Hitryel struck the guard of his opponent with a right jab, forcing him back. Knowing Maxvil was finally within his reach, he threw a head kick with his left foot, hitting the side of Maxvil's head.
"Bones are colliding in the Nonagon," a commentator said. "Hystryk finally seems to be getting aggressive in the final 2 minutes of this round."
"As is the trend, Rube," said the other one. "Hystryk usually likes to take the first round slow, revealing his weapons in the second one."
Hitryel slid underneath the massive right cross coming his way, countering with a left jab and right hook. The combo landed clean, stunning Maxvil. Hitryel decide to use this opportunity to punish the bigger man's chin even more by thrusting himself off the canvas with a flying knee to Maxvil's chin.
Maxvil smirked, sliding to his right, clipping Hitryel's chin in midair.
The crowd roared loudly, chanting for the blond brawler.
"Cash was simply playing it up," a commentator said. "He was only baiting in Hystryk, and it seems Wolf took it."
The Flow was streaming so strongly throughout Hitryel's body that he barely felt anything, turning toward his opponent just as his feet reunited with the canvas. 'But he has a good right hand,' he admitted. 'I need to keep it away.'
Hitryel forced back Maxvil with another combo of punches, all of which were rejected by his opponent. Hitryel pulled back his right fist for a cross, prompting Maxvil to protect his head from the front, only to throw the charged right a little over to the right of Maxvil's face, not making any contact, then spinning with the left elbow out, slamming it on the side of his face.
"How many style points are you going to give that spinning elbow, Larris?" one of those commentators said. "After he got up from the canvas, Hystryk's been performing surprisingly well."
"The Wolf looks smooth, but so does Cash," the other one said. "The exchange of punches they're having right now is masterful. Just look at their footwork. They both are so light and fluid."
A body shot broke through Hitryel's defenses, forcing his rightward, only to be clipped by a right hook. Hitryel shook it off for the most part, attacking on the legs after seeing his opponent focus so much up top. 'His right IS good…'
Maxvil's right leg bent inward, damaging his balance. Hitryel threw a high kick to his opponent's temple before the man could recover. Maxvil batted off the kick easily with an outward swing of his right hand, throwing a straight kick with his right foot.
Hitryel's abs sunk into his body as the kick connected, throwing him away. He did not lose balance, but did lose range. Maxvil smirked, knowing that he'd regained the upper hand.
"Only 30 seconds left of the round," a commentator said. "Will we see anything unusual here?"
Hitryel exhaled, closing his eyes, focusing to direct his Flow to his legs. 'You can't show me anything new,' he thought. 'Time to end this.' He closed the distance as soon as he opened his eyes.
Maxvil reflexively threw a big right as his eyes widened after finding Hitryel so close to him all of a sudden. Hitryel slid underneath it, channeling his Flow to his fists.
Hitryel right wrist steamed out a cloud of bluish smoke, trailing the fist he rammed it into his opponent's gut, making him drop his guard.
"A vicious right by Wolf!" a commentator said as the chants disappeared. "Is this it?"
Maxvil's eyes fattened, mouth opening wide, gasping for air—
The smoke from Hitryel's Bracer thickened as he followed with a right uppercut, launching Maxvil off the canvas.
The crowd collectively held their breath as the bigger man was lifted off his feet with a single punch from Hitryel, finally slamming down to the canvas, flat on his back with arms spread wide.
"A solid knockdown by Wolf!" a commentator shouted. "Maxvil is on his back! Is the heavyweight finished?"
"Did Hystryk always have that kind of knockout power?" the other one asked. "Why didn't we see it in any of his prior matches? He sent Cash flying! FLYING!"
Hitryel sighed, looking down on his opponent. 'You're no different from the others,' he thought, disappointed yet again. 'You also didn't come prepared to die.'
The referee rushed to the blond man as the crowd started booing loudly—
The bell rang more than ten times in quick succession, confusing the referee into looking around. Not a moment later, two large men dressed in all black barged inside the cage, rushing at Hitryel from the back.
"Are we seeing this right?" a commentator said. "Two men just popped inside of the Nonagon. What is even going on here?"
Hitryel glanced over his shoulder in confusion as the canvas quaked by the trampling of these large men. "What in the smoke—?" Both of them forced Hitryel's arms behind his back, shackling them together.
