Francis, the general director of the Fighting Club, holder of the letter F, and a man of absolute freedom.
He had also been assigned to provide direct support to invaded worlds, breaking the World Blockade.
Francis's fists were highly effective at breaking the World Blockade. Without him, the blockade would likely have lasted another full day.
The support mission had naturally ended in failure.
By the time they broke the blockade, the world had already been consumed.
Feeling rather depressed, he chose to visit the Black Tower Clubhouse for a full-body massage.
One massage session lasted an entire day.
Once the massage was over, he could not even be bothered to put on the suit that symbolized failure.
He simply wrapped himself in a clubhouse towel and walked back to the Fighting Club like that... If anyone looked at him along the way, whether male or female, he would even deliberately spread open the towel to show off.
He strode along with absolute confidence, occasionally breaking into an awkward dance.
Just as Francis returned to the club,
an assistant covered from head to toe in legs—whose fingers were even made of "leg structures"—instantly arrived at a speed so fast it distorted space-time.
Even the assistant's pupils were shaped like soles of feet.
"Welcome back, Boss! Here is a record of what happened while you were away from the club. Nothing major occurred."
"If nothing major happened, I won't read it...
Find me five people who have recently achieved ten consecutive victories, are not seriously injured, and have reached King level. Let them help me warm up.
I never expected the Uncontrolled Ones to use such troublesome methods. Before the next World Blockade, I need to properly adjust my condition and try to break that black membrane in less time. My