Chapter 12: A Demon for his enemies

Hayato relied on hit-and-run tactic to whittle down their numbers, striking at the edges of their formation or targeting anyone who strayed too far from the group. His strategy was simple yet effective—ensure a swift takedown and always leave an open path for escape.

The group of men, though not entirely foolish, attempted to counter by tightening their formation, reducing the gaps he could exploit. However, Hayato adapted quickly. Whenever they started to spread out, he'd feint a frontal charge, only to retreat at the first sign of movement and target their flanks once more. And if they stubbornly held their formation, he'd simply go after the one standing at the front, creating an opening regardless of their efforts.

They weren't completely passive, either. They tried to fight back—dodging, throwing punches and kicks—but against Hayato's superior weaponry, they were at a severe disadvantage. Wielding a pair of crowbars, he used one to deflect their attacks and the other to strike back. Even when they tried to evade, the reach of his weapons ensured they couldn't escape unscathed.

Their fatal error was underestimating him, assuming that a lone high school student would be an easy target. Coming at him barehanded was a mistake they would regret their entire life.

Hayato had already taken down more than half of them, leaving only fifteen still standing. However, his body was nearing its limit. While his hit-and-run tactics had been highly effective, they demanded constant movement, and the strain was finally catching up to him. He was exhausted after luring them to this point, his breath ragged and his muscles screaming for rest.

But it didn't matter—not anymore. With their numbers reduced to this meager amount, a smirk tugged at Hayato's lips. This was a manageable fight now, one he could take head-on if it came down to it. As long as things didn't take a sudden turn, he was confident that victory was within his grasp.

Meanwhile, Sudo was trembling in disbelief, beads of sweat dripping down his face as he watched the scene unfold from a safe distance. "W-What the hell is going on?" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. The once-overwhelming group of thugs he had gathered—paid for with a hefty sum—was now reduced to a pathetic sight.

Men lay scattered across the ground, groaning in agony. Some had fractured bones, others had teeth knocked out, and a few were writhing in too much pain to even attempt to stand. The air was heavy with their collective suffering, a grim testament to Hayato's fighting capabilities.

Of the large group Sudo had brought, only fifteen remained standing, their faces pale and full of uncertainty. But as he watched, the fear in his chest tightened like a vice. At this rate, it wouldn't be long before those fifteen fell as well, and then... it would be his turn.

The thought sent a chill down his spine, and his body reacted instinctively. He took a hesitant step back, his mind consumed with the horrifying question of what Hayato would do to him once his number come.

"Sudo, I'm here!" a voice called out, drawing everyone's attention as a man pulled up on a motorcycle. Relief washed over Sudo's face at the sight of his arrival.

The moment some of his men had fallen to Hayato earlier, Sudo had instantly realized his mistake—coming unarmed was a fatal blunder. Without wasting time, he'd called someone to bring weapons, and now, his reinforcements had arrived.

"You guys, take these!" Sudo shouted, throwing a bundle of wooden baseball bats onto the ground. The remaining men wasted no time, quickly grabbing one each, their confidence visibly returning now that they were armed.

Hayato's breath hitched as he watched the shift in the situation. His earlier advantage was gone. Now, he is at a disadvantage—or perhaps worse. From this point forward, everything would rely on his pure combat skills. Every technique he had learned, every ounce of experience he had gained, and every bit of determination he could muster would now be tested in full.

Hayato adjusted his grip on the crowbars, shifting them from their usual iron rod stance to a tonfa-like position. The new hold allowed him to focus more on defense, shielding himself from the incoming attacks. He knew he didn't have the stamina left to keep running, and with the men now armed with wooden baseball bats, a single solid hit would be game over for him.

Sweat dripped down his brow as he steadied his breathing, his muscles tense and ready. If he was going to survive this, he needed to stay sharp and rely on precise movements. Every block, counter, and strike had to count.

Emboldened by their newfound weapons, Sudo's men wasted no time. They charged at Hayato, spreading out to attack him from all directions. The air was thick with the sound of their footsteps and the crackling tension of the impending fight.

Hayato's eyes darted across the group, tracking each movement with precision. The first man leapt at him, swinging his baseball bat with full force. Hayato's left arm shot up, using the crowbar to block the heavy strike. The force of the blow pushed him back slightly, his knee buckling for just a moment. But he didn't have time to dwell on it—another swing came almost instantly in the same manner, and Hayato raised his right hand, to block it.

But staying on that position wasn't an option. Hayato could already feel the pressure building. He couldn't afford to remain in a static position for even a second. Without hesitation, he lowered his hand and shifted his weight, sliding to the back and executing a swift side kick.

The move was so fast that the man attempting to attack from behind had no time to react. Hayato's foot struck him square in the chest, sending him stumbling backward. But the kick alone wasn't enough to bring him down. Hayato immediately followed up with a flying knee, his leg driving upward and slamming into the man's face with brutal force.

