1 Story 1, Chapter 1.
Pursuing power in the Depths of FUNGER
Chapter 1: Prologue
Element: Crossover.
Source: Fear and Hunger & Baki
Synopsis: As Jack Hanma trains all day, every day for ten years. He suddenly found himself displaced in the accursed Dungeon of Fear & Hunger. In this new world, could he find the strength he oh so crave to achieve his goal?
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"(Jack "Neil" Hanma), the soul of the tormented. You are destined to struggle in every step you take in life. Ultimately, this makes you stronger physically and tempers your iron will that rivals the will of the gods themselves."
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As the birds flew high across the skies, a lonesome yet jolly old man of small stature walked across his private residence, holding a bag of feeds with a smile on his face. He periodically threw handfuls into a pond full of fishes, creating ripples and splashes with every action.
Minutes later, he turned his bag with a carefree look, silently trudging along the pathway as he enjoyed the ambiance that his garden emitted. However, within the depths of the twisted tree lines, a pair of robust legs could be seen above ground.
"What?" A tinge of doubt and suspicion crept into his voice.
'It can't be...' A bad feeling crept up his spine as he rushed forward. Just a few meters shy, the behemoth of a man came into view. Seemingly still and lifeless, the old man uttered his name between huffs and puffs.
"Ja..." Before he could complete his words, the sound of his voice made the hanging figure twitch into consciousness. "Jack!" The birds, frightened by the concerned shriek, flew away.
"Mnnn..." Feeling something between his teeth, Jack subconsciously gnawed harder; almost tearing the thick linen in half. Shifting his line of sight, he let out a befuddled hum at the sight of Mister Tokugawa.
"Ah… hey." After seeing his gaping mouth and frozen visage, Jack decided to check the old man.
Letting loose of his grip, he dropped down to the ground with a light plume of dirt, staring straight into the old man's eyes. "Must have scared you." After a few moments of silence, he continued, "I must have fallen asleep." The old man's face contorted from shock into incredulous disbelief.
"You... you were… sleeping?" From disbelief into anger, he scolded Jack for his peculiar sleeping position. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?!"
A drop of sweat slid off from Jack's cheek as he listened to the concern scolding of the old man.
"The first thing I see this morning… is you hanging yourself here in my garden!"
"I wasn't hanging myself, I was holding myself there with my bite—my jaw."
Listening to his reasoning made the old man reel from the sheer absurdity, but after reflecting on what he had seen in his life, he believed him.
"Holding yourself up with your jaw, you say..." After a moment of silence, he let that statement sink in before continuing, "Aren't you like two hundred kilograms…?"
"I couldn't get used to the futon, so I slept up here." After answering his query with a carefree tone, he must've surprised the old man, who almost went into another admonishment but came out as more of astonishment halfway through.
"You slept like that? That's some training, Jack!"
"Nah..."
"N-nah?"
"My real training is next."
Deep within the Tokugawa's residence, the old man gazed at the young fighter with an expectant look as Jack set up the rack. After a few minutes spent on the contraption, Jack chomped the harness that firmly carried the barbell with a bit of strain. Lifting his head high and mighty, Tokugawa then began to count the plates with fascination.
'Let's see there's one, two, three..." The screws tinkled from the sudden jolting as Jack slowly opened his mouth, testing the waters. He lightly juggled the weight in his mouth before snapping it shut. "Four hundred… or is it more?"
Repeating the same movement, he did it again with much more ferocity and stability. The muscles near Jack's jawline became prominent with each exertion.
"Oh-oh!"
...K'cch!
"Training up the muscle in his jaw, to increase his biting force..."
...K'shh!
"Well, if you need me…"
...K'cch!
Looking down, he couldn't help but comment at the sound of dripping nearby.
"Ah, he's drooling..."
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From then on to the afternoon, Jack ended the rep with one last chomp before sighing and lowering the weight to the ground. With a quiet thud, he blinked away the drop of sweat that slid across his eyelids.
"What the..." Instead of the traditional gym, he expected, he was met with a white void, devoid of anything that remotely resembled reality. Endlessly tall, unending below.
His toes curled up and down, feeling nothing but empty air. He couldn't help but let out a huff of befuddlement as he didn't feel the momentum of gravity nor the caress of cold air. As a matter of fact, the temperature was surprisingly moderate, and despite not seeing a source of light, it was surprisingly bright. He hummed out of acknowledgment and let bygones be bygones.
Bit by bit, he felt his consciousness slipping in for a brief moment as his sensations quickly began to numb...
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One moment, it was total darkness, then the next thing he knew, he was standing in the middle of a room full of dust, grime, and dry bloodstains. The pungent scent of death and rotting disease hit his nose like a freight train, and the sound of moaning misery filled his ears.
With his eyes narrowed dangerously, he felt something odd going on in the background without his knowledge, but he couldn't put his finger on it. His eyesight slowly got sharper as they adapted along the sudden shifting of luminosity.
Deeming the environment as safe, he trudged across the narrow hallway with the soles of his shoes echoing across the room. Stopping in front of an old, rickety door made of withered wood, he pushed hard, destroying the lock along the way before halting his movement. A few meters ahead, a large and disfigured 'human' stood idly across the hallway. Wielding a meat cleaver in one hand and some strange BDSM outfit, the bulbous visage of the man turned and smiled in his line of direction, giving him the unpleasant sight of his scarred cock.
Upon the sight of fresh meat, the pulsing veins of his shaft intensified as it rose loud and proud in anticipation, Jack saw this with a hint of distain as the air around them immediately shifted, as if space itself was being pulled in all directions.
The air around them distorted as Jack's killing intent were deliberately spilled over the surroundings, a vain attempt of intimidating the mad man that was long since corrupted by the dungeon itself.
But to Jack's mind.
The hideous bastard either had the instinct of a retard or a brave man with something up his sleeve.
"H'mnn...' winding everywhere through his body, countless major and minor blood vessels are visible in the naked eyes of Goudou. Not to mention those tumors restricting his joints, he's more of a dense clump of vital points than a fighter worthy of respect.
Jack analyzed the man before him with utmost scrutiny, after all... it's not everyday that you get to see such a peculiar sight.
A frame of reference depicted inside Jack's mindscape as he examines the hypersexual man before him, letting out a 'tsk', he warns the cripple with a stern voice. "Give it up."
"You'll die wherever I retaliate." However... Instead of backing down, the disfigured man wobbled towards him before accelerating into a full-on sprint with a drooling mouth, launching himself with the cleaver raised high as he bellows a battle cry.
"G'roooooouuu!!!"
"So that's how it is..." He murmurs silently as the crimson red bloodlust were unveiled beneath his eyes.
In response to his berserk, Jack Hanma was suddenly struck by intrusive thoughts, recreating the event that happened to him in the past.
He counters the mad dash with a vicious overhand strike to the mouth, in which... it did more than breaking his teeth..
