Days had passed since Hujiro Hanma parted ways with Veldora. With nothing but the wilderness as his companion, he journeyed deeper into the primal belly of the Jura Forest—a place teeming with magic beasts, spirits, and hidden tribes. He needed no compass, no supplies, and no shelter. Yujiro hunted with his bare hands, tearing through monstrous creatures like they were paper.
He roasted dire wolves on open flames, ripped tree trunks for firewood, and slept in the rain like it was a gentle breeze. And yet, he remained unscathed.
The forest began to whisper about the man with no aura… the beast in human skin.
The ground was harder here. Footprints faded faster. The trees bent respectfully at the edges of an ancient, walled settlement—an Ogre Village, isolated yet disciplined. Towering spires of stone and sturdy wood fencing enclosed the settlement.
At the front stood two ogre guards, armored in light leather and carrying twin-bladed polearms. They were vigilant, their crimson skin gleaming with the sheen of trained warriors.
Then… they saw him.
A lone man. Shirtless. Muscular beyond comprehension. His shoulders were massive, wide as gates. His back flexed with each step like coiled cords of steel. There was no magic aura, no spiritual energy, no demonic pressure… and yet, their instincts screamed louder than any detection skill could.
Guard 1 (startled):
"H-Hey! You there! Stop! State your business!"
Guard 2 (eyes narrowing):
"A human? In here? With no escort? Jura Forest isn't your backyard, human."
Yujiro didn't stop. He walked calmly, barefoot, smirking with an expression that danced between curiosity and disdain.
Yujiro (in his gravelly, calm tone):
"So who are you?."
Guard 1 (brows furrowing):
"What?"
Yujiro (eyes flickering with mild interest):
"What… are you?"
Guard 2 (confused):
"We're ogres! A proud warrior race! What kind of question is that?!"
Yujiro's smirk grew, now showing faint amusement.
Yujiro:
"Warrior race, huh… Then I have one question."
Guard 1:
"And what's that?"
Yujiro (taking a step forward):
"Who's the strongest in your village?"
The guards exchanged glances. This was no ordinary traveler. There was something primal about him. No spell, no aura—but the weight of his being bore down on them like a crushing sky.
Guard 2 (cautiously):
"That would be our chief… but you can't just—"
Yujiro didn't wait. He walked past them like wind parting leaves.
Guard 1 (gritting teeth):
"Hey! You can't enter like that!"
But then it hit them—a presence, suffocating and thunderous. Their legs stiffened. Their instincts, trained through war and blood, screamed:
"DO NOT PROVOKE THIS BEING."
Guard 2 (whispering, sweat beading):
"What… is this guy…?"
Guard 1 (gulping):
"He's not magic… but he feels like a walking calamity."
As Yujiro disappeared through the main gate, the guards rushed back into the village.
The alarm was raised. Drums of alert thundered through the ground. Ogres—warriors, hunters, elders, and spellcasters—rushed out of their homes, gathering in the central square. Mothers held their children back. The elite fighters lined up, polearms, blades, and fists ready.
And then they saw him.
Yujiro Hanma, standing alone in the center of the village. Surrounded by at least forty ogres. Still smirking. Still calm.
Ogre Warrior:
"Is this the intruder? He doesn't look like anything special…"
Ogre Mage (eyes wide):
"But I can't read any magicule signature from him…"
Ogre Elder (stepping forward):
"You. Human. What is your purpose here?"
Yujiro:
"I heard you're warriors. I came to see it for myself. I want to know—what strength lives here?"
Ogre Warrior (growling):
"You came here for a fight?"
Yujiro (shrugging):
"Call it… research."
Suddenly, a powerful voice boomed from a nearby temple-like structure.
???:
"Who dares bring chaos to my people?"
The crowd parted. The Ogre Chief stepped forward. A towering, battle-scarred warrior with ash-gray horns, draped in ceremonial fur, with a massive nodachi blade strapped to his back.
His aura was like a burning mountain—visible to those who could sense it.
Ogre Chief (walking calmly):
"You. Human. I am Goramu, Chief of this village. You entered our sacred ground without permission. Explain yourself."
Yujiro looked at him. The smirk never faded. But his eyes shifted—from amusement to recognition. Finally, something worth his time.
Yujiro:
"You're the strongest here?"
Goramu (sternly):
"I am."
Yujiro:
"Then fight me."
A ripple went through the ogres like a thunderclap. Weapons clattered. Mages gasped. Warriors clenched their fists in disbelief.
Goramu (raising an eyebrow):
"You enter our village, disrespect our gates, and now you demand a duel?"
Yujiro:
"indeed."
Goramu (squinting):
"You've got guts, I'll give you that… but I don't fight for show."
Yujiro (eyes narrowing):
"It's not for show. I want to test your 'warrior race' claim. Show me… the true strength of ogres."
Goramu stared. He could feel something now. A tension in the air not caused by mana—but by presence. Like standing near a predator whose kill count couldn't be measured.
Goramu (after a pause):
"Very well. A duel, then. In the stone circle. You'll get your fight, human."
