I chambered my spear hand near my hip, taut with focus as I sprinted forward. His injury gave him a disadvantage… but Ryan is more of a prodigy than me. The announcer might act as if this fight would be easy, hyping up the crowd with overblown commentary. This will be my hardest fight yet. Ryan’s sharp eyes tracked my movements, and in one fluid motion, he spun on his heel, raising his right leg high. His body twisted, delivering a question mark kick aimed squarely at my head. He wasn’t using his dominant leg—likely saving it for a critical moment or protecting it due to his injury—but even his weaker strikes carried a lethal edge.
Our attacks collided with a loud crack, the force of the impact sending a ripple through the air. The wind brushed against my face, stirring loose strands of hair, and I gritted my teeth, pushing against the resistance. Ryan dug his heels into the ground, his stance rooted like an immovable mountain. My spear-hand strike broke through his skin, tearing into the muscle beneath, crimson staining his already battered form. Even with his injury helping me, we were evenly matched in raw power. His sheer will... just what happened to you?
I adjusted my footing and rotated my wrist, finding an opening in his defenses. I slipped forward and sliced through the air in front of him, the blade of my hand aiming for his neck. It was close—so close I felt the displaced air graze my fingers. He then dropped to the ground that left me wide open. Ryan’s leg swept out in a wide arc, striking my ankles and knocking me off balance. The impact sent me crashing onto my back. I barely had time to think before I saw his shadow looming above me. Ryan raised his right foot, and fired an axe kick with all the force of a falling guillotine. My instincts kicked in. I opened my palm and struck the shin of his injured left leg, hitting it with precision and dragging my hand sharply across the bone as I rolled backward. His descending kick missed me by inches, slamming into the ground with a thunderous boom that created a small crater. Dust and debris erupted around us.
I planted my hand firmly on the ground, using it as leverage to swing my leg through and push myself upright in one smooth motion. The sting in my calf flared as I moved, and I glanced down to see a dark bruise already forming where Ryan had swept me off my feet. The pain was sharp, but manageable due to my blessing. Ryan pressed the advantage before I could fully stabilize. He closed the distance with calculated speed. Quite aggressive. I snapped my arm out, throwing a quick jab, hoping to disrupt his timing and force him to pause, even for a fraction of a second. He was too fast. Ryan weaved to the side, slipping out of range, and before I could recover, he launched himself into the air.
His body twisted mid-jump, and his leg extended in a powerful side kick aimed directly at my torso. The impact slammed into my stomach like a battering ram, forcing the air from my lungs in a sharp gasp. I clenched my jaw and endured it, refusing to falter. In an instant, I countered, swiping forward with a sharp strike aimed at his right shoulder. The air hissed as my hand cut through it, but he was already moving, retreating his foot with the same speed he’d used to attack. My follow-up came instinctively—a low swipe at his leg—but once again, he evaded, pulling back just in time to avoid the blow. Something wasn’t adding up. His speed was unlike anything I’d seen from him before. Ryan wasn’t known for this level of agility. I should be outclassing him in raw mobility, yet here he was, dictating the pace of the fight. I narrowed my eyes, studying him as we circled each other. There had to be something I wasn’t seeing, some strategy or trick he was using to mask his usual limitations.
He blinked, and in that fleeting instant, I was already behind him. His blind spot was mine to exploit. I twisted my forearm in a fluid, swirling motion, experimenting with something new. The motion was unnatural. My hand swept forward, nearly grazing his skull, the force trailing behind it stirring the air like a miniature tornado spiraling from my arm. Ryan reacted with inhuman reflexes firing a reverse heel kick aimed at my torso. I ducked low, feeling the rush of his leg slicing through the air above me. My veins pulsed, vibrating intensely. The sensation was almost overwhelming. I channeled it into movement, swinging both of my arms around me like fluid whips slicing through the air. Each strike cut through the space around Ryan, closing in on him from all sides. The sharpness of my attacks forced him to react. His legs snapped out in rapid counter-kicks, deflecting most of my strikes. Yet, my technique was relentless, nicking him with every rotation. Thin, sharp cuts formed along both his legs, crimson streaks marking each successful blow.
I didn’t stop. I pushed forward, pouring everything into my assault. Imagine your arms as if your bones weren’t there. That is the core of the Mingling Cuts technique. My movements became fluid, unpredictable, like water flowing in violent streams. Ryan’s expression tightened. He clicked his tongue in frustration, then suddenly dropped low, diving through the gap between my legs. My arms froze mid-swing as I processed his maneuver, spinning around just in time to see him inverted, balanced perfectly on his hands.
Ryan exerted explosive force through his arms, launching his legs upward. His foot connected with my chin in a devastating kick that sent shockwaves through my skull. My teeth clattered together painfully, and a metallic taste filled my mouth. He wasn’t finished. Using the momentum from his leap, Ryan spun his body midair, delivering another kick that struck with precision. Blood spurted from the cuts on his legs with every movement, painting the ground beneath us, but the sheer ferocity of his attack didn’t waver. I raised my hands, palms shielding my chin, trying to guard against his onslaught. It was barely enough. Each kick came with incredible force, transferring through my arms and into my head.
