I took a deep breath. My heart pounded in my ears and my eyes scanned the enemy across from me.

  Vincent.

  Short silver hair, grey skin, wearing a bck gi with sinister red lines going through it. Red eyes full of fire burning through me. Rage and hatred threatening to tear me apart, like the anger of a primal beast. And yet his movements were smooth, like flowing metal. He reminded me in that moment like nothing more than a demon vying for control with only the thinnest of margins.

  “Ready?” Master said.

  We stood in a room I hadn’t even known existed. A deeper basement than even where the healing tanks were. An empty room and almost hidden stairs had led down here. It had shocked me when I’d seen it. A stone arena. It was very clearly designed and meant for fighting. The rock beneath my feet had just the slightest amount of give. I took it all in as I stared into Vincent’s eyes.

  My own racing heartbeat, the flow of my blood throughout my body, the weight of the training clothes bringing me down to a far more familiar speed and strength as it threatened to crush me, the stale but charged air between us.

  We understood each other more than anyone else did. Even my own mother wouldn’t have understood me as I currently was. I’d changed. I continued to change. And my goal came ever closer with every step of my own two feet. From a drunk to a punching bag, to dying in the sewers and now fighting a true warrior. I’d seen him every step of the way and I knew for a fact.

  He was going to kill me if given the chance.

  I’d realized it the moment we’d locked eyes. My heartbeat had skyrocketed seeing the killing intent practically radiating through him. I don’t even know if he realized it himself. Just how serious this was to him, just how much it meant to him. This wasn’t just a spar, this was his final chance to earn Master’s teachings in his eyes. To get closer to getting revenge.

  Amusingly, it wasn’t Vega that spurned me on. That was a distant goal and dream, a raging hatred I’d use ter. A far more mortal, a far more familiar urge spurned me on. One that lit up my veins like no other, a feeling that screamed through my mind and sent electric shocks throughout my nerves like fire.

  Survival.

  Vega was Vega but I could die here.

  We both waited, muscles tense, eyes sharp, breath even.

  “Go.” Master said.

  Vincent shot towards me like a rocket, his feet kicking up dust in his path. Like a raging Asura, his face snarled and his eyes burned. It was clear that it was only muscle memory that made his movements anything more than a beast’s. His hand shot forward, aiming for my chest. I stepped to the side, hand thrust out to deflect the arm further and his steps changed in a moment and-

  Pain radiated from my side as a force like a hammer smmed into me. A flurry of hell unleashed, fists like lightning smming into me like hammers striking metal. Dozens of punches each with shocking strength hit me like a storm. My eyes shook in shock as I felt agony shake through me, my body growing beaten and bruised.

  One smmed into my face and then another and another and-

  I caught it then. The look in Vincent’s eyes. It had changed.

  I smmed my foot down and dodged a blow that would’ve shattered my face by the barest of margins. I knew it.

  He was going to kill me.

  Vincent was trying to kill me.

  Blow after blow after blow came towards me and I raised my arms up. I bent and stepped, never staying still, weaving around the room, as I threw my hands out, smming my palms into his forearms. It took every ounce of concentration to dodge, step, and deflect, and every hit stung my palms like striking a speeding car but it was that or die.

  I refused. I would not die here. I would not die before I killed Vega.

  His form grew sloppy, his footwork worse and finally, my punch sailed forth and crashed into his face.

  My punches were no longer that of a level [6] or [7]. They were no longer something that could be ignored. And Vincent’s power level was the same as mine. It hit him like a wrecking ball, momentarily stopping the fierce flurry of his arms, and I took advantage.

  I jumped and used what I’d learned from Ragual. My leg whipped back and tried to sm into his side. He raised an arm up to block. He gritted his teeth at the blow as his whole body seemed to shake like water and I quickly dashed backwards the moment I nded on the ground. I frowned. There was time to counter. He could’ve, but he hadn’t.

  “Strong.” He said, as if it was shocking.

  I frowned. Not just at his words. The look in his eyes was calmer now, less angry. That wasn’t actually better for me, was it?

  I had a bad feeling about this.

  His hot gaze nded on me and I took a deep breath, assessing quickly. I could feel a dozen bruises across my body. Nothing broken, yet, but I already felt like I’d been hit with fists a few times stronger than Ragual’s Gut punch. That was shocking. My durability was night and day compared to before but still. Vincent was hitting me hard enough to crack stone.