Yujiro:
"Name's Yujiro Hanma. Remember it."
Goramu:
"We'll see if you earn the right to make me."
The stone circle in the heart of the ogre village was alive with heat and breath—sunlight slicing through the forest canopy, dust floating in the air, and tension crackling like a thunderstorm ready to break.
Dozens of ogres circled the platform. Some sat on stone slabs, others stood with arms folded, their red skin glowing in the light. The ogre children peeked from rooftops. Even the village's spiritual elder emerged, sensing something unusual about this duel.
At the center of it all, Yujiro Hanma stood tall. Shirtless, bare-footed, and calm as still water.
Carved from war. Forged in chaos. And born of madness.
Across from him, stood Chief Goramu. Towering, armored in bone-plated leather, wielding an ancestral nodachi enchanted with crimson runes.
Goramu (gruffly):
"You are brave, human. But foolish. You have no aura. No magic. No weapon. What gives you the right to challenge me?"
Yujiro's smile was slow, arrogant, cruel. He tilted his head slightly, muscles rolling as he raised one arm and cracked his neck with a satisfying pop.
Yujiro (mockingly):
"Right? I don't need permission to stand above someone."
He took one step forward.
"And as for strength... you're just another warm-up."
The ogres grumbled—insults, laughter, scoffs.
But none could deny… that presence.
There was no magic, yet a pressure filled the air. Like the forest itself had gone still. Even the birds stopped singing.
The chief raised his blade with a growl.
Drumkeeper:
"BEGIN!"
Goramu rushed in, his blade slicing the air with a howl. A sideways cleave—meant to split the human in half.
Yujiro… didn't move.
At the last second, his torso twisted—an elegant half-rotation. The blade missed his skin by centimeters.
Yujiro (mocking):
"Too slow."
He stepped in and used a technique that looked so simple, it seemed foolish:
Bajiquan Elbow Smash—driving his elbow up into Goramu's chin.
CRACK!
The chief's head snapped back, blood spitting from his mouth as his body stumbled two steps back.
The crowd gasped. Not at the technique, but the arrogant grace in which Yujiro moved—like he wasn't fighting at all. Like he was playing.
Goramu growled and lunged again—swinging wildly with his blade and claws now.
Yujiro swayed left, then right—his feet dancing like water ripples.
Then—
Technique: "Kuzuryu Knee" – A crushing upward knee strike right to the sternum.
BOOM.
Goramu's armor dented inward, air violently expelled from his lungs.
He staggered. And Yujiro, in a flash, followed with—
Technique: "Thousand Demons Drop" – A modified judo shoulder throw with raw power.
SMASH!
The ogre chief was slammed spine-first into the stone, the whole platform shuddering from the force.
Yujiro stepped back, standing over him with his arms folded behind his back.
Yujiro (smirking):
"This is what you call a chief? Where's your 'warrior race' pride now?"
The ogres stared in silence, unsure if they were witnessing humiliation or legend.
Goramu stood slowly, wiping blood from his mouth. He was burning with rage—but now, also something else.
Fear.
Still, he roared and activated his trump card.
His True Form.
Magic engulfed his body. Muscles swelled. His skin darkened to obsidian. Runes crawled across his arms. His eyes burned crimson.
Goramu:
"I WILL CRUSH YOU!"
He charged with supernatural speed.
Blade slashed. Fists flew. Magic-enhanced strikes split the air. Yujiro deflected them all—not with barriers, but with his body.
Technique: "Tiger Palm Deflection"
Technique: "Reverse Elbow Counter"
Technique: "Dragon Whip Low Kick"
Each motion was calculated, precise, surgical.
Finally—Yujiro struck with intent.
"Enough."
Technique: "Heartquake Fist."
A fist landed square on Goramu's chest—no glow, no magic—but the impact was like a meteor.
CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.
Ribs shattered. Goramu was lifted off the ground and sent crashing into the duel ring's far wall, smashing it entirely. Stone and dust rained down as his body hit the ground.
He didn't rise.
Silence.
Nothing but the sound of wind.
Yujiro turned slowly to the crowd.
Yujiro (coldly):
"Understand this. I don't use tricks. I don't chant spells. I don't borrow strength from spirits or gods."
He raised a hand and clenched it into a fist.
"My strength is mine. My power… is absolute."
The ogres, wide-eyed, knelt one by one. Not out of fear.
But reverence.
Even the elder stood and bowed.
Ogre Elder (quietly):
"We… have witnessed a force beyond comprehension."
Yujiro exhaled slowly, muscles still flexed, body unmarred. Then, looking down at Goramu being carried by the others—
Yujiro (with a smirk):
"He's got potential. He'll live. Just needs to learn what it means to fight without leaning on borrowed power."
A young ogre stepped forward nervously.
Young Ogre:
"M-Mister Hanma… will you stay? Will you…
train us?"
Yujiro cracked a grin.
Yujiro:
"Hmph. I'll consider it. But first—get me something to eat. I've been killing boars for three days."