Ricahard pulled forward, bringing Mark closer to him, finally landing a few solid blows on sowhere other than his face.
He still didn’t retreat now that hand was free, instead he pushed forward in an even aggressive manner.
"What’s wrong Scarlet kid? You’re running out of tricks! What’s next? Gonna stare at to death?
Richard’s Scarlet eyes narrowed, as he watched Mark dodged each one of his attacks with absolute confidence.
Richard’s aura darkened further as the flas dancing along his arms began to intensify, the red hue of the flas darkened into a crimson color.
The air around him crackled, and the crowd roared harder, sensing the imminent escalation.
"What? Losing your temper again?"
Mark’s mocking grin was interrupted as Richard appeared in front of him again, flas shooting out of his feet and his free hand grabbed his face with an inhuman speed.
"Enough!"
Richard’s voice rumbled as flas erupted from his palm, engulfing Mark’s head entirely.
BOOM!
The explosion knocked both fighters apart, Mark tumbling across the arena floor, his body rolling on the floor like a broken doll. The crowd gasped as Richard stood firm, his hand still coated in smoldering embers.
For a mont Richard did nothing, waiting for Mark to get back to his feet. That attack hadn’t been enough to finish the fight earlier, there was no way it was going to do the trick now.
Mark’s body lay motionless for a mont, smoke rising from his charred figure. Then, the distorted spectacle was witnessed again.
Bone shifted, flesh twisted, and skin crawled back in place. Within seconds, Mark was on his feet, grinning as though nothing had happened. His eyes glead with sadistic delight.
"You’re finally taking this seriously, huh?" Mark cracked his neck, the sound echoing in the suddenly silent arena.
"That was what I was waiting for anyways!"
He completed with shrugged shoulders.
Richard said nothing, his body still emanating intense heat. He raised his hand and pointed a finger at Mark.
"You really do talk too much!"
Mark chuckled at his tone, raised his fist and got into a stance.
"You think you’re scary, branch kid? Why don’t I educate you on the concept of fear!"
Mark lunged forward, his speed catching even those who had spectated his previous fights off guard. His movents were wild yet calculated, his fists aiming for Richard’s chest and head in rapid succession.
Richard deflected the first few blows but soon found himself forced into a defensive position. Mark’s regenerative ability allowed him to fight recklessly, throwing punches with no regard for the injuries he sustained in the process.
But Richard wasn’t completely helpless. His hands, blazing like two mini suns, intercepted Mark’s attacks, leaving scorch marks on the latter’s skin.
For every punch Mark landed, Richard returned a fiery blow, each one leaving a mark on the regenerating recruit.
"You’re durable! But that doesn’t an shit!"
Richard said, his voice cold.
Mark’s grin widened.
"And your fire isn’t enough to put down, branch kid!"
Richard’s eyes darkened at the insult.
He sidestepped Mark’s next swing, planting a flaming fist into his opponent’s ribs. The force sent Mark skidding backward, clutching his side as the skin and bone there began to nd.
"Don’t call that!" Richard growled.
"What? Branch kid? Oh, sorry. I forgot you’re a disappointnt, even to them!"
Mark taunted further, his voice dripping with venom.
"Face it kid. You will always be in her shadow!"
Richard froze for a split second, his fist trembling. That mont of hesitation was all Mark needed.
Mark dashed forward, slamming his shoulder into Richard’s chest sending him sprawling. Before Richard could recover, Mark pounced, driving his knee into his opponent’s stomach.
The impact forced the air out of Richard’s lungs, and he bent over in pain.
Mark leaned down, his face inches from Richard’s. "What’s wrong? Did I hit a nerve?"
Richard’s response ca in the form of a fiery explosion. Flas erupted from his body, throwing Mark backward. The arena shook from the sheer force of the blast, and the crowd erupted into cheers and gasps.
When the smoke cleared, Richard was on his feet again. His shirt was in tatters, revealing several fla marks etched across his torso. They pulsed with a rhythmic light, their intensity matching the flas that now engulfed his entire body.
Mark staggered to his feet, his grin faltering for the first ti.
