Garin moved fast—much faster than Jelo had anticipated.
He twisted his body at the last possible second, Jelo’s fist sailing past his face by re inches and slamming into the wall behind him instead.
The impact left a small crack in the plaster, but Garin didn’t have ti to be impressed or terrified. He was already moving, using the montum of his dodge to push hard against Jelo’s chest with his good hand.
The shove caught Jelo off guard, and he stumbled backward several steps, creating crucial distance between them.
Garin didn’t waste the opportunity. His good hand shot to his belt where he’d stashed his weapon after class—the chain with the wicked sickle attached at the end. In one fluid motion, he drew it and imdiately began swinging it in tight, controlled loops.
The chain sang through the air, the sickle blade catching the dim light of the stairwell as it whirled in increasingly complex patterns. Garin had clearly trained extensively with this weapon. Despite his injury, despite being off-balance and bleeding, his control was precise and deadly.
The narrow corridor of the stairwell suddenly beca Garin’s advantage.
He used the confined space brilliantly, bouncing the chain off the walls and railings to create unpredictable attack angles. The sickle would snap toward Jelo from the left, ricochet off the tal railing, and co back from the right. It would arc high toward the ceiling and dive down toward Jelo’s legs. The constant motion, the changing angles, the ricocheting attacks—it was designed to keep an opponent constantly reacting, never able to mount an offense.
The sickle snapped toward Jelo’s legs.
Jelo activated Scaled Guard instinctively, his skin hardening as dragon-like scales rippled across his body. The sickle blade struck his shin with a tallic clang, and while the scales prevented the blade from cutting through, the impact still rattled him. The force traveled up through his leg, making him grit his teeth.
Another strike ca from above, the chain having wrapped around an overhead pipe. The sickle dove down toward Jelo’s shoulder. Again, Scaled Guard protected him from being cut, but the blunt force of the impact was still considerable.
Garin was thriving in this environnt, using every surface, every angle, every bit of the narrow corridor to his advantage. He kept Jelo constantly reacting, constantly defending, never able to counter-attack or press his superior strength.
The chain whipped around again, and this ti it wrapped partially around Jelo’s ankle. Garin yanked hard, pulling Jelo off balance.
Jelo stumbled, his arms windmilling as he tried to maintain his footing. He managed to stay upright, but barely.
Garin didn’t give him ti to recover. The sickle ca in again, this ti aid at Jelo’s exposed ribs while he was still off-balance.
The blade struck true.
Even with Scaled Guard active, the force of the blow drove the air from Jelo’s lungs. The scales prevented the sickle from cutting deep, but the impact felt like being hit with a tal bat. Pain exploded through his side, and Jelo stumbled backward toward the stairs.
His foot caught on the edge of a step and he went down hard, landing on the stairs in an awkward heap. The angle was terrible—if he fell further, he could tumble down the entire flight.
Garin pressed his advantage rcilessly. The chain whirled again, the sickle coming down toward Jelo’s head.
Jelo rolled to the side desperately, the blade sparking against the concrete step where his head had been a split-second before. He scrambled to his feet, his ribs aching, his breathing labored.
He tried to create space, tried to channel energy for a Dragon Claw attack. His hand ca up, mana beginning to gather around his fingers, the translucent claw-shape starting to form—
The chain struck him in the forearm, disrupting his concentration. The partially-ford Dragon Claw dissipated uselessly.
Jelo gritted his teeth and tried again, backing up another step, raising his other hand to channel the attack—
Another strike from the sickle, this ti catching him in the shoulder. The Dragon Claw failed to materialize again.
The dorm lights flickered overhead, the shadows dancing wildly as steel continued to crack against Jelo’s hardened skin. Each impact sent reverberations through the stairwell, a rhythmic clanging that echoed ominously.
For most of the fight, Garin’s precision and experience with his weapon left Jelo struggling just to defend himself, let alone mount any kind of effective counter-attack. Every ti Jelo tried to use his abilities, Garin’s relentless pressure interrupted him, forced him to dodge or block instead.
