Grace stared down at the arena below her, dumbfounded. Owen had somehow managed to push through the third floor challengers. She couldn't believe it. When she saw the first few floor three fights and how severely injured he became, she thought for sure that he would fail. But somewhere along the line, that had changed.

Looking at his state now, Grace could only admire his perseverance.

She swallowed deeply and pressed her hands onto the glass in front of her. She was starting to feel an emotion that she was unfamiliar with.

From next to her, Isaac spoke up, "Damn, I recognize that woman."

Grace turned her attention from Owen and focused on the newcomer. "From where?"

"She's infamous. A few years back, around three or four, this girl fell down from the upper floors and into the lower. The story went around for a few months, everyone was talking about it. You see, apparently she rendered around fifty promising inmates non–functional, and as for her punishment, she was sent straight down here."

"How did she do that?" Grace asked.

"Nobody knows the details, but the consensus was that her essence ability is just really strong." Isaac grunted and pursed his lips, as he looked below. "With Owen suddenly gaining this spike in strength, I don’t know who will come out on top."

Will, who had been listening in, turned to look back down at Owen. He shook his head and muttered, "he’s not going to lose."

Hope still existed within him. Faith that Owen would do the impossible, continued to ring through him.

***

Joyce pointed the toe of her shoe towards Owen and stretched her arms backwards. She narrowed her eyes, her lips tight with intent, and her expression tensed.

"I commend you, really. For defeating all those inmates before me is something truly admirable. You are really an excellent fighter. But a question has been puzzling me for a while now. Why in the world did you start this gauntlet in the first place? I do think you have a sense of superiority, so maybe you did this thinking you were invincible. But even so, I’d think you would then quit when confronted with how difficult it is, and yet, you haven’t."

Owen merely stood there without a word.

"What are you planning on doing exactly?" She raised a finger and traced her smile. "Do you have an escape plan? Because, if you do, then I am deeply curious. If you wouldn’t mind sharing with us all, I–"

The fabric of Joyce's jumpsuit pulled taut from the front, the force stretching it. The next moment she was flying forwards in the air, hurtling across the arena. Owen hearing enough, had used his essence ability to violently propel her forward.

As she soared, Owen pulled back his fist. Increasing the kinetic energy in his arm, his fist shot forward as a blur towards her face. At that moment, Joyce's hand intercepted it and grabbed his fist, holding it back. Joyce smiled as a purple aura surrounded her.

"I see. There’s no room for talk. How unfortunate."

As the two made contact, auras of yellow and purple clashed together. Joyce was a mind essence user, and with their physical prowess remaining equal, they pushed each other back.

Upon stabilizing his stance, Owen rushed in with a left-handed hook aimed for her jaw. Joyce blocked the punch with her forearm and countered with a counter hook, swinging her fist outwards. Her counter clipped his ear barely, and he spun halfway around, using the inertia to wind up his elbow.

The strike would have landed, but he was stopped as Joyce's palms formed a defensive shield, blocking against it. Using the moment she kicked the back of one of his knees and caused him to crumple downwards. She then threw out a quick jab while he was down, catching him square in the temple.

Owen shrugged it off and, before she could pull her hand back, grabbed her by the wrist. He then used his leg to knock one of hers, breaking her stance. With her falling backwards, he increased the kinetic energy in her fall and slammed her down hard.

Shockwaves erupted from the surface below and rumbled throughout the arena. Owen went to stomp, but as his foot neared Joyce, she managed to roll and narrowly avoid it.

As she propelled herself forward, Owen came after her. He followed closely behind, ready to engage. As he went to throw a punch, Joyce suddenly turned around and her two fingers were aimed straight for his eyes.

Not willing to get blinded, Owen threw his arm up and covered his vision. Joyce smirked and threw out her other fist, landing a crushing blow on his liver. The shockingly sharp punch made him double over as pain wracked him.

Then Joyce moved behind him like a snake, where her hands wrapped around Owen's waist. She clenched him tightly, and Owen instantly recognized what was coming. He was lifted into the air and flung over her head, as she performed a perfect suplex.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Owen braced himself as he was smashed into the ground, back first. A groan escaped from his throat, and the wind was knocked out of him. That could have damaged his spine, but luckily essence helped to dull the blow.

Recovering his breath, Owen pushed himself away from Joyce. Upon standing, he found her in front of him. Her hands were behind her back, and she looked at him with her head tilted to the side.

"From that brief exchange I can conclude that we are rather well-matched," Joyce noted, a thoughtful look on her face. But her eyes belied her, as they gleamed with mischievous intent.

"Well now that it has come to this, I want to give you a fair warning. I’ll start using my essence ability now."

Owen raised an eyebrow. "Why are you telling me this?"

She smiled, as she backed away and made some distance. "If I use my ability on you, it will permanently hinder you. In fact, it will make day to day life very difficult for you. So to be nice, I will give you a chance to forfeit now."

He frowned at her words. "I’ll never forfeit."

Joyce shrugged. "I’ve warned you. Don’t hold me responsible for what comes next."

