Infinity, The Arcade Age
Chapter 527: The Unique Shermie

Chapter 527: Chapter 527: The Unique Shermie

With a thunderous crash, a figure suddenly flew backward, smashing through tables and chairs and even crashing into several other adventurers along the way.

Only after being hurled dozens of meters and slamming violently into a wall did the figure finally stop—embedded deep in the cracked surface, completely motionless.

The surrounding adventurers stared in shock at their companion stuck in the wall, then turned to glance at Qin Ming, who stood there expressionless, one arm lowered.

They exchanged glances—and in the very next second, they all let out a furious roar and charged, weapons drawn, rushing straight at him.

The one in front leapt into the air with a blazing Power Wave, his fist wreathed in flames as he struck directly at Qin Ming’s face.

But before it could land, it was intercepted mid-flight.

Qin Ming reached out and grabbed the fist, twisting it brutally. Not only did he stop the attack cold, he forcefully wrung the adventurer’s entire arm like a soaked towel.

The adventurer screamed in agony, his face twisted with pain—only for Qin Ming to raise a leg and kick him square in the chest.

Boom!

The man was sent flying, but his mangled arm didn’t follow—it was ripped clean off by the savage twist.

Still gripping the severed, twisted limb, Qin Ming turned coldly and casually swung it sideways—smacking it right across the face of another burly adventurer who had just leapt in from behind, trying to grapple him.

The blow sent the attacker spinning through the air like a rag doll.

With two enemies down in a flash, crimson light flashed in Qin Ming’s eyes. Blood coiled up his arm as he suddenly swept it outward.

A swirling sphere of blood energy formed in an instant, spinning violently as it shot forward—slamming straight into a target ahead.

Bang!

The unfortunate adventurer exploded on the spot—limbs flying in every direction.

Before the pieces could even hit the ground, the airborne blood had already reformed into new spheres—blood bullets screaming through the air, shooting at the crowd in every direction.

The arcs of those crimson energy balls crisscrossed midair like artillery fire, and anyone they hit was either torn to shreds or blasted backward like a broken puppet.

And as the body count climbed, the number of blood balls kept rising too.

His now-maxed Homing Hadouken had multiplied in strength—the number of projectiles he could simultaneously control had exploded many times over.

If it used to be like launching a single artillery shell at a time... now it was a full-blown Katyusha rocket barrage.

A single cast could cover an entire area—everyone had their own personalized bomb chasing them down.

Inside the bar, the blood spheres flew madly in every direction, crashing into anything that moved.

The adventurers tried desperately to fight back, but against such overwhelming numbers and devastating explosive power, their resistance was meaningless.

Eventually, unable to hold out any longer, they turned and ran—smashing through windows and doors in a chaotic retreat.

Qin Ming didn’t even bother chasing. Instead, he slowly rotated his arms, bringing them together before him.

The blood spheres that had been rampaging through the bar now flew toward him in unison, converging in a tight cluster and collapsing into his palms—compressed and absorbed directly into his body.

Original Ultimate Technique: Area Attack—Hadouken Frenzy!

Once all the blood had been reabsorbed, Qin Ming lowered his arms and raised his head.

By now, the entire bar was in ruins—riddled with gaping holes and strewn with corpses and shattered limbs. In just a few short moments, this once-lively establishment had become a graveyard, with dozens dead.

Of those, only a small number had been killed directly by Qin Ming. After all, intermediate-level adventurers were no pushovers—and Qin Ming hadn’t even gone all out.

Most of the casualties were ordinary civilians—those who died from the aftermath of the battle.

Adventurers never cared whether innocent people got caught in the crossfire. They were the last people who’d ever be restrained by moral concerns.

If there were benefits to be gained, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill—not just a few bystanders, but dozens, hundreds even.

These people weren’t just like terrorists—they were terrorists in essence.

Frowning slightly as he surveyed the destruction around him, Qin Ming was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps.

The members of the C.Y.S. band, all visibly injured, were slowly making their way over.

At first, they had come intending to thank Qin Ming for saving them.

But as they drew close enough to get a good look at his face, Shermie’s eyes suddenly lit up with excitement. She blurted out, visibly thrilled:

"You’re the champion of last year’s KOF ’96 tournament, aren’t you?! I saw your matches! You even beat that monster Goenitz head-on!"

In the world of King of Fighters, Qin Ming was a certified celebrity. After all, not many earned the title of King of Fighters—especially in such a high-profile fashion.

Shermie, who had immediately recognized him, was clearly starstruck. She started patting herself down, seemingly searching for pen and paper—wanting an autograph.

In contrast, Yashiro Nanakase and Chris, standing nearby, were far calmer. Yashiro even frowned slightly.

Shermie’s enthusiasm wasn’t surprising though. Besides the fact that Qin Ming was a tournament champion worthy of any fighter’s respect, she was also a hardcore muscle-fan—an avid lover of heavy metal and intense music who trained specifically in grappling and submission holds.

With Qin Ming’s fame, towering physique, and powerful aura, he checked off every box on her aesthetic list. How could she not be excited seeing him in person?

In fact, her preferences didn’t really match the aesthetic norms of the KOF world—they were more aligned with the Street Fighter universe.

That said, Shermie was no naïve teenager. She was a seasoned performer with plenty of street smarts.

After finding a pen and paper and collecting Qin Ming’s autograph, she quickly calmed down and retreated behind her teammates, falling completely silent.

Her long bangs drooped down to cover her eyes, and she stood motionless behind the two.

It was a peculiar image. Shermie’s figure was stunning, and her outfit was downright provocative—tight skirt, modern stylish attire, and even a heart-shaped cutout on her chest that revealed ample cleavage.

Yet despite this seductive appearance, she gave off an air of refined quiet—like an elegant, demure young lady from a noble family. It was a strangely dissonant impression.

Then again, King of Fighters women were all known for their unique traits—and more often than not, a striking sense of contradiction.

Take Chizuru Kagura, for instance—one of the Three Sacred Treasures. She always dressed like a solemn shrine maiden in layers of prim ceremonial garb, completely covered from neck to toe...

Yet her real personality? A reckless biker chick with a taste for adrenaline and danger.

Or Mai Shiranui, whose revealing outfit and flamboyant moves made her the embodiment of boldness and sensuality—yet deep down, she was incredibly reserved, with the grace and modesty of a noble lady.

And now there was Shermie.

The frontwoman of a metal band, known for flaunting her body and edgy style, whose real personality was so shy she couldn’t even make eye contact—always using her bangs to hide her gaze.

Can you believe it?

(End of Chapter)