale-like patterns surfacing across it.

“Now that’s interesting. Now that’s fun. Hahahahaha!” Veenig roared with laughter.

Analysis complete.

These two half-giants were the Holy Bell Cult’s newest creations, or rather, Nuah’s latest work. They possessed a portion of giant blood, and thus were born with enormous frames and extraordinary strength. Through genetic modification, Nuah had awakened that giant blood, making those advantages even more pronounced. At the same time, his alterations had fused in traits from reptiles, granting them stronger vitality and regenerative power.

In Veenig’s eyes, they were little different from two flesh-and-blood tanks. Their defense and offense were both formidable; the only weakness was their lack of agility, but that was hardly a serious flaw before sufficiently overwhelming attack and defense.

All they needed to do was charge through the enemy’s attacks, seize the foe, and tear them to shreds. Technique? Unnecessary.

This was Nuah’s aesthetics of violence.

“Truly Nuah, truly one of the Krigar who threatened the gods with science,” Veenig mused.

He stamped down and crossed his hands before his chest, staring fixedly at the half-giant charging toward him.

A Dark Wave Fist surged forth, the black force slamming into the half-giant’s face, only to be forced apart as he barreled through it.

To explain it in game terms, this was “super armor.” In this state, the half-giant was not easily interrupted by attacks, nor easily halted, nor easily knocked down; like a tank, he simply pressed through enemy offense to reach the proper range and unleash his formidable attack power.

Unluckily for him, his opponent was Akuma.

The reason Akuma’s combat rating stood so high was that he possessed top-tier mobility among all characters in the Street Fighter system, along with attack power superior to most. Of all that Veenig valued in him, it was not his ultimate strike, the Raging Demon, but the instant-repositioning Asura Warp.

Asura Warp.

Appearing behind the half-giant once more in an instant, Veenig bared his teeth in a cruel smile, brought both hands together, and thrust them forward violently.

Massacre Wave Fist.

The half-giant seemed to have grown accustomed to this move. Without even turning, he hurled a punch backward. That punch collided directly with Massacre Wave Fist, erupting in a silent surge of rolling shock.

Veenig sprang upward at once, flipping as he landed upon the half-giant’s head.

Hundred Demon Assault, Hundred Demon Smash.

A massive force struck the half-giant’s crown, then coiled around his waist and, using the giant’s own body weight, drove him crashing heavily into the ground with a deafening boom.

This blow was likely even more damaging than if Veenig had struck him with a straight Massacre Rising Dragon Fist.

The half-giant shook his head and tried to rise from the ground, but Veenig clearly had no intention of allowing that.

He stepped forward and slowly swung his palm down.

Skull-Crushing Shell Splitter.

My hand hurts...

Veenig bared his teeth, astonished by the hardness of the half-giant’s skull.

Still, the half-giant would have been equally astonished by Veenig’s attack power, if only he were still conscious.

Veenig had no intention of waiting for him to wake. Now was the perfect moment for a finishing blow. So then...

Phantasm Annihilation, Diamond-Rending Country Splitter.

The rising black force fused with Akuma’s ultimate killing intent wave, as though the entire world had collapsed in that instant. This unadorned finishing blow gathered all of Veenig’s power into one point, erupting from the earth with explosive violence. Concentrated into a space less than a square meter wide, its ferocity could only be imagined.

Even a half-giant of extraordinary constitution and astonishing regenerative ability could do nothing but be torn to pieces by that strike. Flesh and blood sprayed everywhere, painting Veenig completely red in a ghastly shower.

Veenig let out a sharp, sinister grin and lifted his eyes toward the other half-giant.

That one had already fully awakened his giant blood and was charging this way in a monstrous form.

Half-giants were poor at coordination. If they attacked together, they might wound one another by mistake, so they preferred to fight separately.

Their long, powerful arms and defenses like living walls of flesh meant they did not fear group battles. On the contrary, what they feared most were opponents like Akuma, whose strengths lay in high mobility and crushing offense.

However, this half-giant was stronger than the last.

Before Veenig could make a move, Sophie could restrain herself no longer. She stepped forward, drew her sword, and struck.

Thirty-two Forms: Collapse Gate.

“Hey, Sophie, stealing my business like that isn’t very nice,” Veenig said with a grin, dismissing the construct.

He panted lightly and crooked a finger. The wolf-lass understood at once, unfastened the little canteen at her waist, and tossed it over. It was a mercury canteen, deliberately carried by the others for emergencies, a reserve for just such moments.

Veenig stepped back a few paces, watched the two locked in fierce combat, then turned his gaze to the others near the Thief Prince.

Those people clearly understood the half-giant’s tendency to hit allies by mistake, and they prudently remained where they were. Veenig had been about to move in against them when the wolf-lass beat him to it.

Arkana Fangs, Rapid Charge.

The little one cried out in exhilaration and pounced like a bolt through the air, changing direction with nimble twists to avoid the enemy’s arrows and sword strikes before crashing into the crowd, where claw-shadows flashed like lightning and blood blossomed at once.

She possessed an innate instinct for slaughter, one swifter than her own thoughts, sparing her the need to learn techniques in any deliberate way. It was as though simply following that instinct allowed her to achieve the best effect, the highest efficiency.

The efficiency of killing.

“Hey, hey, you lot...” Veenig scratched his head and glanced about, counting the seconds.

Sophie’s greatsword had always been upright and direct. Even when her opponent was far stronger, she would not retreat or dodge, but would meet force with force, stroke by slow stroke, slash by slash, thrust by thrust.

Was that mindless? No. Sophie’s technique lay in the skill of applying force through the sword itself, using the strength of her whole body to oppose an arm of the enemy, each strike landing in the hardest place for the opponent to exert strength.

Sophie’s own strength was greater than that of ordinary people. Although a half-giant’s fists and kicks carried earth-shattering, stone-splitting power, Sophie’s subtle force made it seem as if she possessed equally terrifying strength.

Great skill appears clumsy. Sophie did not know that saying. She simply disdained learning the ever-changing little tricks Veenig favored, and instead kept to a knightly creed. All her technique was quietly fused into the sword in her hand, into her entire body.