  And my own kick! My leg still hurt like I’d kicked an iron wall but the strength I’d felt behind it, even in these clothes…

  What on Vega had we become?

  That’s when I realized it. He wasn’t talking about me when he said ‘Strong.’

  He was talking about himself.

  He unched forward, far more controlled this time, his footwork impeccable. His steps like a dance even as he ran. With the weight of the clothes, I could even see every single movement. This wasn’t the work of a day or two, this was decades worth of practice in motion. Vincent was a trained warrior and I… was not.

  It showed immediately.

  No longer like a raging bull, his hands moved like hammer blows, yes, but like ones wielded by snakes. Every movement connected, every motion in line with another, adapted in a moment against other movements. Heart, chest, kidney, chest again, liver, arm. I could see it, but I couldn’t dodge it. His technique, his martial arts, it was like the hammering of an anvil. Like the forging done by a bcksmith.

  I was outcssed and he broke me.

  It felt like I was stuck in a quagmire of hell as every single punch connected and shook me, adding together, beating me down. I could feel all of my ribs start to crack, my arms start to give out from punches reigning down, and my body vibrate like a beaten piece of metal.

  It was as horrifying as it was brutal.

  My attempts to deflect failed, my feints were seen through, my kicks didn’t give me any distance, or ended up with a nearly broken leg, and I felt like a helpless child before a merciless machine. It was a brutal, rough style, but it was still more than I had.

  Nothing I did was working! Nothing! I surged forward, trying to do something, anything, and received a blow like a shotgun to my face for the trouble. Another hit came, a final one and-

  I dodged at the st moment, somehow nding another hit, before the rain of blows continued and continued. I was smashed into the ground and only then, lying broken and beaten, did the punches stop.

  Blood pooled out my mouth, something inside me was very unhappy with me. My mind was busy with something else though.

  I had lost.

  I looked over to Master and-

  He was frowning. Heavily. While staring directly at me.

  Damn it.

  ******

  “Well, you both suck.” Was the first thing he said.

  Both of our eyes widened at that. Me, I could get, but Vincent too? Vincent almost looked like he was offended.

  “What, you learned a little bit and you think that makes you good Vincent? You won a single spar against a Vilge idiot.” Hey. “And you think that makes you special? That’s the wrong sort of pride to have. Do better. You are either barely competent warriors with no real training,” He looked at me and I had to resist the urge to scream ‘What about our months of training then?!’ before he turned to Vincent. “Or no real combat experience.”

  I blinked at that. Surely, Vincent would’ve fought other people right? Other spars, other battles. Why was Master implying he was as green as I was?

  “Master…” Vincent spoke hesitantly. This might be the longest conversation the two had ever had. “Does Mutai truly have no real training?”

  “Huh?”

  Why was I being talked about?

  “He spent half a year fighting for his life down in the sewers. He learned on the job.”

  I nodded. Maybe that fact was surprising, though I don’t think Vincent would understand. He hadn’t exactly been in the city long before he got roped into this. It wouldn’t be strange at all for him not to know how dangerous the sewers were-

  “My cn… has- Had heard of Vega City’s sewers. How did he- Wait, his Power Level was [10] when I met him.”

  “Yes, he went in at Level [3].”

  Vincent stared at me in horror. Considering he just beat me bck and blue, with plenty of red all over, I found the situation comical. Yeah, I survived something awful, but clearly it hadn’t helped nearly that much, did it? Survival is just survival. Doesn’t mean I’m going to become some great fighter.

  My mood was a bit sour at the moment.

  “I see… truly, life or death experiences can turn anyone into a great warrior.”

  I spped the back of Vincent’s head. Asshole.

  “Why?!”

  I ignored him, staring at Master.

  “Well anyway, get to the healing tank you two. Should take less than an hour for any injuries of this level to go away. Then, you’ll be fighting me.”

  What.

  ******

  Master stared at his two students as they walked away, his brows furrowed. Vincent did fine, that made sense, his Cn wasn’t weak and were actually keeping up with being warriors. Well, before they were wiped out to one man.

  But Mutai…

  Where did he learn to fight like that? That doesn’t make any sense. There was plenty there a novice shouldn’t have been able to do. It wasn’t beyond reason, he could’ve trained down in the sewers, but even so… that footwork didn’t come from survival alone. He said he met people down there but did they train him more than he said?

  A sneaking suspicion grew in his heart but he quelled it.

  After all, he’d know in about an hour after he beat the two of them to near death.

  Warix_Viviana