Ikra sprinted across the caverns, wasting no time trying to find anything that could get him closer to Ryu. After he finally got rid of Anora, he could act however he wanted.
Come on, Where are you?
Faces of the dead children he passed by stuck in his head. The thick stench of blood only worsened as he ventured on. He could feel his heart beat faster as the thought of Ryu meeting the same fate as them filled his mind.
Then he heard a sound. Ikra chased after the source, that sound could be his only chance of finding someone, finding his son.
As he went closer, he could see that it was someone huge. Their body was the size of a bodybuilder's, as he drew closer he could see exactly who it was.
Ikra stopped to take a good look at him, "Warhound" He could see the the fur on his body was stained with blood. He was holding the head of a child that was barely clinging to life.
Warhound looked at Ikra, he slammed the kids head in the ground before heading towards him.
Guess that's where the sound came from
"Before I beat the living hell out of you, does the name Ryu ring a bell?" He could tell that Warhound wasn't in his right mind, but he had to cling onto anything he could.
To his surprise however, Warhound stopped. "Ryu?" He took a moment to think about it, "That red haired kid?"
Warhound grinned from ear to ear, "He was strong" He remembered, "Too bad even with the help of his friends, he ended up losing"
Warhound laughed, it was so loud that it shook the loose rocks. Then he looked at Ikra, "Why, ya know him?"
Ikra stood silent, his expression blank. "Ah who cares" Warhound waved him off, "No use talking to a dead man" He extended his claws and swung his hand.
Ikra caught Warhound's arm, gripping it tight. He struggled as he tried to pull out his hand. "So he lost, huh?" Ikra tried to accept the fact, he imagined the person Warhound was smashing to the ground was Ryu.
He teared up at the thought of Ryu getting constantly battered by Warhound popped up in his mind. Warhound whimpered as he forcibly pulled him closer, his face meeting Ikra's fist
The pain lingered in his face as he tried to stay standing. It didn't scare Warhound however, it only enraged him further.
He lashed back at Ikra, using his massive physique to overpower him. Then, for another time, Ikra caught his arm.
"My son lost to a dog that can't even control himself" He asked himself, his voice heavy with disappointment.
He twisted Warhound's arm, then threw his knee at his stomach. Warhound fell down from the impact. "And I thought he was in danger" Ikra sighed, his worries were met with relief.
"Now I have to deal with you" Warhound felt a chill down his spine as Ikra looked at him. He has always, in some way, relied on his strength to get through everything. But with the man in front of him it became useless. Facing him, his instincts all told him one thing.
Run
Warhound ran away from Ikra, running towards the staircase to see if anyone else who could help him was there. The cowardly act surprised Ikra, "You stray dog" Anger filled his voice.
"You think I'll let you get away after kidnapping my son, then beating him up?" A purple flame surrounded him. A flowing line of the same color started to etch itself onto his skin. A small outline of a spirit could be seen entering his body, as if taking over.
"I'll be relying on you"
He said to himself before dashing towards Warhound. It took only moments before he would catch up, managing to grab the hair from the back of Warhound's hair.
"Sit"
He pulled his hair and flipped him over, smashing his entire body on the ground. Warhound's body became battered from the constant wounds that were inflicted by Ikra. It felt like forever for Warhound until he found a chance to escape.
He managed to push Ikra away, giving him enough time to run. "See ya later!" He sprinted around the corner, this time faster than before. He was already tired from the massacre, and the bruises from Ikra didn't help. His instincts told him that if Ikra manages to catch him again, he would die.
Where the hell are the others?
Warhound always had a strong spirit from birth, he had the determination and strength of a finger. But there was one thing that prevented him from becoming a true warrior, a wall that he could never overcome.
He treated fighting like a game, having fun with the thrill and excitement. The tension and uncertainty on who would end up victorious, it was addicting.
But never in his life had he been faced with a power so strong, an opponent who had the skill to back up his attitude.
He had yet to face death in a fight.
He wasn't like this before however. He had the makings of a warrior. Determination, Vigor, and Resilience, he naturally had them. Among his peers, he was the one who would stand out as strong.
But things change.
"Doggy!" Ikra shouted, "It's time to play!" He sped across the caverns like a bullet, effectively mapping out the area along the way. For him, this wasn't a battle against Warhound but a battle against time.
Ikra's power was different. Unlike others, it wasn't exactly his. The power he had was from one of his many ancestors, known for the dangerous technique that allowed him to go way beyond speed that humans were capable of.
As he came from a lineage of martial artist practitioners, he was able to use any of the martial arts that they honed to perfection. As long as he knows of their legacy, Ikra was able to use his power to make them descend down and lend their power to him.
Although this may seen like a powerful ability, it comes with many flaws. One of them has caused him a lot of difficulty.
While others were already finding ways to utilize their power, Ikra had to continue his training. There are no shortcuts in martial arts. He had to make sure his body could handle the arts before using it. If not, the consequences would be severe.