Cid - Stand Rush

A fist plows into Gettan’s gut, and when he lurches forward, he receives a knee strike to the torso.

And John Smith doesn’t let up there.

Nothing about his fists, elbows, or knees is special, yet they sink into Gettan’s body all the same. Gettan’s engorged flesh is getting tossed around like a toy.

A man’s body is his final, most reliable weapon…and John Smith is the embodiment of that ideal.

Gettan frantically tries to retreat and put some distance between himself and the whirlwind of blows.

Thanks to the pills, his body heals as soon as it takes damage. The storm won’t last forever, so all he has to do is weather it and get to safety, and—

John Smith, however, doesn’t stop.

With each step, he cuts off Gettan’s escape routes, and with each blow, he saps power from Gettan’s legs.

As he rains down the flurry of blows, he calculates and predicts Gettan’s every move. That’s how he continues his one-sided beatdown.

By keeping Gettan at point-blank range, he’ll always be in John Smith’s reach. No matter how his prey moves, he never lets it escape.

The dispassionate, almost mechanical beatdown continues.

“Gack… Gah-hah… Grah… Urk…”

Gettan’s bones break, his fangs snap, and his organs burst. They immediately regenerate.

The torture seems never-ending. The sprays of blood paint a macabre carpet atop the fallen snow.

Eventually, John Smith’s blows pick up in strength. They pick up in speed, too.

“You have something to tell me. Say it.”

“Gah… Hur-guh…”

John Smith’s words are accompanied by more blows.

Finally, Gettan reaches his limit.

The regeneration stops.

Seeing that, John Smith backs up half a step—then swings his right leg with all his might.

His foot slams into the side of Gettan’s skull, and the therianthrope collapses violently onto the snow.

As Gettan tries to get up, John Smith stamps down on his chest.

***

Volume 3, Epilogue