Marco dodged to the side, and Elias’ kick brushed past his shirt, missing by mere centimeters. He pivoted, coiled his arm back, and fired a punch in retaliation, aiming to slip it past Elias' guard—but Elias blocked it and shoved it aside.
Elias' momentum carried him forward until he stood back-to-back with Marco. Without even looking, he shaped his hand into a claw and swung it toward where he believed Marco’s throat would be, letting the motion carry him into a quick turn.
At the same time, Marco leapt forward, twisting midair to face Elias again—just in time to slip out of the strike’s range. Before Elias could pull his arms back into his guard, Marco snapped a quick turning kick, hips rotating sharply with the motion.
Unable to block or retreat, Elias used the last of his momentum to duck beneath the strike, letting himself fall into a roll. Mid-roll, he twisted like a top and lashed out with a sweeping kick at Marco’s feet. The strike connected—but Marco had already shifted his weight off that leg.
Elias transitioned into a back roll, springing to his feet before Marco could capitalize on the opening. But as he was still rising, Marco was already closing the distance, his body twisting into what was clearly a cross punch aimed straight for Elias' midsection.
Back and forth, the pair traded blows—striking, blocking, and dodging in an intricate dance. As the fight wore on, Elias began to let go of conscious control, and he could feel Marco doing the same. Their movements grew sharper, more fluid. More natural.
Almost simultaneously, they both slipped into a combat trance.
For the first time in his life, Elias was able to go all out against someone on his level. He felt like a bird catching the wind beneath its wings for the first time, the freedom nearly overwhelming as his heart pounded in his chest.
Before he knew it, a smile had spread across his lips, even as blood trickled down his face from a few solid hits Marco had landed. His body ached in a dozen places, his muscles burned with fatigue, but he fought on eagerly. None of the injuries slowed him down—so there was no reason to stop.
Marco was in a similar state. He panted heavily, his movements growing sluggish. Though he wasn’t bleeding, far more bruises marked his body than Elias', each one quietly sapping his strength.
Still, his eyes gleamed with determination, undaunted by the pain. He refused to back down.
After all, he was winning.
Elias had come out on top in most of their exchanges, proving himself the more skilled fighter. But his significantly lower attributes meant his strikes carried far less force than Marco’s.
While Marco could weather his blows without much trouble, Elias couldn’t do the same, and his injuries were beginning to pile up. Worse, fatigue was setting in. He was tiring much faster, and if something didn’t change soon, he’d have no choice but to concede the match.
A fire ignited behind Elias' eyes at the thought of losing, even though he was fairly sure he’d already proven his point. It wasn’t that he couldn’t admit defeat—he just knew he could do better.
Nearly all of his training over the past several years had focused on emulating mana types in combat. Yet so far, he hadn’t shown even a hint of that ability. It felt like he’d been fighting with his hands tied behind his back.
Still deep in his combat trance, Elias opened his spirit the way he did during training. He reached outward like a child stumbling through the dark, straining to feel… anything. But the world felt empty. There was nothing to connect with.
Unlike the deeper levels of the dungeon, the mana here was completely unaspected. Flavorless.
Suddenly, at the edge of his senses, Elias felt a pulse of fire mana before it vanished again. One of the adventurers dueling in the neighboring ring had just used a fire bolt Skill. The projectile had flared toward their opponent and dissipated against their shield.
It had happened in an instant—nothing more than a flicker, as fast as an eyeblink. And yet, in that brief moment, Elias managed to grasp the blip of fire mana like catching a firefly.
Memories of flame filled him, vivid and familiar, like recalling the lyrics of a long-forgotten song. But as the source of the fire mana faded, so did the feeling. It was already slipping through his fingers.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
He had to move—quickly.
With a burst of power, Elias exploded toward Marco, flickering past the man’s defensive strike like a dancing flame. He crashed into him with an elbow to the chest, the force of the blow too explosive to shrug off like the others.
Marco gasped and tried to shove him away—but Elias pressed forward, muscles burning as he struck again and again, his eyes blazing like a pyre.
The echoes of fire mana had already faded from his spirit, leaving only a lingering burn to fuel his weary body. But with Marco just as exhausted, it was enough.
He drove Marco to the ground, straddled him, and began raining down blows like it was a street brawl.
“Stop! That’s enough!” Marco shouted from beneath Elias, conceding the match.