The sickening crunch of teeth met his ears as the man crumpled to the ground, unconscious before he even hit the floor.

Almost as soon as his feet touched the ground, Hayato instinctively bent backward, narrowly avoiding a bat that swung inches away from his face. Time seemed to slow as he watched the weapon miss by a hair's breadth.

Drawing on the flexibility he had been honing during his morning exercises, Hayato planted both hands on the ground and, with a fluid motion, executed a perfectly timed backflip kick. His foot connected with the back of another attacker's head, the force of the blow driving the man forward.

The unfortunate thug didn't even have time to react as his face slammed into the ground with a sickening impact.

Hayato braced himself as two more attacks came from both sides, raising his crowbars to block the simultaneous strikes. Before he could recover, another attacker aimed for his legs with a swing from below. Reacting instantly, Hayato leaped into the air, spreading his legs wide to deliver a double kick to the men on either side.

Though the kick lacked enough force to knock them down, it gave Hayato the opening he needed to create some distance. As he landed, he swiftly sidestepped, narrowly avoiding another bat that whizzed past his face.

The attacker, unable to stop his swing midway, left himself wide open. Hayato didn't waste a second, slamming the side of his crowbar into the man's spine. The blow made the man stagger forward, bending over in pain. Without hesitation, Hayato drove his knee upward, smashing it into the man's face with brutal precision. The sickening crunch of cartilage confirmed that his nose was undoubtedly broken.

Hayato twirled the crowbars skillfully, their metallic glint reflecting the dim light, a clear display of his mastery over the makeshift tonfas. The sight alone was enough to send a shiver down the spines of Sudo's remaining men. Despite now being armed, nothing had changed—their numbers continued to dwindle as Hayato systematically took them down, one by one.

Some of them, desperate or stubborn, attempted to rise again, only to be met with another bone-crushing blow that ensured they stayed down for good. Eventually, only one man remained standing, trembling as he stared at the unyielding figure before him. His fear was palpable—how could a single first-year high school student armed with nothing but a pair of crowbars unleash such devastation?

Hayato spun the crowbars again, the ominous sound of metal slicing through the air further rattling the last man. Driven by fear-fueled adrenaline, the man let out a desperate cry and charged at Hayato. He swung his bat with all his strength, but Hayato sluggishly sidestepped the attack, his movement almost deliberate.

'Gotcha!' the man thought, a glimmer of hope flickering in his eyes as he launched a kick from the other side. The kick connected, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he had won. But that hope quickly turned to terror as he realized the truth.

Hayato had caught his leg with his arm, gripping it tightly. Before the man could react, Hayato struck his hand with a crowbar, forcing him to drop the bat. Now defenseless and off-balance, he was completely at Hayato's mercy.

Hayato raised his free hand, and the man instinctively brought both arms up in an X to shield his face. But the anticipated blow never came. Instead, Hayato's foot slammed into the man's side with brutal force, targeting his ribs. The impact sent him sprawling to the ground as Hayato released his leg.

The man groaned in pain, clutching his side, but Hayato wasn't finished. Without a word, he raised his foot and brought it down in a vicious stomp to the man's stomach. The sheer force knocked the air out of his lungs.

Thud!

The sound of a body hitting the ground reverberated through the battlefield, followed by a moment of eerie silence amidst the symphony of groans and cries of pain. It was Sudo. His legs had given out as he watched his last man fall.

More than thirty men had stood against Hayato. While they weren't elite fighters, most were seasoned adults who had made their living through violence. Yet now, every single one of them lay defeated, groaning in agony or unconscious, sprawled across the ground like discarded trash.

Sudo's heart pounded in his chest as he took in the horrifying sight. A single high school student stood in the center of it all, his figure bloodied and disheveled. Hayato's messy hair clung to his face, and his school uniform was stained with blood—not of his own. The image was nothing short of terrifying, as if a demon had manifested to deliver judgment.

Tears streamed down Sudo's face as the reality of his situation hit him. He gritted his teeth in a futile attempt to suppress his fear. The man he had sent to fetch the baseball bats was nowhere to be seen—he had fled long ago, leaving Sudo behind to face the nightmare alone.

Hayato tilted his head slightly backward, turning his weary gaze toward Sudo. His body looked drained, his movements sluggish, yet his resolve was unbroken. His piercing eyes locked onto Sudo, who immediately recoiled in terror.

The moment their eyes met, Sudo's entire body shook. "YOU MONSTER!" he screamed, stumbling as he tried to rise. Desperation overtook him as he broke into a frantic sprint, his only thought being to escape.

But before he could get far, the sound of metal slicing through the air filled his ears. A crowbar came flying, striking the back of his knee with precision. Sudo let out a choked scream as his legs buckled, sending him crashing face-first into the dirt.

Turning over in a panic, Sudo looked back to see Hayato slowly approaching him. His movements were sluggish, his body swaying with exhaustion. Yet the determination in his eyes was unrelenting. He looked like a man running on sheer willpower alone, his body screaming for rest while his mind forced it to continue.

