The air was filled with noise, the crowd’s roar didn’t just echo—it vibrated
through
the ground, into the mat, up Ryan’s legs, into his chest.
Every
sound, every breath, every whisper tangled together into
a
storm that pressed down on him.
The
pressure
of stepping up first on the stage was eating him from the insides, he had to win the match—for Arthur and for the team’s
morale
.
Ryan stood in the middle of the ring—small, tense, fists were clenched, eyes fixed on Jin.
Jin stood in front of him,
completely
relaxed, his posture was calm and deadly, like a tiger who was about to pounce on its prey. His lips curled into a
wicked
grin which Ryan remembered from the corridor.
The announcer’s voice boomed
through
the arena. "Match Start!"
And with that—Jin moved. He didn’t
run
, he launched himself towards Ryan.
His body shot forward like a coiled spring, his steps almost silent despite the speed. His eyes locked onto Ryan’s shoulders as he
tracked
every single
movement
of his.
His hand shot out, aiming straight for Ryan’s collar — the start of a judo throw which he would
have
mastered ages ago.
Ryan’s eyes twitched as he saw Jin coming towards him, he didn’t even think—his instincts screamed at him to
move!
He sidestepped, not cleanly— Jin’s fingertips brushed against his
shirt’s
collar, almost catching him — but it wasn’t enough. Ryan stumbled backwards, out of his reach, before his mind caught up, his right arm snapped forward in a
hook.
CRACK!
His fist connected with Jin’s temple with a loud
THUD
, the
impact
jolted up Ryan’s arm, numbing his wrist, but the shock wasn’t his alone this time around — Jin actually stumbled backwards.
The loud gasps came from the crowd.
A brief flicker of surprise
danced
across Jin’s eyes before he grinned. He touched his temple where Ryan hit him as he said with a deep voice. "Heh... stronger than before, huh, chubby shit?"
Ryan’s lip twitched upward, he couldn’t stop the smirk. "Guess your skull’s softer than I actually thought." Ryan said, voice had that itch of mockery in it.
That single line, it was a straight jab to Jin’s pride.
The smirk on Jin’s face vanished quickly, in an instant he was in front of Ryan again.
Ryan barely saw him move — one second Jin was ten feet away then the next his shadow swallowed Ryan whole.
Ryan ducked low, slicing beneath Jin’s arm, his breath cutting short. He came up behind him, pivoting on sheer instinct as he launched a
jab
straight to the ribs and followed by came a
cross.
THUD! THUD!
Those were perfect hits, even the form was perfect.
But Jin didn’t move nor he got any scratch from them.
The man was built like
concrete
— he took both punches and barely twitched, he just looked down at Ryan with a wicked grin on his face, eyes cold and sharp.
Ryan stepped back right away, panting heavily, his heart pounding in his chest so hard that he could hear it beat. His lungs were on fire, and his arms were about to give up any second—they ached with each and every swing he performed.
Sweat
traveled
from his temple to his eyes, he slowly blinked it away, vision blurring for a second.
[DING!]
[Warning: Stamina levels dropping rapidly.]
[Host, you cannot lose this match. Quest failure will result in stat degradation.]
Ryan’s breathing hitched as he thought.
’I can’t lose... not here at least.’
He clenched his jaw as he looked Jin straight into his eyes. "Not... again."
He stepped forward—forcing his shaking legs to move on will and then he threw another punch, then another. His movements started to grow sloppy, but he didn’t care about that, didn’t care about the form. Only thing he cared about was Jin, he just had to connect his fists to his body.
"Come on!" he shouted, slamming his fists into Jin’s guard, one after another, expecting
it to
break.
But Jin didn’t even block—he didn’t even falter.
He
just winced.
Then, with a quiet long exhale,
Jin’s
hand shot out—it was fast as it grabbed Ryan’s
wrist
mid-swing.
The momentum of it died instantly.
Ryan’s body froze, his body jerked forward, caught like a puppet
on
a string—lost control of himself.
Jin’s grip was monstrous—fingers digging into Ryan’s flesh, veins popping on his arm. Ryan tried to
pull
away from his grip but failed, Jin didn’t budge an inch.
A slow, chilling smirk formed on Jin’s face. "You’re done for, Ryan
West.
Here I thought that you had
improved
, but you’re still the same as you were back then when you ran away from me, pathetic."
Then, the floor shifted.
Jin stepped in closer to Ryan as his other hand slipped under Ryan’s arm, his hip twisting a bit sharply as he lifted Ryan up in
the
air.
Ryan’s feet slightly lifted off the mat.
That feeling—
He knew it instantly, it was a move of judo, a throw.
"O Guruma." Jin muttered under his breath.
[Host, he’s performing a suplex kind of technique on you, he’ll throw you 360-degrees.]
Ryan’s mind whispered in disbelief. The next second, he was weightless.
The mat blurred away beneath him, the lights above the ring fractured into streaks of gold and white beams.
He could feel Jin’s strength, the precision of it, every muscle was perfectly aligned to throw him down with the maximum impact, for him to crumble in just one move.
Ryan’s stomach lurched as the world slowly spun upside down, the crowd just a swirl of
color
and noise.
His breath caught in his throat. "Huh—?"
Every heartbeat stretched out like molasses, his limbs flailed
helplessly
in the air.
He saw Arthur, arms crossed in the Boxing Club dugout, gaze razor-sharp, looking at him.
He saw Maya—still clutching her injured hand, her lips parted in shock.
And for that split second, Ryan said to himself.
’Not again, I’m not going to lose like this again.’