The moment Julius activated Street Fighting Style, a sharp buzz rippled through his muscles. His stance shifted instinctively—feet shoulder-width apart, weight balanced on the balls of his feet, hands raised loosely near his face. His heart was racing, but his eyes remained focused. Calm. Ready.
The first tribal warrior, a spear wielder, was already within striking range. He lunged with a snarl, thrusting the crude stone-tipped weapon straight for Julius's abdomen.
But Julius sidestepped with practiced agility, grabbing the wooden shaft mid-air. Using the momentum against his opponent, he yanked the spear forward, driving his knee into the tribal's gut. The impact sent the man sprawling, breath knocked from his lungs.
Before Julius could even exhale, another two charged in—one with a bow still slung over his shoulder, the other jabbing with a spear like a madman.
Julius ducked low, pivoting under the spear's arc, then came up with a brutal elbow to the archer's throat, staggering him. He turned just in time to block the second spear with a forearm, gritting his teeth as the rough stone grazed his skin.
With a twist, Julius snapped the spearshaft in half with a sharp kick, catching the attacker off guard. Then he closed the distance, grabbing the man by the collarbone and delivered a ruthless headbutt to his nose, sending a spray of blood into the air.
But there was no time to breathe.
Arrows whistled through the air. Julius ducked behind a nearby tree trunk just as one thudded into the bark, centimeters from his head. He counted five archers spread out across the forest edge, coordinated and disciplined.
"Smart," he muttered. "They're adapting."
Sure enough, the remaining spear users were no longer charging blindly. They were circling, keeping distance while the archers laid down suppressing fire. Julius had no ranged weapons, no armor, no inventory access.
But he had instinct. He had the streets.
He waited until an arrow flew just past his left, then exploded from cover, charging low and fast toward the closest archer. The archer panicked, fumbling with another arrow, but Julius was already there—shoulder-checking him to the ground, then delivering two swift punches to the jaw and temple. The man went limp.
The other four archers retaliated immediately, loosing arrows in near-perfect unison. Julius used the fallen archer's body as a shield, diving behind it as the arrows thudded into his comrade's corpse.
That moment of confusion was enough. He sprang from cover again, rolling forward and landing a clean spinning backfist into another archer's cheekbone. The man collapsed in a heap.
Two down.
But Julius was bleeding—a shallow gash on his side where an arrow had nicked him earlier.
"Could be worse," he breathed, clenching his jaw.
The spearmen, seeing their chance, attacked together.
The three remaining closed in from different angles. One jabbed high, another low, the third circling to flank. Julius leapt forward, getting inside the range of the closest one's spear, where it was hardest to use. He grabbed his wrist, twisted, and drove a palm strike to the nose, snapping the cartilage with a wet crunch.
The other two came simultaneously.
Julius ducked a sweep, then launched a low leg kick, knocking one man off balance. As the last spearman lunged in desperation, Julius fell back onto his hands, planted a foot on the ground, and kicked upward like a spring, sending the man flying backward.
Julius rolled to his feet—but one of the archers had taken that moment to close in. The man dropped his bow and tackled him from the side, knocking Julius to the ground. They grappled in the dirt, trading fists and elbows.
Julius took a brutal punch to the temple, his vision flashing white for a second—but he responded with a savage bite to the shoulder, then kneed the archer in the ribs, rolled on top of him, and hammered a straight punch to the jaw that put him out cold.
Four enemies remained—two archers, two spearmen. One archer was taking shots from a distance, while the other was frantically retreating, clearly shaken.
Julius made his move.
He grabbed a fallen spear, snapped it over his knee, and hurled the broken haft like a javelin. It wasn't graceful—but it was enough to strike the retreating archer in the leg, causing him to stumble and fall.
The last two spearmen attacked in tandem. Julius met them head-on.
He weaved under a thrust, closed the gap, and delivered a gut punch so hard it lifted the enemy off his feet. The last one tried to swing his spear horizontally—Julius caught it mid-swing, pulled him forward, and kneed him straight in the chin, knocking him out cold.
Only one archer remained.
Breathing heavily, blood dripping from a cut on his lip and a graze on his shoulder, Julius turned.
The archer stared at him—bow shaking in hand.
Julius pointed at him.
"Leave."
There was a long pause. The archer looked around—saw all his allies unconscious or groaning in the dirt—and slowly dropped his weapon. He turned, limped away, and disappeared into the trees.
Julius stood in the quiet, broken forest clearing, the adrenaline slowly fading from his veins.
He wiped the sweat and blood from his brow, breathing deeply.
Not a vital wound. Not bad.
A grin crept across his face.
"If that's the first challenge… this world's gonna be fun."
Julius was thrilled—this world was unlike anything he'd ever experienced before.
Back in the control room, Sapphire was practically having a panic attack. Her heart nearly stopped the moment she saw those ten tribal warriors gang up on Julius.
"That was terrifying..." she muttered, still catching her breath, eyes wide with shock.
But Sebastian? Oh, he was loving every second of it.
"Whoa! That was insane! I wanna try this too... Julius really got lucky out there," he grinned, leaning forward, eyes sparkling with excitement.
Then there was the President—he wasn't just entertained; he was deeply impressed.
The game's fighting mechanics... the behavior of the NPCs... it was all far beyond what anyone had expected.
Unlike normal games, the NPCs here weren't just pre-programmed with limited lines or robotic patterns. No, these NPCs were powered by real AI. They had the freedom to speak, to act, to think. Bosses, enemies—every character could adapt to a player's fighting style. They learned, they evolved.
And Julius knew that. So did everyone else watching.
This was the first time a game had ever attempted something so bold. And the gamers around the world who were watching the live feed? They were blown away.
They'd never seen anything like it—combat that felt real, personal, unpredictable. And watching Julius fight, watching him survive against enemies that learned with every move… it was like watching history being made.
Just then, a new message popped up on Julius's screen. He opened his inbox.
"Dear Julius Marcellus,
I am from the control room again.
It's time for you to save your progress and exit the game, as the final testing is now complete.
Thank you."