Without hesitation, Joyce raised up her hand at Owen. He reacted by moving to the side, wanting to avoid any abilities that came his way.

But as he ran, he suddenly lost control of his own body. He crashed down to the floor, tripping on nothing. His face bashed against the solid ground, and his body went limp.

He couldn't move a muscle, not a single one. Paralyzed, Owen wasn’t able to do a thing, and it was only when he realized he wasn't breathing, panic rose up.

His lungs were petrified, and he felt himself suffocating. But as he started to feel faint, he tried flexing his hand but doing that seemed to move one of his toes.

His other hand bent a knee, and from there he figured it out. Joyce’s essence ability had swapped the responses between different parts of his body.

He tried flexing one of his thighs, but that just made him wink with one of his eyes. He tried out some other motions hoping to find the one that enabled him to breath.

The voice of Mayers came through the intercom system. "Owen Walters. If you don’t move in the next minute, we will deem you unconscious and mark you as the loser."

Shit. There was no time to spare. He flexed every muscle available, hoping something would give him a semblance of his ability to breath.

It wasn’t until he tried to stick out his tongue that something clicked. Suddenly he felt air going into his lungs. A slow gasp was drawn.

Breathing, air, finally. Relief swept over him, but at the same time, what action allowed him to breathe out?

For the next twenty seconds, Owen tried out random actions to map out his body. It was a tough puzzle to solve. Pointing with his pinky finger, clenched his butt cheek. Scrunching up his forehead, led to an open jaw. Straightening his elbows allowed him to clench his legs.

It wasn’t until he was nearing the end of his minute that he had figured out the motions to move his arm. Wrapping the logics together, he lifted his arm and slammed his hand down on the floor. He struggled to push himself up, before he eventually managed to get up on one knee.

Owen struggled to rise, his awkward form unsteady. He stared up, with one eye wincing and the other unblinking straight at Joyce.

She was looking at him with wide eyes. "You’re honestly the first person to somewhat recover from my ability. Did you memorize what your new body responses were? That’s impressive."

Owen took a wobbly step forward, unable to walk in a straight line.

Joyce tilted her head. "Doesn't matter. I’ll just change them again."

Owen took three steps before stumbling to the ground. His face once again smacked against the floor. He was paralyzed again and forced to lay there. If he could have moved his mouth, then he would have cursed at her.

He relearned the new patterns until he could move again. He crawled, then pulled himself to a kneel. Then, he got up. An eyebrow raised on Joyce's face, unsure of what to make of this tenacity.

"I can just keep switching it up," she called. "It’s pointless. Just silently and obediently forfeit."

Owen ignored her. He raised his fists up high, showing his intent to fight. His eyes carried willpower, unbreakable and fierce. He didn’t waver and wasn't backing down. He will push through, fight, and not falter.

He found the necessary muscle actions to move open his mouth. "I don’t care if it takes hours. I will beat you."

A frown crossed Joyce's face. She pulled up an arm and aimed it at Owen. "Then I will take your words to heart."

Owen was locked up again. He fell to the floor, and once more was forced to learn a whole new order of body movements.

An hour later, Joyce had repeated this process many times. And over and over again, Owen kept getting back up. He refused to stay down. He couldn’t.

As Joyce watched him struggle on the floor again, she approached him with measured steps. She lifted her leg and placed her foot on his back. She pressed down on his body until he was pressed flat on the ground.

"I just don’t understand. Why?" Joyce voiced, her expression bewildered. "Why would you push yourself so hard? Why would you continue to fight like this?"

She kept him down as she asked him another question.

"Wouldn't a logical man stop?"

Owen made the necessary motions to lift his head up and glimpsed her in the corner of his eyes. His mouth opened slowly as he wheezed out, "I won’t stop until I’ve won. I don’t care who it is. Whether it's you, or anyone else. I will break through anyone and everyone who stands in my way. I won’t stop fighting until I’ve become damn free!"

"Silly," Joyce said with a tight smile. "But that tenacity of yours is surely amazing."

The foot on Owen's back disappeared. Joyce stepped back and raised up her hand. "I forfeit, everyone."

Owen attempted to look at her, his eyes popping from their sockets. Shocked at her forfeiting. "Why are you quitting?"

Joyce shook her head and smiled. "I just simply don’t have the patience, and continuing would just be a waste of time. You've proven yourself with actions, not words. And honestly... I admire you. Let us meet again some other time."

She bowed low to him, her hands clasped firmly in front of her. "I’ll be cheering you on, Owen Walters. Please continue on. And I hope you’ll get used to having your movements switched around in such a confusing manner."

Joyce then turned, and exited the arena with her head held high. Owen was left dumbfounded as he watched her leave.

He dragged himself, and pulled himself upright. Struggling with his wobbly stance, he made his way to the centre. There was only one thought going through his head right now. That woman was holding back. She hadn’t used her insignia at all, and she could have easily incapacitated him while he was on the floor.

He clenched his teeth. He never liked feeling weak. It annoyed him, pissed him off, and fuelled his ever-growing desire to become strong.

The buzzer sounded again and the door to the entrance opened.