One Punch Man in Baki's World

The deeper Baki moved into the underground labyrinth, the less the world above seemed real.

The air was thick with iron and mildew, and the silence was deceptive, more alive than quiet.

Every footstep echoed fivefold, bouncing off damp stone walls lined with rusted rebar.

The lights flickered inconsistently, wired by hands that had no intention of guiding. This wasn't a tunnel. This was a trap sculpted with a sadist's precision.

He glanced over his shoulder. Jack had been right behind him.

"Jack?" Baki called, his voice carrying but not returning.

Nothing.

Not even a breath of wind.

He narrowed his eyes and stepped cautiously forward. The path diverged ahead into three tunnels, each curving just slightly out of sight.

Baki paused, crouched, and placed his palm on the floor. Still warm, someone had passed recently. Likely Jack. Possibly not.

The moment he moved into the leftmost tunnel, a thick slab of metal dropped behind him with a thunderous clang.

A trapdoor.

Instantly, Baki spun, but the way was sealed. He struck it with a precise punch—no give. It was reinforced and designed to funnel him forward, deeper.

The hallway ahead glowed red. Warning lights?

No. It pulsed like a heartbeat. Like the walls themselves were breathing.

Then came the sound.

Not footsteps. Not claws. Not machines.

But laughter.

Not human. Not amused. More like something that had forgotten how to feel joy and was trying to mimic it anyway.

From the end of the corridor, two shadows emerged, both clad in black robes that clung like liquid muscle, faces half-hidden by metallic masks etched with unfamiliar kanji.

Their steps made no sound. Their presence swallowed what little space was left in the air.

Baki lowered into a stance.

They didn't introduce themselves. They didn't posture. They attacked in unison.

The first shadow launched forward with impossible speed, a punch flying toward Baki's throat.

He parried instinctively, only to feel a second strike land into his ribs, from the second attacker who had moved behind him without sound.

He stumbled back, gritting his teeth as he adjusted. These weren't ordinary martial artists.

They moved like predators that had studied prey too long.

Another flurry came, each strike coordinated between the two—one fast and evasive, the other heavy and unrelenting.

A dance of destruction. Baki blocked a kick, ducked under a punch, then twisted his body mid-air to avoid a knee aimed at his spine.

But they were adapting. With every move, the two shadows adjusted to his reflexes.

This wasn't a spar.

This was a hunt.

Baki grunted as one punch grazed his jaw and sent him spinning into the wall. Blood ran from his nose. He wiped it off with the back of his hand, panting.

"They're not just fighters," he whispered to himself. "They're mirrors. Copies. Designed to break me down."

One of the shadows tilted its head as if acknowledging the observation.

Then they moved again.

Baki growled and surged forward. If this was a trap… he'd break through it with sheer will. But for the first time in a long time, he felt something he hadn't in years—

Doubt.

And somewhere, deeper in the labyrinth, Jack Hanma froze… feeling nothing but the growing weight of absence.

The walls of the labyrinth trembled as Baki launched forward, unleashing a sweeping leg kick that barely missed its target.

One of the shadows leapt above it, spinning midair with the grace of a gymnast. The other darted to the side, circling like a predator as if syncing its heartbeat with Baki's rhythm.

They weren't just attacking randomly. They were calculating. Watching. Learning.

Baki wiped blood from his mouth and grinned, "You're not machines… but you sure fight like algorithms."

The one with the taller frame struck again. A forward elbow, aimed at Baki's jaw. He blocked with both arms, but the moment contact was made, the second shadow was already behind him, aiming for the same spot from the other direction.

Baki twisted.

The elbow missed his head but landed on his shoulder with a sickening crack. Pain screamed down his arm, numbing his left side for a moment.

No time to cry out.

The shorter shadow closed the distance, delivering a spinning low kick. Baki jumped over it, but midair, he saw the taller one coming in from above with a double axe-handle.

He crossed his arms.

WHAM!

The impact cratered the floor beneath him. The dust clouded everything for a moment. When it cleared, Baki was on one knee, panting. His back throbbed like it had been hit with a sledgehammer.