Another punch connected. Elias grimaced—that one wasn’t supposed to go through.
“I said stop!” Marco yelled, louder this time.
In his defense, Elias had been too tired to stop the hit—even if his friend had already surrendered. And as if to prove it, he flopped to the side a moment later, completely spent.
For a while, neither of them said a word. They just lay there, flat on their backs, panting from the fight.
Elias peeked over and caught Marco glaring at him, eyes narrowed. It looked like he wanted nothing more than to punch Elias again—and not in a friendly way.
Then Marco let out a chuckle. It grew into full-blown laughter, and Elias couldn’t help but join in. Soon, both of them were wheezing with laughter on the dirt like a pair of maniacs.
“I told you Eli would win!” Isabela’s smug voice rang out from outside the ring, followed by the sound of her shoes slapping against the dirt.
Elias turned toward the sound and saw her sprinting his way, beaming with pride and vindication.
Rebecca followed behind at a slow walk, her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and awe. The sight brought a smug smile to Elias' lips. It was obvious who each of them had expected to win—and he was glad to have proven Rebecca wrong.
“Good fight, man,” Marco said just before Isabela reached them. His eyes sparkled with adrenaline and joy.
“I really didn’t expect you to fight like that. I mean, seriously… you have no idea how rare it is for someone our age to fight at that level. This was actually the first time someone my age has beaten me in a spar—and trust me, I’ve fought a lot of people,” he added with a chuckle. “I never would’ve guessed a guy from a small town like this could fight the way you do. And that last strike… what the hell was that?”
“Thanks, man! I really enjoyed the fight too. I’ve never had the chance to go up against someone at my level before—it felt amazing,” Elias said. “As for that last strike... that’s something my dad’s been teaching me.”
“Well, whatever it was, it was damn powerful. It was like you turned into a different person—I don’t even know how to describe it,” Marco said with a laugh. “Man, I still can’t believe how well you fight. But seriously, why didn’t you start out like that? I probably wouldn’t have stood a chance.”
“To be honest… I could only use that technique for a moment, since I needed—”
“I think it’d be best if you didn’t go around revealing the secrets of our fighting style, son,” came Peter’s voice from beside them.
Both Marco and Elias startled, only then realizing Peter was standing there, Vivian at his side.
She waved her hand in a lazy arc, and two sparks of shimmering golden light shot toward them. The sparks dove into their chests, and a moment later, they both glowed a soft golden. In the blink of an eye, their injuries were gone.
“Mom! Dad! Were you watching the whole time?” Isabela asked, only just arriving at Elias’ side.
Rebecca stopped a few steps behind her, clearly startled by the sudden appearance of his parents.
“Of course, honey. Why would we miss it? We were already close by,” Vivian said with a smile. Then she turned to Marco and Rebecca and offered a polite introduction. “I’m Vivian, and this is my husband, Peter. We’re Elias’ and Isabela’s parents. It’s very nice to meet you both.”
“Nice to meet you,” Marco said, quickly pulling himself to his feet to greet them.
Rebecca, snapping out of her daze, followed a moment later with a polite, “Nice to meet you.”
“I have to say, whoever trained you did a fine job, Marco,” Peter said with an assessing grin. “As you mentioned earlier, it’s exceptionally rare for someone your age to fight at that level. Just being able to enter a combat trance is more than some people ever manage.”
“Thank you. I was actually trained by my father as well. I’ll be sure to pass your compliments along to him,” Marco replied politely.
“Please do—and feel free to stop by the dojo to train anytime. I know Elias could use a good sparring partner,” Peter said with an easy smile.
“Thanks for the invitation, but I’ll have to check with my dad,” Marco replied, scratching the back of his head. “To be honest, he can be a bit possessive when it comes to my training.”
“Well, our doors are always open,” Peter said with finality, earning a polite nod from Marco.
“That goes for you as well, Rebecca,” Vivian added with a warm smile. “Feel free to stop by anytime. Any friend of Elias’ is always welcome.”
“Thank you,” Rebecca said, offering a shy smile.
Elias blinked. He definitely hadn’t expected to see that expression on the girl’s seemingly unflappable face. Unable to pinpoint the cause of her sudden embarrassment, he tucked the observation away for later.
“Anyway, we’d better get going. Good luck with dungeon delving, you three,” Vivian said with a wink.
“Come on, Isabela. You’re coming with us.”