In a split second, Towan moved. His body surged forward like a coiled spring released, his fist slicing through the air with a sharp, controlled force aimed directly at Dravan’s face. But Dravan was ready. With a fluid, almost casual motion, he tilted his head to the side, letting the punch whistle past his cheek, missing by mere inches. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Dravan’s lips, his eyes gleaming with a predatory calm.
Before Towan could recover his stance, Dravan counterattacked. His movements were swift and precise, a blur of calculated aggression. He pivoted on his front foot, his body twisting as he drove a sharp, brutal blow toward Towan’s ribs. Towan barely managed to react, his arms snapping down to block the strike just in time. The impact reverberated through his forearms, the force of it sending him skidding backward several meters, his boots digging into the grass to steady himself.
Towan’s breath came in short, sharp bursts, his chest rising and falling as he recalibrated. His eyes locked onto Dravan, who stood poised and relaxed, his stance open but deceptively dangerous. The moonlight cast long shadows across the field, the two figures framed in its pale glow.
Dravan didn’t wait. He lunged forward, closing the distance between them in an instant. His right fist shot out in a straight jab, aimed at Towan’s jaw. Towan ducked, the punch grazing the top of his head as he countered with a low sweep aimed at Dravan’s legs. But Dravan anticipated the move, leaping lightly over the sweep and landing with a grace that spoke of years of training. Before Towan could fully rise, Dravan’s knee came up, driving toward his midsection.
Towan twisted, narrowly avoiding the knee, but Dravan’s elbow followed in a swift, arcing motion. Towan raised his arm to block, the impact jarring his shoulder. He gritted his teeth, using the momentum to spin away and create some distance. His mind raced, analyzing Dravan’s patterns, searching for an opening.
He feinted left, then darted right, launching a rapid series of punches aimed at Dravan’s torso. Dravan deflected the first two with his forearms, sidestepped the third, and caught Towan’s wrist on the fourth. With a sharp twist, he wrenched Towan’s arm to the side, forcing him off balance. Towan stumbled but recovered quickly, yanking his arm free and backing away.
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Dravan pressed the advantage, his movements relentless. He closed in with a flurry of strikes—high, low, alternating between fists and feet—each one forcing Towan to block, dodge, or retreat. Towan’s defenses held, but just barely. The speed and precision of Dravan’s attacks were overwhelming, each blow landing with enough force to rattle Towan’s guard.
Sweat dripped down Towan’s brow as he struggled to keep up. He managed to land a glancing blow to Dravan’s shoulder, but it was like striking stone—Dravan barely flinched. In response, Dravan swept Towan’s legs out from under him with a low, spinning kick. Towan hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of him, but he rolled to the side just as Dravan’s foot came down where his head had been.
Towan scrambled to his feet, his chest heaving, his arms trembling slightly from the strain. He knew he was outmatched, but he couldn’t afford to stop. Not yet. He charged forward, feinting a punch to the face before dropping low and aiming a kick at Dravan’s knee. Dravan sidestepped, but Towan followed through, using the momentum to spin into a backfist aimed at Dravan’s temple.
This time, Dravan didn’t dodge. He caught Towan’s wrist mid-swing, his grip like iron. With a sharp tug, he pulled Towan off balance and drove his free hand into Towan’s stomach. The air rushed out of Towan’s lungs as he doubled over, pain radiating through his core. Dravan didn’t let up. He released Towan’s wrist and delivered a swift, precise strike to the side of Towan’s head, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Towan tried to rise, his vision swimming, his body protesting every movement. But before he could fully get to his feet, Dravan was there, his foot coming down on Towan’s chest, pinning him to the ground. Towan struggled, but Dravan’s weight was unyielding, his expression cold and detached.
Towan’s hands clawed at Dravan’s leg, but it was no use. He was trapped, his strength fading with each passing second.
The fight was over.
He had lost.
Towan opened his eyes, the pale moonlight spilling across his vision like liquid silver. The night sky stretched above him, vast and endless, dotted with faint, shimmering stars. The cool grass beneath him pressed against his back, grounding him as he lay there, arms spread wide, his fingers brushing the dewy blades. The air was still, save for the occasional whisper of wind that rustled the trees in the distance.