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Then I need to counterattack! Ryan’s barrage of kicks reached its peak. His technique concluded with a powerful upward kick, the final move in his relentless sequence. My arm lashed out in a sharp, perpendicular arc. The edge of my strike tore across his pectoral muscles, leaving a deep, crimson line in its wake. Ryan's body recoiled. I didn’t hesitate. I darted forward and grasped his leg, my fingers digging into the flesh just below the cuts I had already inflicted. Blood seeped between my fingers, warm and slick, tightening my grip to exacerbate his wounds. His body tensed. I pivoted, using all my strength to hurl him toward the arena wall.
The crowd roared as his body careened through the air. I kicked off the sand, the ground giving way beneath my heel as I propelled myself forward like a missile, chasing after him. Ryan twisted mid-air, slamming his foot into the ground to halt his momentum just short of the wall. Dust exploded outward, and he spat a glob of blood onto the ground, the crimson liquid glistening under the arena lights. His gaze met mine, angry at something. A red glimmer burned in his eye, like a spark reigniting in a dying flame. I clenched my fist tightly, channeling everything I had left into my next attack. My hand trembled as I molded it into a spear-hand, the motion so tight and deliberate that my veins bulged against my skin. This would be the finishing blow.
Just not in my favor.
Ryan unleashed an onslaught of kicks. It was impossible to counter with his speed. His strikes came from every angle, targeting my entire body with every imaginable technique. Each blow landed with crushing force, overwhelming my tolerance. I could feel my body tearing under the strain, my flesh bruising and splitting with every impact. My arms, once held high in defense, fell slack at my sides. The connection between my mind and body had been severed. Ryan’s relentless assault didn’t stop there. Another powerful kick tore through the fabric of my gi, slicing strands of my hair and scattering them like ashes in the wind. My gi fell in tatters, leaving only my gray shirt and pants clinging to my battered frame.
He stepped back, his breathing controlled all of a sudden. The blood from his wounds, though still present, now only dripped slowly. I stared in disbelief as the gashes I had inflicted moments ago seemed to close before my eyes. Ryan tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharp, unyielding. “Consider that a warning,” he said, his voice calm. “I need to join Sun. Your want does not surpass my need.” What... the hell was that? I should’ve won. I had the advantage, didn’t I? I forced my eyes downward, to his legs. The wounds I had inflicted earlier were sealing themselves, the blood coagulating unnaturally fast. You don’t have a blessed body... do you? I lost. Again. This time, it was real.
I told Jane I’d win. Her face flashed in my mind, her faith in me a crushing weight I could no longer bear. I won’t be able to finish my mission. My arrogance—my delusion of strength—had led me here. I wasn’t strong. I wasn’t even close. Zero believed in me, and yet I failed. I thought of Sun. Sun must be reformed… or destroyed. That was the truth, the only truth that kept me moving. It is what’s right. My family. Their faces. Their voices. Their laughter. All gone. They’re gone because of Sun, and I won’t even be able to avenge them. I gritted my teeth, the taste of blood mixing with the bitter sting of failure. No. No. NO! I refuse to transform into that thing again! I steadied myself, if only in my mind. I will rely on my own power. I will… My fingers twitched. My mind screamed into the void. I will fight some more!
Vellin remained standing, but just barely. His battered body twitched involuntarily, muscles spasming from the overwhelming strain of the fight. His defiance was almost admirable—almost. It was a nice gesture, but the truth was undeniable now: I was the better warrior. Ryuha had told me about this phenomenom, about what he called transcendence. He had said it only occurs in moments of true need, when your back is against the wall and survival depends on it. It’s a phenomenon that boosts your power, speed, knowledge—everything—beyond what’s naturally possible. Ryuha had seen that potential in me, which was why he trained me in the first place. He was preparing me for this exact moment, and now, standing victorious in the arena, I knew I had proven him right, even though I don't want to. I raised my hands triumphantly, the adrenaline of victory coursing through my veins. “I won, fair and square!” My voice echoed through the arena, a declaration to the crowd, the Demon Buddha, and to myself. I had done it.
At last, I could leave Ryuha and that suffocating room behind. His abuse, techniques, expectations—all in my past. I pointed to the Demon Buddha, “Come congratulate me!” The Demon Buddha’s expression shifted subtly, his smile enigmatic. He spoke, “Your opponent can still fight.” My eyes widened in disbelief, and I spun around to look behind me. Vellin stood there, battered and broken. Something about him has changed. His eyes glimmered with an unyielding resolution, an almost otherworldly green light that hadn’t been there before. Impossible! Many impossible things happen daily in this martial arts world, but this is truly.. impossible!! I extended my foot in a sharp, precise kick aimed directly at his eye. “Just fall down already!” The words tore from my lips in frustration. Sheer will won't win you anything! If it did, Ryuha would be dead!
My hand shot up instantly to catch his kick, “I was fighting blind my whole life.” I said. My grip tightened around his leg, “So this is what it means… to surpass your limits.”