Villain Origin : Every Crime I Commit Helps Me Level Up-Chapter 31: Battle at the Dock

The dock transformed into a crucible of raw, unbridled combat. What began as a strategic dance of technique devolved into a brutal, primal exchange of devastating blows. Hawk and Marcus, two warriors steeped in extraordinary martial disciplines, now engaged in a fight that transcended conventional combat.

Marcus’s Weightless Force technique manifested in ways that defied physical logic. His body became a living weapon, each movement a calculated manipulation of kinetic energy. The Mujūryokuken—a secret art passed down through generations of warrior-monks—allowed him to transmit force with terrifying precision.

A phantom strike erupted from Marcus’s hand. No full contact was made, yet Hawk was violently thrust backward, as if struck by an invisible hammer. The dock’s wooden planks splintered beneath the impact, a testament to the technique’s devastating power.

"You’re still nothing," Marcus taunted, his voice a cold whisper cutting through the night. "Did you really think those cheap gauntlets would level the playing field?"

Hawk’s Adrenaline Mastery kicked into overdrive. His body, a finely tuned instrument of combat, processed the pain as fuel. Where a normal fighter would have been incapacitated, Hawk’s Senkika—his War Demon Transformation—converted the brutal strike into pure, explosive potential.

’Twenty-three minutes,’ Hawk’s mind calculated with surgical precision. ’Just need to hold out.’

The Iron Shell technique of Marcus’s Weightless Force became apparent. Hawk’s subsequent strikes seemed to ripple and dissipate against Marcus’s body, as if striking a living storm. Muscles tensed and relaxed with impossible control, redirecting and absorbing impact in ways that defied human physiology.

Marcus shifted, his body moving with a fluidity that suggested he was more energy than matter. "The Void Gate technique," he explained, more to himself than to Hawk, "is about understanding that weight is nothing more than a perception. Once you break that perception, you become something more than human."

Another phantom strike. This time, Hawk anticipated it. His gauntlets pulsed with an internal energy, creating a momentary shield. The kinetic force split around him, wooden planks on either side exploding from the redirected energy.

"Impressive," Marcus admitted, a rare hint of genuine respect cutting through his contempt. "But impressive isn’t enough."

The fight intensified. Marcus began to showcase the full breadth of his Weightless Force technique. His body became a conduit of pure kinetic manipulation. Strikes came from impossible angles—behind Hawk when Marcus stood in front, above when he should have been to the side.

Hawk’s Pain Resistance Drills proved their worth. Each brutal impact that would have shattered a normal human’s bones became fuel for his Adrenaline Mastery. His body learned, adapted, transformed the pain into raw combat potential.

"Your training is impressive," Marcus taunted, "but it’s built on a foundation of street-level survival. The Gōkanryū training I’ve undergone is millennia old. It’s not just a fighting technique—it’s a complete understanding of human potential."

A series of strikes demonstrated Marcus’s point. His body moved like liquid mercury, weight becoming an abstract concept. Phantom impacts sent Hawk sliding across the dock, each strike carrying the accumulated wisdom of generations of warrior-monks. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

Hawk’s Fight-or-Flight Override kept him focused. Fear became a distant concept. Each moment was pure combat, pure survival.

’Twenty minutes,’ Hawk’s mind calculated precisely. ’How long can I sustain this?’

Blood mixed with sweat. The dock became a canvas of their superhuman conflict. Cargo containers groaned. Metal supports bent. The very environment seemed to warp around their impossible battle.

Hawk’s gauntlets began to reveal their true potential. Each strike carried not just physical force, but a strange, vibrational energy that momentarily disrupted Marcus’s Weightless Force technique.

"Those aren’t ordinary weapons," Marcus observed, his technique momentarily faltering. "Where did you get them?"

Hawk’s response was a burst of pure adrenaline-fueled strength. His Power Output Discipline allowed him to release explosive energy without tearing his own muscles—a technique refined through countless hours of grueling training.

Their fists collided. The sound was not merely a punch, but a thunderclap of human potential.

Marcus’s Phantom Strikes continued to dominate. Each blow seemed to come from impossible angles, transmitting force without full contact. Hawk’s body became a canvas of brutal impact, his Adrenaline Mastery the only thing keeping him upright.

"Your Pain Resistance Drills are impressive," Marcus mocked, landing a series of strikes that would have shattered normal human bones. "But resilience isn’t victory. You’re just prolonging the inevitable."

The fight became a war of attrition. Marcus’s technique seemed to grow more refined with each passing moment. His body moved like liquid mercury, weight and motion becoming abstract concepts under his control.

Hawk’s thoughts raced. ’He’s using the Void Gate technique perfectly. Every strike—it’s like fighting something beyond human.’

A particularly devastating combination sent Hawk sprawling. Marcus stood over him, a predator observing his prey.

"This is what happens when amateurs challenge masters," Marcus said, his voice dripping with contempt. "Your boss should have kept you on a leash."

