The next match finally involved Gon.
His posture was slightly hunched, his sword held firmly in one hand, but there was an underlying nervousness in his movents.
Across from him stood Ajel, a mage with an aura of effortless confidence.
He wore simple, loose clothes, revealing his bare hands, each wrapped in heavy brass knuckles.
His eyes, though seemingly casual, held an intensity that suggested his speed could rival a lightning strike.
The crowd had already started whispering about Ajel’s abilities—his insane speed, his raw power, and his unmatched agility.
Gon had heard the rumors, and they had only fueled his nerves.
As the bell rang, Gon’s heart raced.
His first instinct was to keep his distance, analyzing Ajel’s movents and waiting for an opening.
He gripped his sword tighter, trying to steady his breath.
The key was patience, he reminded himself.
He had to think before acting, otherwise he wouldn’t stand a chance against soone like Ajel.
Ajel cracked his knuckles, his eyes never leaving Gon.
He gave a sharp, taunting grin before imdiately rushing forward.
His movent was so fast it was nearly a blur, and Gon’s eyes widened in surprise.
He had heard about Ajel’s speed, but seeing it firsthand was sothing else entirely.
Gon tried to react, stepping back and bringing his sword up to deflect the incoming blows, but Ajel was already upon him.
The mage’s fists collided with Gon’s guard, each strike like a battering ram.
Gon felt the impact resonate through his bones, his arms already beginning to ache from the power behind each hit.
He barely managed to keep his footing as Ajel continued his relentless assault, moving faster than Gon could track.
Every ti Gon tried to parry, Ajel was already gone, slipping out of reach like water slipping through his fingers.
Gon’s sword didn’t even get a chance to touch Ajel’s skin before the mage was attacking again.
The sheer speed and unpredictability of the blows left Gon on the defensive, struggling to find a rhythm.
His breath ca in sharp gasps, and his mind raced, trying to analyze the pattern of Ajel’s attacks.
The mage was fast, but that speed ca with a cost—there had to be a mont, a small window, when Ajel left himself open.
Gon just had to find it.
Suddenly, Ajel dashed in close, faster than Gon could react.
One of Ajel’s knuckles smashed into his ribs with a sickening crack.
Gon staggered back, pain shooting through his side.
He winced, trying to steady himself, but before he could regain his balance, Ajel was already moving in again.
His speed was blinding, and Gon was left reeling from each strike that hit its mark.
The crowd’s roars seed distant as Gon fought to keep his focus. Keep moving. Think. Find a way to outsmart him.
The next few monts were a blur of pain and barely-blocked blows.
Each ti Gon brought up his sword to deflect a punch, it was like the mage had anticipated it. Gon’s arms were sore, his sword hand trembling, but he refused to drop his weapon.
He couldn’t afford to.
Ajel’s next attack ca from an unexpected angle—his fist aid straight for Gon’s jaw.
Gon barely managed to slip sideways in ti, the knuckles grazing his cheek.
It was enough to draw blood, but the mont of dodging gave him a brief respite.
He quickly activated his shadow step, vanishing into the darkness and reappearing behind Ajel.
His sword slashed through the air, but Ajel was already spinning, using his speed to narrowly avoid the blow.
Gon gritted his teeth, sweat dripping down his face.
He couldn’t keep up with Ajel’s speed. Every ti he tried to land a hit, Ajel was already gone.
But it wasn’t just the speed—it was the rhythm.
Ajel’s movents were like a symphony, each punch and movent so perfectly tid, it was as though the mage could predict Gon’s every move.
Gon felt the frustration building, but he knew that if he gave in to it, he would lose.
He needed to remain calm. Intelligence over brute force, he thought.
Gon used his shadow step again, but this ti he didn’t reappear imdiately behind Ajel.
Instead, he appeared a few feet to the left, just beyond the reach of Ajel’s current strike.
It was a subtle move, one that would have been nearly impossible to spot.
The mont Gon reappeared, he felt a surge of adrenaline.
This ti, he didn’t hesitate.
He activated his iron veil, coating his body in a thin layer of magical protection, giving him just enough strength to block Ajel’s next punch without being knocked back.
The impact was still hard, but the iron veil absorbed most of the damage.
Gon followed through with his sword, slashing with precision.
The blade connected with Ajel’s side, drawing a small line of blood.
It was the first real hit Gon had landed, and it felt like a breakthrough.
Ajel staggered back slightly, montarily surprised by the attack.
Gon’s heart raced.
He could feel the window of opportunity opening, but he knew it wouldn’t last long.
Ajel’s expression darkened, his grin replaced by a focused intensity.
He rushed forward again, faster than before, but Gon was ready.
He used his shadow step once more, positioning himself just above Ajel’s path.
As Ajel’s knuckles ca forward, Gon dropped from above, aiming a precise slash to the mage’s unguarded side.
This ti, the strike landed with more force, and Ajel let out a grunt of pain as the sword pierced through his clothing, leaving a shallow cut.
He staggered backward, his movents suddenly slower.
The crowd erupted in cheers, but Gon didn’t have ti to revel in the mont.
Ajel was still a formidable opponent, and Gon knew that a single mistake could turn the tide back in the mage’s favor.
Ajel’s next move ca too quickly. He lunged again, but this ti his speed was slightly reduced—his reaction ti a fraction off.
Gon didn’t hesitate.
He raised his sword and launched himself forward, using his iron veil to absorb a punch aid at his chest.
With his free hand, he used the montum to thrust his sword upward, right into the mage’s side.
Ajel’s eyes widened in shock as the blade found its mark, and for a mont, everything seed to freeze.
He staggered backward, his breath ragged, as he finally collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Gon stood over him, panting heavily.
He had done it.
The victory had co not from sheer strength, but from his ability to think and wait for the right mont.
His nerves, which had plagued him at the beginning, had led him to calculate every step of the fight.
In the end, it was his intelligence that won the day.
Reviews
All reviews (0)