I was Thrown into an Unfamiliar Manga

Sakagami Maou flinched when he saw the mysterious figure emerging from the darkness.
The man was like a pillar.
With his face hidden under a khaki hoodie, it was obvious at a glance that he possessed an overwhelming physique.

So much so that his very presence seemed to change the air inside the building.
Quite literally—he was on another level.
Maou unconsciously wiped the sweat running down his jaw and muttered,

"So that Goto bastard was hiding a trump card like this all along?"
Perhaps just now noticing the man, Goto Kazuya shouted in surprise while grappling with his former underlings.
"Hyung-nim?!"

A man that even Goto Kazuya would call hyung-nim.
The only guess that came to mind was the former leader of Hyakki Yagyō—specifically, the legendary first-generation boss once called the Kirin of the Heisei era.
"Mishima Ryohei… is this the return of the living legend?"

"Who’s that?"
But the man in the hoodie tilted his head and denied Maou’s dramatic misguess.
"Kuh, then just who the hell are you?!"

Embarrassment overtook Maou belatedly, and he flushed red as he shouted. The hooded man scratched his head awkwardly, then pointed at Goto Kazuya still locked in a brawl with Mito.
"Let’s just say I know that guy."
The moment he heard that, Maou twisted his lips into a sneer and said,

"To take Goto’s side in this situation—pretty bold of you. Fine! I admire your guts, so I’ll make you an offer. Abandon Goto and come under me. I’ll give you the position of my right-hand man, destined to become the strongest biker gang in Tokyo."
Upon hearing that, Mito, still fighting with Goto, shouted,
"Hey! That’s not what you said!"
Maou barked back, flipping the blame without hesitation.

"Shut up! In Devil Riders, my word is law and justice!"
Hearing that, Goto Kazuya shouted,
"Hyung-nim! Don’t fall for that bastard’s sweet talk! He’s a villain who’ll do anything for his ambitions! Even if you help him, he’ll just toss you aside later!"

"Outsiders, shut up! I’m talking with this man right now!"
With that, Sakagami Maou extended his right arm toward the man who had silently listened to everything so far.
"Come on! What are you hesitating for? Join me, and become one corner of Tokyo’s strongest!"

Eventually—
The man, who had kept silent the whole time, finally spoke.
"Pathetic."

"…What?"
"You’re still stuck at the mental level of a middle schooler."
The hooded man said that flatly and took a step forward.

Thud──
"What exactly do you plan to do after becoming the strongest?"
"Power and authority will follow! And I’ll make everyone weaker than me kneel!"

Thud──
"But from an adult’s point of view, that’s just childish play. Right now, they’re turning a blind eye because your scale is small, but if you really unify Tokyo and your numbers swell from hundreds to thousands, do you think law enforcement will sit quietly?"
"Then I’ll just crush everyone who comes after us!"

Thud──
At that, the man chuckled coldly.
Then, with ice in his eyes, he asked Sakagami Maou,

"Are you an idiot who thinks you can win against someone holding a gun with your bare hands?"
"Ugh…"
He was at a loss for words.

Thud──
Indeed, there was no way a bike, a bokken, or a steel pipe could compete with a police-issued gun.
No matter how much they resisted, they’d eventually get caught.

That’s what it meant when adults fight children.
THUD──!!
The pillar-like man had approached Maou until they were nearly nose to nose.

"Let everyone here go. And I’m taking Goto with me. I’ve already made a prior arrangement."
Sakagami Maou, trying to save his last shred of pride, forced a cocky smile and asked,
"And what if I say no?"

The man slowly raised his head and glanced around.
Devil Riders.
An elite corps handpicked by Sakagami Maou, famed for his overwhelming charisma.

Excluding their leader with his shaggy hair, the 49 mohawk-sporting riders were intently listening to the two men’s conversation.
"If you say no,"
The man rubbed his neck as if it was a ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) bother and said,

"Then I’ll have to resort to violence."
That marked the signal.
The beginning of an unfair execution: 50 against 1.