Garin’s confidence was growing with each successful strike. He could see that despite Jelo’s mysterious increase in strength, despite whatever had allowed him to throw Garin across the weapons training hall, the rank F student lacked combat experience. Lacked training. Was relying entirely on raw power without the skill to apply it effectively.
"Not so tough now, are you?" Garin taunted between strikes, his breathing heavy but his movents still controlled. "All that power and you don’t even know how to use it!"
The chain whirled again, faster now, more aggressive. Garin was moving in for the finish, sensing his opponent’s weakness.
The sickle ca in high, then low, then from the side—a combination designed to overwhelm Jelo’s defenses entirely. Garin pulled the chain tight, preparing for a final, decisive strike that would wrap around Jelo’s neck and either strangle him or drag him down to be finished off.
But this ti, sothing changed.
Jelo stopped backing up. Stopped trying to dodge. Instead, he planted his feet firmly on the stairs, his stance widening, his center of gravity dropping.
He anchored himself.
The chain ca whistling toward him, the sickle aid directly at his throat in what should have been the killing blow.
Jelo channeled his mana, not hesitantly this ti but with full commitnt. He poured everything he had into the attack, the energy gathering around his hand so quickly it created a visible distortion in the air.
And then he unleashed Dragon Claw in a sudden, explosive burst.
The projected claw shot forward with devastating force. It was larger than the ones Jelo had used before, more solid, more deadly. The translucent energy took the shape of a massive dragon’s claw, each talon sharp and defined.
It struck the incoming chain dead-on.
The Dragon Claw shredded through the weapon like it was paper. The chain links shattered, fragnts of tal scattering in all directions. The sickle blade itself was torn from its moorings and went spinning off to clatter uselessly against the far wall.
Garin’s eyes went wide with shock and horror as his weapon disintegrated before his eyes.
But the Dragon Claw didn’t stop there. It continued forward, now aid directly at Garin himself.
Garin tried to dodge, tried to throw himself to the side, but he was too slow, too committed to his previous attack, too shocked by the destruction of his weapon.
Seizing the narrow opening, Jelo closed the distance with shocking speed. His enhanced stats from leveling up made him far faster than any rank F student should be.
He ford another Dragon Claw with his other hand and sent it directly at Garin from point-blank range.
The energy construct hit Garin square in the chest.
The impact was devastating. Garin’s feet actually left the ground as he was lifted and thrown backward. He crashed into the wall with trendous force, the breath driven completely from his lungs. Then he crumpled to the ground, landing in a heap on the cold floor.
The system notification appeared in Jelo’s vision, cold and chanical:
[Opponent Defeated: 40 ESS]
[Quest Completed: New Skill Unlocked - Wingburst]
But Jelo didn’t stop.
The quest might be complete, but the burning obsession in his chest hadn’t faded. If anything, it had intensified, demanding more, demanding total victory, demanding that Garin understand the consequences of his actions.
Jelo moved forward quickly, his boots echoing on the stairs as he closed the distance to where Garin lay groaning on the ground.
Garin tried to raise his good hand defensively, tried to speak, to surrender, to beg—
Jelo jumped on him, straddling his chest, pinning him to the ground.
And then he started punching.
His fist ca down on Garin’s face once. Twice. Three tis.
Blood sprayed from Garin’s nose, which broke with an audible crack on the second punch. His lip split open wider. A cut opened above his eyebrow.
Garin tried to protect his face with his good arm, but Jelo batted it aside and kept hitting him.
Four tis. Five tis. Six.
"This—" Punch. "..is for.. " Punch. "—Atlas!"
Garin’s struggles were getting weaker. His attempts to defend himself beca feeble, his arm dropping limply to his side.
Seven tis. Eight. Nine.
Blood was everywhere now, on Jelo’s fists, on Garin’s ruined face, splattered on the floor around them. Garin’s features were becoming unrecognizable, swelling and bruising rapidly.
Ten tis. Eleven.
Garin’s eyes rolled back in his head. His body went completely limp, unconscious, no longer even trying to resist.
But Jelo hit him one more ti for good asure.
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