Adamas's crushing grip on Korro's arms was ruthless, his fingers digging into flesh like steel claws. There was no doubt: he was a fighter of the same style as Thamuz, a specialist in grappling and submission techniques who knew exactly how to inflict maximum pain.

  Korro's bones creaked under the pressure as he struggled to break free from his opponent's hands. Adamas, reveling in his dominance, wore a cruel smile while deliberately prolonging his victim's torment.

  In an act born of desperation, Korro executed a violent twist. The movement cost him his left arm's dislocation, but he managed to land a devastating knee strike to Adamas's ribs. The impact was enough to make his captor loosen his grip and step back, clutching his injured side.

  Korro rose unsteadily, his breathing ragged from the sharp pain radiating from his left arm. The limb, twisted at an unnatural angle, still responded to his commands, though every movement was torture.

  Adamas recovered with supernatural speed and charged at Korro, who was momentarily distracted assessing his injured limb's condition. However, when the aggressor was about to take him down, Korro counterattacked: he used his own dislocated arm as a weapon, smashing it against Adamas's chest. The blow, though it managed to push his opponent back, barely seemed to affect him.

  "Is your desperation such that you attack with a broken arm?" Adamas mocked, his voice dripping with contempt.

  "Your body is hard enough to serve as support and realign my bones," Korro responded with calculated calm, while manipulating his injured arm until a satisfying crack indicated it had returned to its natural position. "Much better."

  The peculiar strategy disconcerted Adamas, who began to recognize that his adversary possessed knowledge that could prove problematic. He adopted his initial stance again: upright, with hands extended and one leg forward, preparing to execute his most lethal technique.

  Suddenly, silence engulfed the arena. For Korro, the world plunged into absolute void as Adamas's figure vanished before his eyes. Recognizing the technique he had experienced at the start of the combat, Korro instinctively threw himself to the ground.

  Adamas materialized his presence above him, his palm extended like a descending guillotine, but the strike found only air. The resulting shockwave traveled to the stadium wall, leaving an impressive crater in its surface.

  "Damn it!" Korro muttered, aware of how close he had been to death.

  From his elevated position, Adamas raised his palm again, determined to finish off his rival, but Korro rolled nimbly to the side. The subsequent impact pulverized the ground where he had been a second before, adding another crater to the combat zone.

  The thunderous sound of Adamas's strikes resonated in Vixkard's ears, who frowned and crossed his arms, analyzing the situation.

  "That sound can only come from a palm strike of the highest level. Takemaru has trained his student well, though I wonder if he knows the weakness of that technique," Vixkard murmured to himself, watching as Korro desperately dodged each of Adamas's onslaughts.

  The impacts devastated the arena while Adamas attacked incessantly. Korro, however, managed to evade each blow with surprising agility, probably the result of years spent escaping from gang leaders who chased him for stealing food and water in his days as a little criminal.

  Adamas's frustration grew with each failed attack until, suddenly, he stopped. He stood up straight, resting his hands on his knees while fixing a fierce gaze on his opponent.

  Korro, noticing the cessation of impacts, quickly turned to find Adamas motionless, his eyes fixed on him like those of a predator.

  "Have you grown tired of hitting the air?" Korro mocked from a safe distance.

  The smile that formed on Adamas's face was his only warning before he raised both hands with superhuman speed. A barrage of successive palm strikes generated shockwaves that traveled toward Korro, who could only watch helplessly as the attack reached him.

  His body convulsed under the impact of the strikes he had tried so hard to avoid. The precision and power of the shockwaves reverberated through every fiber of his being, his attempts to protect himself proving futile against the brutal beating.

  As abruptly as it began, the punishment ended. Adamas composed himself with elegance while Korro collapsed to his knees, his body battered and bloodied from the multiple wounds the impacts had opened in his skin.

  Adamas approached with determined steps until he stood before his fallen rival, contemplating from above the broken form of the one who dared to challenge him. Korro, with effort, raised his gaze to meet his executioner's eyes.

  "You've forced me to use almost all my strength against you, a mere criminal from the slums," Adamas sneered with disdain. "Did you really think you could infiltrate the world of shamonak just like that? Did you think you could leave behind all the damage you've caused and mock something so sacred? Look at yourself now, on your knees and at death's door."

  Adamas raised his arm, his palm extended, pointing directly at Korro's head.

  At that moment, Korro's vision darkened completely. Darkness enveloped him, but amid the shadows, a sound penetrated his consciousness: distant applause and chants, like an echo from another world.

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  "Killing is forbidden in the arena, so I'll give you a strike that will leave you paralyzed for life. You'll spend the rest of your days immobile, reflecting on your arrogance," he sentenced coldly.

  "Applause?" Korro murmured to himself, trying to locate the source of those sounds flooding his ears. "I always hated that kind of noise."

  His legs refused to respond when he tried to stand up, while the applause grew in intensity, resonating with increasing fervor in his mind.

  "So, what's different now?" he whispered, extending a hand toward the darkness that enveloped him. "Could they be... for me?"

  Suddenly, the applause ceased. The darkness began to dissipate, revealing Adamas with his palm inches away from impacting his head.

  "No," Korro's words emerged as a whisper that cut through the air. "This is how it's always been."

  With a final explosion of will, Korro twisted his body. Adamas's strike impacted his shoulder, destroying bones and tendons, but like a wounded beast, Korro lunged at his opponent. His arms closed around Adamas's waist, pushing him backward with a strength that defied his condition.

