464 True Endurance
***
In another place, a makeshift arena had ford, carved out of a frozen wasteland littered with jagged ice formations, rubble, and the shattered remains of earlier skirmishes.
The cold was everpresent—biting, the kind that gnawed at the bones and even chilled the soul—but for the two combatants at its center, it was nothing more than a harsh stage for their brutal duel.
Kremlin, the Russian Brawler, stood tall like a mountain, his massive fra covered in thick, muscle-bound flesh that seed impenetrable to the icy winds of his own making.
Facing him was another Brawler, nearly as massive, nearly as imposing, with eyes that glinted with fire.
His re presence seed to lt the ice around him, making for quite a beautiful clash of the elents. Judging by that sight, it made complete sense that the duel had lasted this long.
And that wasn't a surprise to Kremlin.
The firey Brawler had revealed himself as one of the Liberation Army's leaders early on. Since then, Kremlin knew he wouldn't be an easy opponent to take down.
His strength matched that of the Arcanist Iron Reich had defeated earlier—a foe equal in power and just as dangerous.
Both n had already lost their force shields, but neither had bothered to use an energy stim. They preferred to rely on their raw power and abilities to see themselves through the fight.
Now they circled each other, their breaths visible in the cold air, eyes locked.
They knew what was coming and how it all would end.
This was not going to be a quick fight.
Rather, this was a test of who could endure longer.
"Dodge this!"
The fiery Brawler made the first move, a sudden sidestep followed by a heavy punch aid directly at Kremlin's midsection.
"Hah! I ain't dodging shit Blackwood's slave!"
But he was ready, his arm already moving to intercept.
"MY NA IS DAMIEN DAMMIT!"
Their fists collided with a bone-jarring impact, a shockwave of force that sent ripples of fire and ice through the air around them.
For a mont, it seed as if ti stood still; the two Brawlers locked in a contest of strength as their muscles bulged and strained against each other.
"RAH!"
But then Kremlin grunted and pushed forward, using his superior bulk to force his opponent back a step.
"Hmph!"
Damien responded with a grim smile, and then they traded blows with the ferocity of two wild beasts, punching the ever-living shit out of each other.
Kremlin feinted a left, then threw a quick jab at his opponent's head.
Damien ducked, swinging a powerful hook toward Kremlin's ribs.
Kremlin blocked it with his forearm, the impact sending a shockwave of pain up his arm, but he ignored it and countered with an uppercut.
The punch landed squarely on his opponent's jaw, snapping his head back, but Damien barely flinched.
Instead, he retaliated with a knee to Kremlin's gut, forcing the air from his lungs.
They separated briefly then lunged at each other again, fists flying in a flurry of Rapid Strikes.
Both got pushed back, and Kremlin used that small pause to his advantage.
"YOU WILL DIE!"
With a guttural roar, he activated Berserker's Rage.
His muscles swelled, veins bulging as his strength and speed increased exponentially.
"WE'LL SEE ABOUT THAT!"
Damien mirrored the ability, and they were back at it, the increased ferocity of their attacks leaving no room for defense.
Kremlin's icey fists beca blurs of motion, each strike landing with the force of speeding trucks.
His opponent matched him blow for blow, the two Brawlers turning into a whirlwind of fists and feet, neither willing to give an inch.
The ground beneath them lted, froze, cracked, and shattered as they slamd into each other, their bodies creating small craters at each step.
"Gah!"
Kremlin managed to catch his opponent with a powerful right hook, sending him crashing into a nearby ice formation, a result of his Iron Fist.
But Damien recovered quickly, breaking free of the ice with fire spewing out his hands, his eyes blazing with rage.
He charged at Kremlin, who stood his ground, and the two clashed again, their fists colliding in mid-air with a thunderous boom.
Kremlin felt the impact echo through his muscles and no doubt his opponent felt the sa, but they pushed it aside, focusing on the next strike, the next impact.
