My fists crackled with energy as we met in a collision. I ducked under his fist, bringing my sword up in a tight arc. The rebel jumped back before the blade caught and cut into his side. His grin was gone, replaced with a dark scowl.

“I see... Why don't you drop the sword.” He muttered, holding his arms outstretched. “Fight me on even footing. No weapons. No interference. Just you and me. What do you say, hmm?” The rebel pulled a laser handgun and threw it away.

I could hear Jax trying to say something, but I ignored it. I knew the rebel leader was trying to get me to fight in a way that would most likely give him the advantage. I knew it was stupid, but the challenge of an even fight was issued. And I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to accept.

“Ok. No weapons.” I said, throwing my sword to the side. “I Accept your request.”

The Rebel laughed as I spoke. “Oh. You are just as they described. It's so formal and far too accepting. You will learn.”

Our first exchange was raw and chaotic. I threw a punch aimed at his jaw, and he sidestepped, countering with an open-palmed strike that sent a wave of numbness down my arm as I blocked. The force pushed me back a step, but I recovered quickly, pushing forward to keep the pressure on. I stepped and jabbed, trying to get him to engage again.

The rebel leader stepped back just enough to keep out of range, his scarred face twisted into a smug grin that made my blood boil. His confidence oozed through every movement, each dodge, and sidestep calculated, designed to frustrate me.

“Is this it?” he said, his tone mocking, like he wasn’t even breaking a sweat. “The so-called Baron Alex Draven? The man they whisper about in the dark corners of Drakara? You’re a disappointment.”

His words ignited something raw inside me. “You talk too much,” I growled, surging forward.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t even brace himself. His grin widened, and he was already gone when I swung, moving faster than I could track. My punch met empty air, and his fist slammed into my side before I could recover. The impact sent me stumbling, the force rattling my ribs.

“Too slow,” he said, circling me like a predator sizing up its prey.

I shook my head, trying to clear the ringing in my ears. My Nexus surged as my muscles worked overtime to let me react. Even though I couldn’t fully control myself. I adjusted my stance, forcing myself to focus. Timing. My timing was off. I had to get a rhythm and anticipate his movements, but he wasn’t giving me a chance.

He lunged, a blur of motion, and I barely managed to duck in time. His boot pushed off against the wall behind me as he turned, swinging his leg down with a vicious kick aimed at my head. I raised my arms to block, the impact driving me to one knee. My arms ached from the blow, pain shooting down them as I struggled.

“You’re trying so hard,” he said, his voice dripping with scorn. “But you’re just a shadow of what you could be. It’s almost sad.”

Ignoring the pain in my arms, I pushed up and swung again. This time, I connected. Or at least, I thought I did. My fist grazed his shoulder, but before I could capitalize on it, he twisted, grabbing my wrist and using my momentum against me.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

I was on the ground before I even knew what had happened. His knee pressed into my chest. I gasped, struggling to breathe as he leaned in close.

“Pathetic,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear.

With a surge of strength, I threw him off me, rolling to my feet as he landed gracefully a few meters away.

“Better,” he said, brushing imaginary dust from his jacket. “But not good enough.”

I charged again, feinting left before swinging a wild right hook. He ducked and countered with a kick that caught me square in the stomach. The force sent me crashing through the hole that Jax had blown in the wall earlier, debris raining down around me as I hit the floor of the adjoining room.

The rebel leader followed, stepping through the hole like he had all the time in the world. “You’re really making a mess of this place, Baron,” he said, his tone light, almost playful.

I pushed myself up, my body aching, and grabbed the nearest thing I could find, a chair that had been knocked over in the chaos. Without thinking, I hurled it at him.

He dodged easily, the chair shattering against the far wall. “Is that the best you’ve got?”

I didn’t answer. Grabbing another chair, I swung it like a club, forcing him to step back. He ducked under my next swing, then spun and kicked the chair out of my hands, the impact sending it skittering across the floor.

“Every move of yours is a textbook example of failure. It’s almost endearing, really,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Someone trained you well, but they didn’t teach you to adapt.”

I lashed out with my fists, each punch becoming more desperate than the last. He dodged, parried, and countered with brutal efficiency. Every blow he landed felt like a hammer striking an anvil, and I broke under pressure.

The room around us was in shambles, with broken chairs, a table was split in two, and even the walls had marks from the fight. We traded blows back and forth, though it was more that he was the only one landing blows.

“Give up,” he said, catching one of my punches and twisting my arm behind my back. Pain shot through my shoulder, but I refused to cry out. “You’re outmatched, outclassed. Just accept it.”

“Never,” I spat, twisting free and landing a wild elbow to his ribs. He grunted the first real sign of pain I’d seen from him, and it gave me a glimmer of hope.

But it was short-lived. He recovered quickly as he slammed a knee into my stomach and sent me sprawling.

I tried to get up, but my limbs felt heavy, and my energy was fading, but the rage inside me burned hotter than ever. I was losing control, and he knew it.

“Face it,” he said, standing over me. “You’re not ready for this. You’ve never been ready.”

His words bit deep. My thoughts raced back to the first few years after I was adopted. I was being trained by my old trainer. I had never bothered to learn his name. But he had constantly told me that I wasn't ready with every mistake I made. I would never be ready.

I opened my mouth to reply. A chime echoed through the room as he reached for something at his belt. He froze, his expression darkening as he scowled, closing his fist for a second before he answered the comm device.

“Yes,” he said, his voice clipped. I couldn’t hear the other voice, but the frown on the rebel’s face grew as he listened. After a few moments passed before he nodded. “Understood. We will move forward with the shipment. No. I’ve achieved what I needed here.”

He turned back to face me, his smug grin returning. “Looks like our time is up, Baron. But don’t worry. This isn’t over.”

I struggled to my feet, my vision swimming, but he didn’t move to stop me. Instead, he stepped back, his gaze cold and calculating.

“I look forward to our next meeting,” he said, his tone laced with mockery. “Maybe by then, you’ll be worth the effort.”

With that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the corridor. His voice echoed as he walked away. “This was just a taste, Draven. Next time, you’ll see what real power looks like.”

The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth as I staggered to my feet, my legs barely holding me up. I leaned against the wall for support. The fight was over, but the humiliation lingered, gnawing at the edges of my pride.

I clenched my fists, my rage flickering and fading as exhaustion took over. This wasn’t over, not by a long shot.