But Hawk wasn’t finished. His Senkika continued to burn, converting pain into pure combat potential. Each brutal strike from Marcus was another opportunity, another source of energy to be redirected.

The dock became their battlefield. Cargo containers creaked. Wooden planks splintered. The very environment seemed to bend around their superhuman conflict.

As the fight progressed, Marcus’s dominance became increasingly clear. His strikes became more calculated, more devastating. Hawk was being systematically broken down, his defenses slowly crumbling under the relentless assault.

Hawk’s response was a defiant growl, a pure manifestation of his War Demon Transformation. Blood streaming from multiple wounds, body battered but spirit unbroken.

The fight continued its brutal dance. Marcus’s Weightless Force technique seemed to defy the very laws of physics. Strikes came from impossible directions, kinetic energy manipulated with surgical precision.

"You’re learning," Marcus acknowledged, "but learning isn’t enough. True mastery requires something more—a complete understanding of your body’s potential."

Another series of phantom strikes. Hawk’s gauntlets sparked, creating momentary barriers of energy. But Marcus’s technique was evolving, finding new ways to penetrate his defenses.

"Time’s running out," Hawk thought, his mind calculating precisely. "I just need an opening, but he’s too fast for me to land a hit."

Hawk’s Adrenaline Mastery was pushed to its absolute limit. His body had become a living weapon, converting every moment of pain, every strike into pure combat potential.

The dock trembled beneath their conflict. Metal screeched. Wood splintered. Their battle had transcended mere physical combat, becoming a war of human potential.

The night was far from over. And their battle promised to reach heights of brutality yet unseen.

---

The dock erupted in chaos. Ken’s twin pistols blazed, each shot calculated and precise. The Solar Shade’s men swarmed like a relentless tide, their numbers overwhelming Ande’s small group. But what they lacked in quantity, Ande’s gang made up for in brutal efficiency.

Ken’s mind raced between the immediate battle and his concern for Hawk. ’I need to get to Marcus,’ he thought, ducking behind a cargo container as bullets whistled overhead. Each pull of the trigger was a symphony of controlled violence, buying precious moments of survival.

The training kicked in. Ande’s fighters moved with a synchronicity that defied their numerical disadvantage. Ken’s eyes constantly scanned the battlefield, searching for an opening that would let him break away and support Hawk.

’Just a little longer,’ Ken calculated, his twin pistols painting a deadly arc of suppressing fire. ’Hold on, Hawk.’

---

Andre stood in front of the abandoned warehouse.

[SYSTEM ALERT]

> Vessel Signature Detected

> Proximity: 0.94 quill meters

> Signature Match: 87% — Possible Identity: Victor

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Called it. He’d predicted the system would flag nearby vessels if they drifted within range—and now it had. The confirmation wasn’t just satisfying; it was proof he was still two steps ahead.

The abandoned warehouse loomed like a forgotten titan, its skeletal structure a monument to industrial decay. Dust motes danced in the razor-thin shafts of light that cut through the darkness, illuminating a figure that seemed more phantom than man.

Victor stood at the far end of the entrance, a silhouette of calculated menace. His black suit hung with an almost liquid precision, sleek hair perfectly combed—a predator dressed in the skin of a corporate executive. One hand casually tucked into his pocket, he carried the weight of someone who knew exactly how deadly he could be.

"So you must be Victor," André declared, his voice a blade of pure contempt.

A moment of silence stretched between them. Victor’s eyes—cold, calculating—swept over André like a diagnostic scan. He looked less like someone preparing to fight and more like a scientist observing an interesting but ultimately disposable specimen.

"So you’re the Atlas’s son," Victor replied, each word dripping with a mixture of disdain and clinical interest. "Do you have any idea what you’re walking into?"

André’s lips curled into a sardonic smile. "I know exactly what I’m walking into."

"Marcus told me you’re a vessel like me," Victor remarked, amusement lacing his voice. "I see why you act like you’re untouchable... but let me share a little secret with you."

Victor’s voice became a low, dangerous whisper. "The reason you don’t see Vessels announcing themselves is simple—we eliminate them before they become a threat. Most are smart enough to hide. But you?" He took a step forward, darkness seeming to coil around him. "You’re walking straight into your own execution."

"Believe me," André shot back, a dangerous glint in his eye, "I’m not the one dying tonight."

The air itself seemed to change. A tension built—electric, predatory. André shifted, muscles coiling beneath his skin.

Victor didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

Then—a flash.

Faster than thought, a lance of pure light erupted from seemingly nowhere. It moved like liquid lightning, a blade of pure energy that slashed through the air toward André. He tilted his head at the last second—just enough. The weapon grazed his cheek instead of taking his head clean off. A thin line of blood slipped down his face, quiet proof that death had come within inches.

The warehouse echoed with the sharp crack of impossible velocity.

"What the f—" André stumbled, shock and pain momentarily stealing his breath.

Victor remained motionless, that same cold smile playing across his lips. "Welcome," he whispered, "to a world you’re not prepared for."