And as the battle dragged on, both Brawlers began to incorporate their elents even further, no longer caring about saving their reserves.
Kremlin summoned a coating of ice over the gauntlets covering his fists, turning them into jagged, freezing weapons.
Damien did the sa, but instead of a simple fire, it was concentrated, conjuring a coating of a lave-like material.
BOOM!
Their next clash was an explosion that sent shards of ice and pieces of lava flying in all directions.
"DIE!"
Kremlin swung at Damien's head, but the man ducked and countered with a sharp elbow to Kremlin's ribs, the fire burning his flesh.
"Guh...!"
Kremlin grunted in pain but retaliated with a headbutt that sent Damien staggering backward.
Then, at that mont, he finally decided to use a certain ability. It was obvious. They had been holding back, neither wanting to be the first to use it.
They knew the risk—once the cooldown was triggered, they wouldn't be able to use it again for a few seconds.
Whoever activated that ability first would reveal their strategy, and if they failed, that would give the second fighter a critical advantage, learning what not to do for their attack to succeed.
To go first was a wrong move.
But Kremlin didn't care, or rather, he stopped caring.
He was no tactician. He wasn't interested in carefully crafted plans or drawn-out mind gas.
And as Emir had observed before, Kremlin truly didn't use his brain much, preferring to let his fists do the talking, and they sure did talk, nearing volus of words.
"DRAGON'S ROAR!"
The sound was deafening—primal, an earth-shaking bellow that reverberated inside their minds.
Damien, caught off guard, was montarily stunned, fear taking over his mind.
Kremlin didn't waste the opportunity.
He lunged forward, landing a series of Rapid Strikes to his opponent's torso, each one driving him back further and further as his bones began to break.
But Damien recovered quickly, pushing away the fear and responding with his own Dragon's Roar that sent Kremlin reeling, montarily freezing him.
"You'll die, you bastard!"
Even as Damien got close, about to give him a world of hurt, Kremlin's smile remained. Not because he liked the pain; he wasn't much of a masochist, nor was it because of his excitent, but because he was prepared. A mont before the stun took hold, Kremlin silently chanted, "Unyielding Stance."
It was the sixth ability of the Brawler Path.
It being unlocked was a secret he had kept close to his chest.
While Kremlin wasn't as smart or talented as their leader, his Path was simpler, allowing him to unlock his sixth ability much faster than the others.
Though they could unlock their sixth ability, they were still stabilizing the fifth, leaving them unable to catch up.
So if this was revealed, so unneeded drama would unfold, and it certainly wasn't the ti for that.
This was why only Iron Reich and Aquila knew, and Kremlin had intended to keep it that way.
But now, with no other choice, he had to risk the secret getting out.
Damien recovered from the fear far quicker than he had anticipated.
Now, Unyielding Stance, as its na implied, was a defensive ability.
Typically, the user would adopt a particular stance to maximize its effects, but Kremlin, being stunned, couldn't take that stance.
Yet even without it, the defensive buffs kicked in, and his body hardened to the strength of the most unbreakable ice.
That was all he needed.
"EAT MY FLAS!"
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Kremlin took punch after punch, his head twisting left, right, and up, burns spreading all over his body. But it didn't last long.
The mont his stun wore off, Kremlin's own ability activated.
"DRAGON'S ROAR!"
He did the sa to his opponent, though with a lot more damage, his icey fists punching the man black and blue.
And once the firey Brawler got out his stun, he activated his Dragon's Roar, resetting the cycle.
They took turns like this—one roaring, the other punching—repeating the brutal exchange no less than ten tis.
Each turn took less and less ti, the gap between their recoveries shrinking rapidly.
Their minds grew more resilient as their battered bodies tired.
It wasn't much longer before their roars had no effect on each other.
The fear that once froze them in place was nullified, both due to their dwindling Aether reserves and their minds simply becoming accustod to it.
Now, this fight was down to raw endurance—no abilities, no tricks—just sheer willpower and strength.
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