  "How is this possible?" Adamas exclaimed, astonished at his dying rival's tremendous power.

  Desperate, Adamas counterattacked with a rain of blows: punches, elbows, and knee strikes that impacted Korro's battered body. But it was useless. Like an unstoppable train, Korro kept advancing until they reached the arena's edge, where Adamas desperately clung to the rough edges.

  Korro's grip began to loosen, his body trembling from the superhuman effort. Adamas, also shaking but on the verge of victory, let out a laugh as he felt his opponent faltering.

  "Damn fool!" he mocked between laughs. "Did you really think you could defeat me like this? Keep dreaming, you'll never be at our level."

  In response, Korro's grip intensified brutally, crushing Adamas's torso. With a supreme effort, Korro raised his head to look directly into his adversary's eyes.

  "Do you really think I want to be at your level?" he spat the words with contempt. "Everything I do, everything I'm enduring, isn't to compare myself to anyone."

  In a lightning movement, Korro hooked his leg behind Adamas's, replicating the technique that Thamuz had used against him. Adamas's balance broke, and both fighters plummeted out of the arena.

  "I do it for myself and no one else!"

  A cloud of dust rose with the impact of their bodies. The spectators stood up, holding their breath while the dust dissipated. When vision finally cleared, the image was unmistakable: Korro remained on top of Adamas, who lay completely stretched out on the ground.

  The bell rang and the announcer's voice proclaimed the verdict that no one expected:

  "The winner is Korro Bastherat!"

  Silence reigned in the arena, interrupted only by the muffled sobs of some of Adamas's followers, devastated by their idol's humiliating defeat. Other looks of contempt were fixed on Korro and his unorthodox victory.

  Korro laboriously rose, his battered shoulder throbbing with an intense purple color. He had barely managed to stand when a brutal impact crashed against his right temple, projecting him against the nearest wall. The thunderous impact resonated throughout the venue as his body became embedded in the wall.

  "Damn bastard!" Adamas roared, standing and consumed by fury. "How dare you defeat me like that?"

  The audience, who normally would have celebrated seeing a criminal getting his due, remained in sepulchral silence. After all, Korro had won cleanly, respecting every rule of shamonak. Adamas's brutality, blinded by wounded pride, was beginning to horrify even his most faithful followers.

  Adamas approached Korro's motionless figure, who lay like a macabre painting against the cracked wall.

  "I'll kill you, damn it, I swear!" he vociferated, raising his palm to deliver the final blow.

  But just before executing his revenge, an iron grip imprisoned his wrist, making the bones crunch beneath his skin.

  "Who the hell dares?" Adamas roared, turning violently.

  The color drained from his face upon encountering an imposing figure that towered over him. His skin, black as the deepest abyss, his majestic horns, and above all, those crimson eyes that seemed to pierce his soul.

  "I kindly ask you..." Thamuz's deep voice vibrated like contained thunder, "to leave my friend alone. His victory was legitimate and according to the rules. Your current behavior is improper and dishonorable."

  Despite Thamuz's measured tone, carefully chosen to prevent unwanted rumors from reaching the wrong ears, Adamas confronted him with manifest contempt.

  "A despicable criminal like this is your friend?" he spat, freeing himself from the grip with a sharp pull. "Then you should be considered just like him."

  "He is my fighting companion and my master's student. My duty is to ensure his safety," declared Thamuz, standing before Adamas. "Is there a problem with that?"

  Humiliation boiled in Adamas's veins. He had never seen Thamuz in shamonak to death battles, so he underestimated him, considering him a mere guard without real ability. Without a word, he discharged a palm strike with all his strength against Thamuz's chest.

  The impact was like hitting pure granite. The bones in his forearms reverberated with the shock, but blinded by rage, Adamas ignored the pain. He continued his frenzied assault against Thamuz's immutable body, while the air filled with the grotesque sound of tearing flesh and splintering bones. Finally, the pain became unbearable and Adamas collapsed to his knees.

  Examining his arms, horror invaded him: his forearms were shattered, with bones protruding through the skin, and his palms seemed to have been crushed by a giant.

  "Behold what your anger has cost you," said Thamuz, leaning towards Adamas's destroyed figure. "You have destroyed a shamonak fighter's most valuable tools."

  Fury still burned in Adamas's eyes as he looked at Thamuz with contempt, wanting to strangle him but unable to move. Realization hit him like a sledgehammer: Thamuz hadn't even felt his strikes. He was invincible, the first who truly deserved that title.

  Thamuz turned towards Korro, ignoring Adamas's internal battle.

  "Friend, you really outdid yourself defeating a superior opponent," Thamuz murmured while carefully extracting Korro from the crack. "Wait until we train together, we'll become much stronger, as I promised."

  Gently, Thamuz placed Korro on his shoulders, careful not to aggravate his injuries. He had barely begun his path toward the corridor when a ball of trash impacted against his head.

  "Booooo!"

  A mocking voice broke the silence, so familiar that Thamuz instinctively looked at his left arm, remembering that dislocation in a fierce combat.

  As he turned his head, he saw him: Khabixan, dressed in elegant white clothes, sitting in the upper stands next to Bhogtan, the first opponent Thamuz had defeated with a single move. Khabixan exhibited a sardonic smile.

  "This combat really ended at the best part," proclaimed Khabixan, standing up with his arms extended theatrically. "Fortunately, someone very special is present to rekindle the flame of these fights: the one who defeated me and has caught my attention."