Ambrose crashed into the cage wall and coughed up blue blood.
'T-the hell?' He groaned loudly and stood up, feeling like he had lost the feeling from half of his face.
'He isn't slow; he was just playing around.'
In the office, Norman watched the fight alone, as Adam had to fight soon.
'Nykholm is the only fighter I know that can tank a few punches from Adam.' Norman's eyes were fixed on Ambrose. 'Nykholm is stronger, faster, and more durable than you. How can you win?'
Near the changing room, Adam watched from the back of the crowd as the fight played out.
'If you defeat him, I'll truly be impressed, Ambrose.'
In the cage, Nykholm sent explosive punches that struck Ambrose like sledgehamrs.
Ambrose couldn't do anything to block the attacks and tried desperately to dodge, but the muscular man was sohow way faster than him, always able to land a blow.
Nykholm, with his shoulder in front of him, tackled Ambrose, sending him flying across the cage.
His back crashed against the cage, and he slowly fell down to his knees.
He was bleeding heavily, with scratches and bruises covering his torso.
"Whoo..." Ambrose let out a deep breath and shook his head as he felt like he was getting far too comfortable, as if he wanted to just lay down and sleep.
It ant he almost lost consciousness from getting hit in the head a little bit too much.
Stomp—at this mont, Nykholm again approached him. This ti, he had intentions to end this fight once and for all.
He swung his fist with all his might behind him, his muscles rippling like a powerful storm and his fist looking like a falling boulder, growing bigger and bigger with each passing mont.
Smack—the fist landed on Ambrose's chest, sending him crashing into the wall like a wrecking ball.
The sound of Ambrose hitting the cage was very haunting, and the crowd felt like they wanted to forget that sound, as it sounded like one of their worst nightmares.
The impact left Ambrose dazed and disoriented; his body slumped against the cage in a lifeless heap.
"Yeaaaah!" Nykholm raised his fists high and celebrated his victory.
The announcer was about to announce the winner, but then the crowd turned silent as they all saw an unimaginable scene.
"Hmm?" Nykholm frowned after not hearing any cheers. He then turned around, and to his surprise, the black-haired man with a bruised and bloodied body was still standing, his arms raised in the boxing stance.
"It feels heavy..." Ambrose thought out loud as he struggled to keep his balance.
He hadn't felt like this before, as if he were dragging a whole truck behind him.
His legs felt weak, and his vision was blurry, as if everything were nothing but hazy images that he couldn't quite make out.
However, there was one person who was as clear as the sky to him.
It was Nykholm.
"I feel much better..." Ambrose said, even though he felt heavy, his shoulders were aching from the weight of the exhaustion.
"You are more durable than I thought, little rabbit, but is this rely foolish bravado?" Nykholm asked with a scoff and approached him with a long stride.
Ambrose flexed his muscles and opened his hands from the fists, then lowered himself, his knees bending and his body leaning forward. His hands looked like they were going to grab sothing from the air.
At that mont, Nykholm threw another explosive punch that looked like it would be the final blow if it landed on his opponent.
A few female mbers of the crowd looked away as they expected this to be over, but the more hardcore fans wanted to see Nykholm's opponent's head explode from the punch, which had happened quite often.
At that mont, Ambrose lunged forward, dove under the fist, and grabbed the back of Nykholm's legs, and then he flipped him over and slamd him to the ground.
Slam—as Nykholm crashed to the ground, a loud sound reverberated across the room.
"Cough..." Nykholm coughed the air out of his lungs and struggled to get up.
But then Ambrose wrapped his arms around Nykholm's neck, then wrapped his feet around his torso, and started choking him.
Almost instantly, Nykholm's face started changing colors as he lost the ability to breathe.
While feeling his neck get crushed by the pair of powerful arms, he saw the ceiling's bright lights fall upon his face.
At that mont, his eyes bulged like crazy and desperate, and a crazed look appeared on his face as if he could feel his death approaching.
He ignored the crowd's loud shouting and the pain in his body.
Nykholm, with unimaginable athletic ability, managed to push himself upward, soon standing with Ambrose, who was desperately trying to choke him out.
"T-the hell!" Ambrose groaned loudly and saw that Nykholm's neck muscles sohow started to swell, as if his body was instinctively trying to protect him from getting choked out!
This was an unimaginable scenario, which Ambrose didn't expect at all, as this went beyond human capabilities.
Nykholm grabbed Ambrose's arms, sinking his fingers deep into his flesh and causing a spray of blood.
"Argh, shit!" Ambrose's eyes shrank as he lost the feeling of his arms for a mont, and that gave Nykholm enough ti to remove his arms from his neck.
Then, Nykholm grabbed Ambrose by his head and slamd him straight to the cage wall as if he were using him as a ragdoll to vent his anger.
"Raaah!" Nykholm then dragged Ambrose's head against the cage's tallic surface, causing the pieces of his flesh and skull to tear and shred.
While Ambrose felt that he was completely at Nykholm's rcy, he saw his health drop.
[Ambrose - HP: 111/560]
As Nykholm slamd his head against the cage, his health dropped every second.
It would take less than ten seconds for his health to fully drop to zero and die.
In the office, Norman shook his head and whispered under his breath that it was over.
There was a mont that he thought Ambrose would win, but then Nykholm showed why he was one of the strongest fighters in the tournant.
Adam watched with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
Nykholm then lifted Ambrose's body, looking at his disfigured face with half of the face having no flesh.
"Not bad, little rabbit; I almost lost." Nykholm dropped him to the ground; he folded like a ragdoll. "I'll crush your head like a pumpkin."
He lifted his foot and put it on top of Ambrose's head, ready to crush his skull.
'I don't want to be in here...' Ambrose scratched the ground, leaving behind blood trails. 'I hate this place... Gas were supposed to be fun... This isn't fun...'
Ambrose's voice was weak and trembling.
'Don't die!'
Bonney's voice echoed in his mind—the voice sounded weak, as if she had used all of her strength to say it.
'E-easier said than done...' Ambrose tried to stand up, but his body felt weak, and Nykholm imdiately pushed his head back down with his feet.
Nykholm lifted his feet and smirked, then slamd it right down.
At that mont, invisible hands appeared around Ambrose's shoulders, making him roll sideways.
Smash—the foot missed the head by an inch.
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