“Nice to see you again, Annabelle.”
Michael’s words shattered the heavy silence that had hung in the air since her arrival. The young woman turned toward him, and for a moment, her otherwise impassive face softened. A faint smile tugged at her lips—so subtle it was barely noticeable, but Michael caught it.
He shifted his focus back to Frank.
“So, what’s the plan? What do you want to do?” Michael asked, his tone calm yet firm.
Frank’s mind was in chaos. This girl was his age, yet her presence was suffocating. How could Michael know someone this powerful yet so young?
Everything about her radiated danger, and his instincts screamed for him to retreat. But he knew it was too late to back down. He had brought his friends, and they were watching him. Practitioners in the gym were glancing over, curious about the commotion.
Frank was trapped. If he ran, the rumors would spread—he’d be the guy who fled as soon as he saw the girl. That would ruin his reputation, and worse, his family’s standing.
Gritting his teeth, he pushed forward, forcing himself to meet Michael’s gaze.
“I accept your challenge. We’ll fight in 15 days. Don’t worry—I’ll have the credits ready.”
With that, Frank shot Michael one last glare before storming out of the gym, his friends trailing behind him.
A hundred thousand credits. The sum was staggering, even for him. But he had no choice—his ego and pride wouldn’t allow him to back down.
As he walked, his thoughts spiraled. Who was this ‘Annabelle’? There was no way someone this strong was unknown. And Michael—why had he asked for a 15-day delay? Frank couldn’t make sense of it.
‘Whatever his plan is, it won’t matter,’ he thought. ‘There’s no way I’ll lose.’
His friends, meanwhile, were bewildered. What had just happened? Weren’t they supposed to humiliate Michael? And why had Frank agreed to delay the fight?
But they didn’t understand what Frank had felt. Annabelle’s killing intent had been focused entirely on him. Had it been directed at them, they would have crumbled on the spot.
“Your timing was perfect,” Michael said, turning to Annabelle.
She smiled faintly. “Thanks. It’s good to see you too, Michael. How have you been? It’s been a while—you’re looking good.”
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“I’m fine, thanks. But you’re clearly doing better than me. No way he would’ve left without your help.”
“Hmph. So you do know you owe me,” Annabelle teased, feigning a tone of superiority. She tilted her chin up and struck an exaggerated pose, mimicking a noblewoman from an old drama.
Michael chuckled, the tension melting away. It felt good to see his childhood friend again after so many years.
“I’ll bow to your might, then,” he said with a grin.
Their laughter filled the air, their playful banter bringing warmth to their surrounding.
As they talked, Michael found himself struck by how much she had changed. They had only kept in touch through online games, and she didn’t have a social media presence — and neither did he.
‘Puberty really did her a favor,’ he thought, though he quickly pushed the thought aside.
The two of them rented a private sparring room.
“I have to warn you, Michael,” Annabelle said as they stepped inside. “My parents are powerful. They helped me level up and gave me some amazing skills. So when we fight, don’t hold back. I want everything you’ve got.”
“What level are you now?”
“Level 12,” she said, pride evident in her voice.
Michael blinked. Level 12? In just three days? That was astonishing.
He knew she had a powerful background and significant resources, but even so, reaching that level required incredible effort and determination.
Michael, on the other hand, could barely hold his own against level 7 opponents despite being level 5. Fighting her seriously was out of the question.
But they weren’t here to defeat each other—they were friends, after all.
Michael nodded in understanding and took a fighting stance. Without hesitation, he launched a punch aimed at her chest, putting his full strength into the strike.
Annabelle’s eyes lit up with satisfaction. She was a proud woman, and being underestimated by someone she liked—especially by Michael—she would have been disappointed.
With practiced ease, she parried the punch.
Michael followed up with a series of moves, mixing punches, kicks, feints, and even elbow strikes. He tried everything to catch her off guard, but it was futile.
Annabelle was in complete control.
Her footwork was flawless—every movement precise, every step calculated. Whether she was dodging, countering, or stabilizing herself, it was clear she was using a martial art far superior to anything taught at school or at the gym.
After gauging his abilities, she began to retaliate.
Michael tried to block, parry, or counter her strikes, but she was faster. Some of her attacks came from angles he couldn’t even see.
The two sparred intensely, testing each other’s techniques. After several minutes, Michael stepped back, breathing heavily.
“That’s enough,” he said, his voice tinged with both exhaustion and satisfaction.
Though he had lost, Michael didn’t feel defeated. Annabelle’s strength and skill were far beyond his, but there was no shame in that.
The advent of Stellarion had changed the rules. Women, once considered weaker physically, could now surpass men with effort and talent. At level 12, Annabelle’s stats completely overshadowed his.
Michael smiled, proud of his friend. Training with her would push him to grow faster.
Other than that, her decision to spar with him despite her advantages didn’t go unnoticed. She could’ve easily sought out stronger opponents or elite instructors, but she chose to help him instead.
Her gain would obviously be lowered, but she still made that decision without hesitation over a game chat. He truly cherished her and her efforts for what she did.
“Thanks a lot for coming, Annabelle. I truly appreciate it” he said earnestly.
Her eyes widened at his sincerity, and for a moment, she looked flustered.
“Don’t mention it,” she replied softly, turning her head away to hide the faint blush creeping up her cheeks.