The people who just stepped out were none other than Ethan's college dormmates. Seeing them, a warmth spread through his chest.
They knew full well they weren't a match for Trent, yet they still showed up to back him up.
"And who the hell do you five think you are? Trent's just trying to give Ethan so guidance. Why don't you all go chill sowhere else?"
Ethan had been worried that Trent would actually clash with his five dorm mates, because if that happened, there'd be no easy way to deal with the guy afterward.
But right in cue, Liam stepped forward and ran his mouth.
"Liam's right. None of us can beat Trent, so no matter who steps up, we'll just lose. I might as well be his punching bag and help him get so practice in." Ethan spoke without hesitation.
"Ethan…" Rowan grabbed his arm.
"It's fine, big guy," Ethan interrupted. "Trent said he just wants to give so guidance, right?"
"Yeah, yeah, we'll keep it light." Trent put on a magnanimous act, but a glint of malice flashed through his eyes.
'You little punk, I'm going to humiliate you again. Damn it, both your ex and your current girl… What a waste on soone like you.'
If Ethan knew that this whole grudge started because of that, he honestly wouldn't know whether to be amused or just plain amused… or really amused.
The training hall buzzed with excitent. Once the crowd realized Ethan and Trent were about to throw down, they quickly backed up, clearing the center of the floor for the fight.
At that mont, Celeste Hawthorne walked over, her expression unreadable. She looked at Ethan and spoke in a low voice.
"You're aware that in-class sparring has strict regulations. If soone sustains serious injuries or worse, the consequences remain the sa, right?"
Ethan nodded. "I know."
"Good." She turned to leave but, as she passed him, she muttered sothing under her breath.
Ethan froze. He stood there, staring at her back, completely dumbfounded.
Celeste didn't acknowledge his reaction. She walked to the edge of the training hall and turned around, her usual icy deanor firmly in place.
"What are you standing there for?" Trent snapped.
Ethan exhaled sharply and smirked. "Alright then, why don't we go all out? Otherwise, you won't enjoy yourself, right? It's just a fight. If we get banged up, we'll just heal up at ho. We're young, nothing to be afraid of."
Trent's eyes glead with excitent. 'That's exactly what I wanted. Even if you didn't suggest it, I wasn't planning to hold back anyway.'
"Fine by . Let's do this for real." He grinned before turning to the crowd. "You all heard him, right? Ethan agreed to an all-out match. If anything happens, don't bla !"
"Ethan, are you insane?"
"Dude, don't ss around!"
"Co on, don't do this!"
His dormmates were in shock, voices overlapping as they tried to dissuade him.
But Ethan? He simply clasped his hands together and gave Trent a respectful bow.
Trent hesitated for a second before following suit.
As he bowed, Ethan caught sight of the opening, a sharp grin curling at his lips.
Normally, in-class sparring didn't require formal gestures. There was an official global regulation for competitive combat courses:
If both fighters willingly perford a ceremonial bow before a match, it was no longer just a spar, it beca an official fight. As long as neither party surrendered, there were no restrictions on injuries. Even death.
However, if one fighter conceded or was knocked out, any further attacks would still be considered a criminal offense.
The mont Ethan and Trent completed the ceremonial bow, the entire training hall fell silent.
"...Are they actually serious?"
Everyone knew what that gesture ant. After a brief silence, the hall erupted into hushed murmurs.
"Ethan… is he trying to get himself killed?"
"Has he lost his mind?"
"Who knows? Either way, this is straight-up suicide."
"Who do you think's gonna win?"
"Is that even a question? Obviously, it's Trent!"
No one had expected Ethan to initiate the bow first. He had just cut off his own escape route.
Amidst the chatter, Celeste's lips curled into the faintest smile. But with all eyes glued to the fighters in the center, no one noticed.
If they had, they would have been utterly dumbfounded. The Ice Queen… smiling?
anwhile, Trent's eyes glead with ruthless intent. 'Since you're so eager to get wrecked, I won't hold back. If I don't put you in the hospital for a month, I'll livestream myself eating dirt.'
Of course, he only said that in his head. If he had spoken out loud, Ethan would have made him sign a written agreent on the spot. And then? Well, Trent would've had to follow through.
"Let's get started," Trent said.
With a sudden burst of speed, he charged at Ethan. To the spectators, he was lightning-fast.
Many of them clenched their fists, nervous for Ethan.
But in Ethan's eyes, Trent was moving like a sluggish snail. He hadn't fully realized it yet, but his enhanced soul power had drastically sharpened his perception.
As Trent closed in, he threw a punch straight at Ethan's chest.
Earlier, Rowan had warned him about Trent's latest strength test results, 115 kg punch force, 235 kg leg strength, and a 152 kg squat.
Ethan analyzed Trent's movents in an instant. His stance was riddled with openings. He could think of at least a dozen ways to knock him down.
But if Trent went down too quickly and refused to get back up… where was the fun in that?
Instead, Ethan simply pivoted left, brushing past Trent's right side with ease.
Trent reacted quickly, swinging his arm in a desperate attempt to catch Ethan.
Too bad.
Ethan sidestepped effortlessly, now positioned behind him. Using the montum of his turn, he drove his elbow into the center of Trent's back.
Thud.
A dull, heavy sound echoed through the hall.
Trent staggered forward, his whole body seizing up. For a brief mont, just a fraction of a second, his blood circulation stalled. Then, under the sudden pressure from his heart, everything surged violently.
That one hit had already caused serious internal damage. Ethan hadn't held back. A strike to the spine was no joke, if Trent wasn't one of the physically strongest in the class, he might have blacked out on the spot.
Still, his heart had taken a direct hit. Even if he recovered, he could probably kiss any intense physical activity goodbye.
Just as he was struggling to regain his balance, Ethan moved again.
A sharp gust of wind cut through the air.
Trent, still reeling from his montary cardiac arrest, was too dazed to react.
Then—
Smack.
A loud, crisp slap landed across his face, sending him stumbling sideways. Before he could collapse, Ethan was already on the move.
Smack.
Another slap, this ti to his left cheek, straightening him back up.
Ethan wasn't done yet. He wasn't about to let Trent hit the floor, not until he had landed the finishing blow.
User Comments
0 comments from readers