He still had one last job to finish.

"No! Stay away! Don't come near me!" Sudo shouted, his voice trembling as he began to drag himself backward, clawing at the ground in desperation.

No matter how desperately Sudo clawed at the ground, his escape came to an abrupt halt as his back hit a tree. The bark pressed against him as though sealing his fate. His wide, tear-filled eyes trembled in terror as Hayato loomed closer.

Despite his exhaustion, Hayato crouched in front of Sudo, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his head up, forcing the two to lock eyes. His breath was ragged, his body barely holding itself together.

"Where... do you... think... you're going?" Hayato rasped, his voice hoarse yet dripping with an edge that sent chills down Sudo's spine.

With a strained motion, Hayato reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He held it up, showing it to Sudo, accompanied by a friendly smile—a smile that, despite its surface appearance, carried no warmth. Instead, it was laced with malice, an expression that seemed to promise nothing good. "We... still have... something... to talk... about."

"You bastard! Let me go— Umff!" Sudo's protests were cut short as Hayato's fist buried itself in his gut, forcing a sharp gasp and a pained cough out of him. Before Sudo could recover, Hayato gripped his hair tighter and began dragging him away, his steps sluggish but purposeful.

By the time they stopped, they were far from the groaning bodies of Sudo's men. It was just the two of them now, under the dim light of the moon. Sudo found himself tied to a tree, his hands bound tightly behind him. His struggles were futile against the knots Hayato had secured with grim determination.

"Now, Sudo," Hayato said, his voice still hoarse, though his exhaustion has decreased only slightly. He crouched in front of Sudo, holding up his phone with the screen illuminated, the voice recorder app already open. "You will tell what i ask."

Sudo glared at him, defiant for a moment, but the fire in his eyes quickly fizzled out when Hayato's fist slammed into his gut once more. He doubled over as much as the bindings would allow, saliva dripping from his mouth as he coughed and wheezed.

"I'm sorry!" Sudo sobbed, his voice breaking as tears streamed down his face. "Please spare me! I'll move out of the city! I swear I'll never come within your sight again!"

Another punch landed squarely in Sudo's gut, forcing him to choke out a pained gasp. Hayato was careful, though; every hit was calculated—to not leave any visible marks or knock him out, but just enough to break his spirit and keep him conscious. Grabbing a fistful of Sudo's hair, Hayato yanked his head up, forcing their eyes to meet.

"You think I'm an idiot who'd listen to your sob pray?" Hayato growled, his voice low and dangerous. He slammed his fist into Sudo's stomach again, earning a broken cry from the trembling boy. "Listen carefully," he continued, his voice sharp and menacing, "my mind is already on edge. Don't make this harder for me, or I honestly don't know what I'll do."

Hayato's piercing, predatory gaze bore into Sudo's terrified eyes, making him feel smaller than ever. Sudo frantically nodded, his lips quivering as tears streamed down his face.

"Good." Hayato's voice was icy now, calm but suffused with an underlying intensity. He crouched down, his phone still recording, and spoke with deliberate clarity. "Now, start talking. How many illegal businesses does your family run? Where does your old man hide his black money? And what major crimes has he committed up to now? Don't you dare leave out a single detail."

Sudo's eyes widened further, his fear now eclipsing even the searing pain in his gut. His mind raced, desperately trying to piece together how Hayato could possibly know about his family's dirty dealings. He gulped audibly, his entire body trembling like a fragile leaf caught in a violent storm.

Hayato, sensing the rising dread in his prey, leaned in closer, his lips curling into a broad, predatory grin that sent a shiver down Sudo's spine. "What's wrong?" Hayato asked, his tone mockingly gentle, dripping with venom. "Don't you like being in the spotlight? That's why, I've got the perfect role for you. Picture this—" he gestured theatrically with his free hand.

"A righteous son," Hayato began, his voice laced with dark amusement, "who couldn't bear to tolerate the corruption in his family. After discovering his father's heinous crimes, he decides to do the unthinkable—to free his family from the chains of sin and stop them from hurting society ever again. And how does he do it?" Hayato waved his phone in front of Sudo's teary eyes. "By recording his heartfelt confession and entrusting it to his most trusted friend to deliver to the police."

The grin on Hayato's face widened into something monstrous, his eyes gleaming with a cruel light. "Don't you think that would make for a spectacular story? The headlines would sing your praises, Sudo. 'The Heroic Son Who Sacrificed Everything for Justice.' Your name will plastered across the front pages. Fame. Glory. Admiration. Isn't that what you've always wanted?"

Sudo's entire body shook violently now, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. That grin on Hayato's face—it wasn't human. It was the smile of a demon.

For the first time, Sudo fully understood the weight of his mistake. He had poked a demon far more dangerous than he could have imagined. And now, staring into the abyss that was Hayato's eyes, he knew his life was over from this point.