***
"Hyah-ha! Trash needs to be disinfected!"
"What a moron! You think you can take on this many guys alone?!"

I calmly watched the dozens of motorcycles circling around me.
It was like something straight out of an old wuxia novel—a formation like the Shaolin Temple’s Concentric Array.
Even though they were riding wildly around me, none collided. They maintained perfect spacing as they spun in circles.

That kind of accuracy and synchronization couldn’t come from anything but obsessive practice.
Honestly, maybe these guys missed their calling and should’ve joined the circus instead of a biker gang.
Thinking what a waste of talent it was, I boldly stepped forward.

"Where do you think you're going!"
A chain whip came flying like a ghost.
Rather than dodging, I trusted the strength I had built up in my own muscles and extended my left arm.

Smack!
The heavy chain slammed into my forearm, but it was more bearable than I expected.
Before the chain could be reeled back, I coiled it around my arm and yanked.

The guy holding the chain lost his balance and flew right off his bike.
"Hold on tight! I’m not responsible if you fall!"
Shouting that, I began spinning my body using centrifugal force.

The guy, unable to touch the ground, became a human flail and started slamming into his own teammates.
Like a row of dominoes, bikes collapsed in waves.
Just like that, the 49-man mohawk formation was shattered instantly.

"No way! He’s swinging a person around with one hand!"
"That hyung-nim from the Two Demons—is he a monster?!"
After knocking over the surrounding bikes and forming a nice barricade, I gently let go of the guy I’d been swinging.

Maybe I spun him too much—he collapsed to the ground and started throwing up his guts.
Safe to assume he was no longer combat-capable.
Standing inside the ring-shaped coliseum made of bike wrecks, I gestured toward the remaining Devil Riders still intact.

"Step up if you wanna die first."
The Devil Riders hesitated, unable to cross the barricade of wrecked bikes.
At times like this, guts and courage were everything.

Compared to fighting professionally trained Russian soldiers like Boris, this fight felt like nothing.
Eventually, perhaps realizing time was being wasted, the bravest mohawk among them stepped over the wall first.
I was already prepared. I rushed in and threw a jab.

It was a move I’d eyeballed from Boris, Sasha’s bodyguard—a fast, efficient way to take down opponents in short bursts.
The jab landed squarely on his face, and the mohawk flew back, nosebleeding.
The next batch came—three this time.

I didn’t panic. I dodged backward, broke a wooden bat, struck a wrist to disarm a steel pipe.
With their weapons gone and confusion setting in, I gave each one a clean jab and knocked them out.
Grabbing the dazed ones by the collars, I tossed them at the guys sneaking up behind me.

Those guys instinctively tried to catch their flying comrades—giving me a blind spot to exploit.
I slipped into their blind zone and nailed them with a surprise lariat.
"Guh!"

My arm, trained to the extreme, was like steel. The ones who bounced back lifelessly were not me—but them.
Seeing eight men taken down in the blink of an eye, the Devil Riders started murmuring nervously.
Their leader, Sakagami Maou, screamed at the top of his lungs.

"You idiots! That hyung-nim guy is still human—he can’t fight everyone! Overwhelm him with numbers!"
Encouraged, the mohawks exchanged glances and then charged all at once.
They were now well past the coliseum’s capacity.

I was wondering how to escape this ring of mohawks closing in—when suddenly, a scream came from behind.
"GYAAAH!"
"Hyung-nim!"

Bleeding from the head, Goto appeared with Mito—now a lump of meat—in a chokehold in his left hand, swinging a bokken wildly in his right.
Apparently, it was a trophy from defeating Mito.
"Use this!"

The arrival of a backup ally at just the right moment—it was a scene right out of a manga.
Well, considering this was a manga world, I guess that made sense.
I caught the cleanly thrown bokken with one hand and glanced back.

"Thanks, Goto."
Goto turned his back, his black special uniform fluttering—embroidered with golden lettering of countless words.
And with a voice full of unshakable resolve, he declared,

"You must win."
Hearing that, I shifted the bokken in my hand into a proper two-handed grip.