Denis spat blood onto the ring floor, his chest heaving as he forced himself to stand. The wild fire in his eyes hadn't faded at all; if anything, it had intensified, burning brighter against the dark hunger that clawed at him.
Soren, muscles quaking from the effort but resolute, kept his fists raised, every part of him screaming for a break, yet his mind remained sharp and focused. The taste of blood lingered thick on his tongue, and the sting on his skin served as a harsh reminder of the battle's toll but there was no way he was backing down.
Denis wiped his mouth with the back of a bloodied hand, a cruel smile creeping across his lips. "You're tougher than I expected. Looks like this pretty boy's got some fight in him."
Soren stayed silent. He tightened his stance, feeling the dull warmth of his Core Skill simmering beneath his ribs the fleeting but powerful energy still shielding him, mending his wounds, fueling his will to survive. Ten minutes. That's all he had. Just ten minutes to turn this hunter into the hunted.
Denis lunged again, this time with a fury that felt almost calculated. The knife sliced through the air like a bolt of lightning, but Soren moved with an unexpected grace, despite the unfamiliarity of the situation. He ducked, rolled, and launched a counterattack.
Fists and feet blurred together rapid jabs snapped like whipcracks, while hooks and uppercuts twisted through the air, each strike both precise and brutal. Soren's punches weren't just wild swings; they were carefully aimed strikes designed to dismantle Denis's offense, sapping the strength behind each blow.
Denis grunted, taking the hits but refusing to back down. He reached for Soren's arm, attempting to twist it into a joint lock, but Soren spun away, breaking free with a sharp elbow to Denis's ribs. Pain exploded in Denis's side, but he snarled and pressed on.
Soren felt a sharp knife cut into his forearm a shallow but burning wound. Blood trickled down his wrist, warm and slick. "Got you now!" Denis sneered, driving his shoulder into Soren's chest. Soren staggered back but managed to regain his footing just in time. Denis seized the moment, closing the distance and slicing wildly. Soren blocked what he could, but the pressure was unyielding.
Soren's mind raced. His body was reacting dodging, weaving but he knew he had to change the tempo. He needed to take control before the fleeting seconds of his Core Skill slipped away. Then he spotted it: Denis's foot, slightly off balance after a careless slash. Soren ducked under the next strike and exploded upward with a fierce knee to Denis's jaw.
Denis's head snapped back, a sharp crack echoing through the arena. The crowd gasped.
Soren didn't hesitate. Seizing the moment while Denis was stunned, he grabbed the mercenary's wrist and twisted it behind his back. Denis growled, struggling, but Soren's grip was like iron. With a brutal palm strike to Denis's kidney, Soren forced the mercenary to his knees. Breathing heavily, Soren whispered, "You wanted a hunt? I'm the prey that fights back."
Denis hissed in pain but shot a fierce glare, refusing to back down. In a sudden move, he elbowed backward, catching Soren right in the ribs. The air whooshed out of Soren's lungs, and he lost his grip. Denis pushed himself up, wiping the blood from his lips.
"Not done yet."
Soren's fists tightened. The burning in his muscles was almost unbearable. The effect of his Core Skill was fading; the healing was slowing down. Every second was crucial. Denis moved forward, his knife glinting like a serpent in the dim light. Soren met him head-on. Their bodies crashed together like titans, fists and blades clashing in a chaotic symphony of violence.
Soren ducked under a slash and drove his shoulder into Denis's chest, pushing him back. Then, in a blur, Soren's hands became a flurry of strikes hitting the throat, jaw, ribs, and stomach. Denis staggered, disoriented but still standing. Soren's breath came in ragged gasps. Pain screamed through his wounds, but adrenaline and sheer determination fueled his relentless attack.
Denis dropped the knife, realizing the tide of the fight had turned. Grabbing Soren by the collar, he yanked him close. "Last chance," Denis snarled. "Give up." Soren locked eyes with him, unflinching.
"No."
With a sudden, desperate surge of energy, Soren headbutted Denis, sending him staggering backward. Soren followed up with a fierce uppercut that cracked Denis's jaw. Denis crumpled to the ground, gasping for air. Soren stood over him, battered but unbroken. The crowd erupted some in awe, others in disbelief. Soren's heart raced in his chest.
His Core Skill flickered for the last time.
Pain and exhaustion crashed over him like a tidal wave.
But in that moment, Soren was no longer the prey.
He had become the hunter.
Soren loomed over Denis, his chest heaving as sweat and blood mingled on his skin. The sharp pain in his ribs and the raw cuts on his knuckles screamed for him to stop. Every muscle felt like it was ablaze, and the creeping numbness was a warning: his Core Skill's second heart was fading fast the heart was beating fast and faster each second. Five minutes of borrowed time, and they were almost up.
This body isn't mine, Soren thought, his breath coming in shallow gasps. I don't know all its limits. I don't fully trust it… but I can't afford to hesitate. Not now. His fists tightened. If I fall here, everything I've fought for will be lost. But if I stand, if I push through, maybe… just maybe…
A flicker of fierce determination ignited within him. This is more than just survival. It's about proving that I am still me, no matter what flesh I wear.
Denis lay sprawled on the arena floor, blood trickling from his split lip, his eyes dark with a mix of rage and disbelief. His jaw throbbed where Soren's uppercut had landed a punch that had caught him completely off guard. He had entered this fight brimming with confidence, eager for a quick victory, but now… now everything had shifted.