"You were holding back, even in that situation?."
Richard didn’t respond. He stepped forward, each movent causing the ground beneath him to crack. His aura was oppressive, the sheer heat forcing Mark to squint as sweat dripped down his face.
"This is your last chance,"
Richard said, his voice calm but filled with nace.
"Stay down and let beat you up!"
Mark laughed, though it sounded strained.
"You think this scares ?"
Without warning, Mark charged again, but this ti Richard didn’t move. He stood his ground, waiting until the last possible mont. Then, with a single step, he closed the distance between them, driving his fist towards Mark’s chest.
The impact was deafening — a loud CRACK. Mark’s body bent unnaturally as the force of Richard’s punch sent him flying across the arena. He crashed into the ground, skidding to a stop at the edge of the stage. Blood trickled from his mouth as he struggled to stand with his caved in chest, his regeneration slower than before.
Richard walked toward him, his flas dimming slightly but still fierce.
"You can’t win."
Mark coughed, spitting blood onto the ground.
"You think... this is enough... to stop ?"
He stood, his body trembling. His muscles were regenerating, but the process was sluggish, as though his ability was reaching its limit.
Richard tilted his head.
"You don’t know when to quit, do you?"
Mark laughed weakly.
"Neither do you, Scarlet kid."
Richard’s expression hardened, his flas intensifying once more.
"Then I’ll make sure you stay down this ti."
With a burst of speed, he appeared in front of Mark, his fist blazing.
Mark tried to block, but his movents were sluggish, his body worn down from the constant regeneration. Richard’s attack ca in waves, each connecting with his chest, and the flas erupted in a blinding explosion.
When the smoke cleared, Mark was lying motionless on the ground. His body was charred, his regeneration finally failing him. The section of the crowd watching was silent, the tension in the air palpable.
Richard stood over his opponent, his flas extinguished. He looked down at Mark, his expression unreadable.
Then, to everyone’s surprise, Mark’s charred lips curled into a weak smile.
"You’ve... got potential... kid."
With that, Mark’s body went limp, his consciousness fading.
The arena erupted into cheers and applause, the crowd chanting Richard’s na. But Richard didn’t react. He turned away from his defeated opponent, his eyes scanning the crowd.
Kieran watched through the images, his mind racing.
He had seen a glimpse of Richard’s true power, and it surprised him. But more than that, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Richard’s rage had been fueled by sothing far deeper than just pride.
As Richard left the stage, the holographic display switched to a replay of the fight. But Kieran’s attention was elsewhere. His thoughts lingered on the mysterious "her" that Mark had ntioned.
Richard’s unknown sister!
Backstage, Richard leaned against the wall, his head tilted back as he took deep, steady breaths. His marks on his body had dimd, and his body was slick with sweat. But his mind was elsewhere, replaying Mark’s words.
"You’ll always be in her shadow."
His fists clenched, the flas threatening to reignite. But he forced himself to calm down. This wasn’t the ti.
One thing was clear, though. Mark wasn’t wrong. Richard’s connection to "her" was a wound that hadn’t healed, and it was one he intended to confront—sooner rather than later.
With that Kieran had caught up on the last match he happened to miss and had seen how Richard had won the fight.
The realization that he was still far from his goals was sothing that had already set in a long ti ago, but this only amplified his need to double his efforts.
"What do you think of my recruits?"
August’s voice was heard as he pushed his weight onto the two back legs of the chair he sat. The pride in his tone was quite evident for all to see, and the other’s in the room felt that he had the right to.
Two out of his three recruits had managed to get themselves a solid rank for themselves, considering the fact that they were first tirs.
"Don’t get to cocky August!"
Another voice erged, followed by the footsteps of its owner. August’s glee filled expression vanished upon her words.
"I should be telling that to you.."
He muttered beneath his mask.
The instructor who had just walked into the gathering of instructors was Selena and she was the one responsible for Sabrina, Ethan and Liam — all of which had gotten themselves ranks too, in a better manner than even August’s recruits.
’I’m going to butcher that kid, Derrick, when I see him!"
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