"You're fast," he growled. "But I've fought faster."

He sprang upward.

A knee drove into the chest of the shorter one, sending it flying into a pillar of steel. The sound of ribs snapping echoed through the chamber.

The other came from the side. Baki turned just in time to catch its punch with his right hand, gripping the wrist tight.

With a roar, he twisted—dislocating the shoulder, then flipped the figure over his back and into the steel wall. Metal bent. Sparks flew.

But Baki was heaving.

Blood stained his lips. His muscles were burning.

The shadows were getting up again.

The shorter one, bones audibly shifting as it stood. The taller one, already adjusting its dislocated arm with inhuman calm.

"I swear I'll destroy you and get back Kozue..." Baki whispered.

The two stepped back into position. No pain. No emotion. No speech.

Just war.

They came again. This time even faster. Each movement refined, learned from the last exchange. It was like fighting two versions of his past self—minus the humanity.

Baki blocked one strike, ducked another, kicked one back, only to receive a palm thrust to his diaphragm. He gasped. The air in his lungs fled.

Another fist came—right to the temple.

THWACK!

The world spun.

Darkness crept in around the edges of his vision.

I can't… keep up… too much damage...

He fell to one knee again.

The two shadows closed in.

But before they could strike the final blow—

A thunderous roar echoed through the corridor behind them.

A blur of muscle and rage tore through the smoke and smashed into the taller shadow like a missile.

The shorter one turned just in time to see a monstrous foot flying toward its face.

CRACK!

Both shadows were sent sprawling across the corridor like rag dolls.

Standing over Baki, fists clenched and breathing heavy, was Jack Hanma.

He didn't speak.

He didn't need to.

His knuckles answered for him.

"You looked like you could use some help."

Baki coughed blood and laughed.

"I had them right where I wanted them…"

Jack grinned, stepping forward.

The two shadows rose again—limping now, slower, but still willing.

Jack cracked his neck.

"Then let's finish it. Together."

The steel corridor echoed with the heavy thuds of boots and bare feet as Jack stepped forward, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Baki.

For a moment, nothing moved. The two shadows adjusted, their fractured limbs resetting with sickening clicks.

Jack's eyes narrowed.

"These things," he muttered, "aren't just fighters. They're engineered."

Baki nodded, wiping blood from his mouth. "Kurozuchi didn't just train them. He built them."

The shadows came in without warning, attacking in tandem, one from the front, the other from behind.

Jack reacted with feral speed, meeting the taller one head-on with a brutal knee that collapsed its jaw inward. He didn't stop, grabbing the shadow midair and swinging it like a club toward its partner.

The second caught its comrade in mid-trajectory, adjusted, and vaulted over Jack, aiming a spinning back kick at Baki.

But Baki was already moving.

He ducked low, swept the shadow's leg mid-spin, and followed with a rising elbow to the sternum. The impact caved in part of its chest, forcing a mechanical wheeze from the figure.

The brothers moved like a pair of berserker wolves now—Jack with his raw, brute-force savagery. Baki with surgical precision and adaptability. The corridor became a war zone of fists, kicks, broken steel, and blood.

One of the shadows tried to retreat.

Jack caught its arm and ripped it from the socket.

"Not this time," he snarled.

The other came for Baki with a flying knee, Baki sidestepped and redirected it into a pillar, snapping its leg at the shin.

For the first time, the shadows hesitated.

Baki stepped beside Jack.

"Now."

Together, they attacked. Jack delivered a spine-shattering punch that launched the taller shadow into the air, and mid-air, Baki leapt—driving both feet into its chest and slamming it into the floor hard enough to crater it.

The last shadow tried to run.

Jack wouldn't allow it.

He chased, grabbed it by the head, and slammed it against the wall repeatedly until it stopped moving.

Baki leaned over, gasping for breath. Blood trickled down his side, his legs shaking.

Jack stood tall, looking down at the broken remains of their enemies.

"We done?" he asked.

Baki nodded slowly. "Yeah."

For now.

TO BE CONTINUED...