That pretty boy's got more fight in him than a cornered wolf, Denis thought bitterly. He's not just only dodging anymore. He's on the hunt. That makes me so excited. Feed me more pretty boy.
He flexed his fingers, wincing at the dull ache in his ribs from Soren's blow. The pain heightened his awareness. This isn't over. Not by a long shot.
Denis's mind raced, recalibrating his strategies. He's quick, unpredictable. But he's worn out. So am I, but I'm the predator here. It's time to remind him who's really in control. Soren scanned the arena, taking in the shifting crowd and the electric atmosphere. The excitement roared around him, the tension thick like a heavy fog. It felt like a world of predators and prey but he was done being the prey.
He lowered his fists, muscles quivering with anticipation. I'm not just fighting to survive. I'm fighting to reclaim my power. With deliberate steps, Soren began to circle Denis, their eyes locked in a fierce stare. Wait for him to make a move. Anticipate the mistake. Denis spat, struggling to get back on his feet. "Still hanging in there, huh?" Soren said, his voice low but steady.
Denis smirked, blood staining his teeth. "Not out of the game yet." His eyes darted to Soren's movements small tells in the way his shoulders shifted, the twitch in his stance. Denis pushed himself up, the knife glinting as he flexed his fingers. Time to close the gap. Force him to slip up. With a surge of fury, he lunged, the blade slicing through the thick air.
Soren barely managed to dodge, the blade grazing his arm, a searing pain igniting. Almost… too slow. Soren's breath quickened, adrenaline flooding his veins. He ducked and rolled, pain screaming through his body, but his mind was sharper than ever. This isn't just a battle of strength. It's a test of willpower. He pushed himself up, fists raised once more.
Denis charged at him, wild and relentless. Soren caught his wrist mid-swing, twisting it sharply. Denis hissed, breaking free, and retaliated with a brutal elbow strike. The two collided in a storm of fists and fury, each blow a declaration: I refuse to back down. Minutes felt like hours. Bloodied and battered, neither was willing to give in.
Soren's Core Skill flickered dangerously low. Twenty seconds left, he thought grimly. I have to finish this. Denis's breath was ragged, but his eyes were sharp, a predator sensing his prey's vulnerability. Suddenly, Denis feinted left and then right a blur of motion.
Soren barely managed to block the knife aimed at his throat. The crowd's roar was deafening. Soren's mind was a whirlwind. He understood that this fight was more than just a battle.
I'm not just up against Denis. I'm battling every doubt, every shadow lurking in my body.
Drawing on his last reserves, Soren shifted his weight, planted his feet firmly, and unleashed a storm of precise, brutal punches. Denis stumbled back, his face a mask of disbelief. Soren's final punch landed squarely on Denis's jaw. Denis crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Soren stood there, panting, as the cold reality of the moment washed over him.
The Core Skill began to fade.
His wounds throbbed painfully, scars already starting to form. He was alive. He had triumphed. But the fight was far from finished. Soren's chest heaved, each breath coming in ragged gasps. His muscles screamed with exhaustion, yet his eyes burned with an unyielding fire. The Core Skill's second heart pulsed faintly beneath his ribs, the last moments of borrowed life slipping away.
Denis lay there, barely conscious, struggling to rise once more. The predator was wounded slow, vulnerable but still a threat. Soren knew he had to put an end to this right now. He narrowed his gaze, calculating his next move with deadly accuracy. Just one clean, decisive strike. That's all it would take.
Soren shifted his weight, feeling a slight tremor in his legs. His fists tightened into balls. This is it. With a burst of unexpected speed, he surged forward, summoning every last bit of strength from his battered body. His right fist, slick with sweat and stained with dried blood, flew toward Denis's temple.
Denis's eyes widened he realized what was happening just a moment too late.
The impact was deafening, the sound of the blow echoing through the arena like a cannon blast. Denis crumpled, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. The crowd erupted some cheered, while others gasped in shock. Soren stepped back, his heart racing wildly.
For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still.
The noise of the crowd faded into a distant murmur.
Soren's gaze was fixed on Denis's motionless body, waiting for that familiar rise, the groan, the fight to come back to life.
But it never happened.
Denis's chest lay unnaturally still.
No twitch, no breath.
No sign of life. Soren blinked rapidly, disbelief washing over him.
Wait… what?
He moved closer, crouching beside Denis.
His hand hovered uncertainly over Denis's chest, trembling.
No pulse.
No breath.
A flicker of panic broke through his exhaustion. Suddenly, Soren's face contorted into a comically horrified expression—eyes wide as saucers, mouth hanging open in an exaggerated "O," eyebrows shooting up like they were on springs.
He gasped, his voice cracking:
"I... I think I… killed him?"
He shook his head slowly, still wide-eyed.
"I mean… seriously? How do you accidentally kill someone? I just wanted to knock him out…"
He collapsed back onto his knees, overwhelmed by the sheer absurdity of it all.
A small, nervous chuckle slipped from his lips, awkward and shaky. Soren couldn't wrap his head around any of it.
He glanced up at the sky, then back down at Denis's lifeless form.
"So… now what?"
For a moment, the gravity of the fight gave way to a strange, comedic silence.
Soren's face remained frozen in that wild, "What the hell just happened?" look, as if the universe had decided to play a cruel joke on him.
And in that chaotic moment, something shifted within him.
This was no longer just about survival or winning.
It was about grappling with the strange, unpredictable power he now possessed—and the heavy price it might exact. Soren took a deep breath, pushing down the confusion and guilt.
He stood up slowly, his hands still shaking.
The fight was over.