The crowd started gasping among each other in this confused panic.
"Oy!" Hitryel said in loud annoyance. "What do you think you're doing?" He tried to pull apart his shackled hands, but the two men restrained his movements, putting pressure on his head, trying to force him down to the canvas.
"Who are these people?" the other commentator asked. "What's the security doing—?"
"They ARE the security, Larris," Filep said, standing in front of his luxurious seat, speaking into a microphone of his own from the top level of the arena. "They are securing us from the criminal we have in front of us."
"Filep…" Hitryel gritted his teeth. "You smoking bastard!"
"Hold on," the commentator said. "Criminal? Wolf?"
"That's right," Filep said, pointing at the Nonagon. "Hitryel Hystryk is a criminal. And his crime: identity forging! We just found out that for the past 3 years, this criminal has been rolling with a fake citizen's card, fooling everyone with the made up information on it, violating the laws of identity. He has damaged our company's name. This demon needs to be punished!"
The whispers among the crowd grew louder, the arena filling up with confused voices, before all of them started staring down at Hitryel with disgust.
Hitryel grunted, struggling against the grip on his tied arms to force himself closer to the direction of Filep. "So it was really true, huh! You planned this from the very start! You smoking bastard!"
For a moment, there appeared a grin over Filep's face as he looked down at Hitryel. But then he screamed. "Take him away!" He pointed with a finger. "The demon is threatening to assault me! And he has accomplices too! The security guards who were beaten to near death yesterday were the result of them trying to protect us from the harm that this criminal and his accomplices were trying to bring on all of us! We must honor their bravery by punishing Hitryel and his accomplices.
"The first of which is…" He turned, moving his pointed finger at someone in the second level of the arena. "TRYST BRACKEN! The man who brought Hitryel to ABC Imperos in the first place!"
"Not Tryst, you bastard…!" Hitryel's eyes widened as the black-haired boy's words rang in his head. 'These guys were talking about telling your truth to the whole world. They also said that it would put the Tryst guy and you behind bars. I don't want that to happen. Those kids need the heavy guy—'
Then his own response to this also rang in his head. 'You want me to trust you?' he had said with a scoff. 'I don't even know who you are. But I do know Filep. He's a greedy old bastard who'd never do anything like that. He knows I make him money. He can't afford to tell the truth. Isn't that right, Filep?'
Hitryel gritted his teeth as he glared at the smiling president. "Leave Tryst out of this, you bastard!" he growled as loud as he could.
The crowd started panicking, people on the second level started rushing to the exits, away from Tryst. The panic soon spread throughout the crowd, people gushing out the exits with haste. These might've been the same people who called the man People's Champion. Where was their faith now? How could they believe in the bespectacled bastard's words so easily?
From the canvas of the cage, Maxvil rose to his feet, head lowered, expression dark.
"We have restrained the criminal, Maxvil," Filep said into his microphone, his voice booming throughout the arena. "Just get out of the Nonagon slowly—"
"No!" Maxvil lifted his head, eyes alight with fury, meeting Hitryel's gaze. "He needs to go! How dare a kid like you humiliate me in front of everyone! You don't deserve to live anymore!" He raised his right arm to the side.
Hitryel's jaw dropped with shock as the top of Maxvil's right forearm opened up, revealing a hollow compartment inside it, a folded blade rising from within. "You aren't…human?"
Maxvil turned his raised arm to point at Hitryel. "Compared to a demon like you, I'm human enough." The blade popped out of his arm, ready to shoot toward Hitryel. "Die!"
"What're you doing, Maxvil!" Filep yelled. "We didn't pl—" He cleared his throat. "Start cutting the broadcast, you idiots! What're you waiting for? And call some skyguards to take away that criminal!"
"No one's gonna see your execution, boy," Maxvil said with a smirk, pointing the razor sharp blade. "Isn't it sad no one's gonna remember you? All the brawling you did for money and fame, I'll take all of it away in a blink—!"
"I don't fight for meaningless smoke like money and fame," Hitryel grunted. "I just want to defeat the best fighter of every land. And I already did that with this one!"
Hitryel maximized his Flow to his shackled hands, pulling them apart. It was of no use. The shackles only seemed to get tighter as he pushed his Flow toward his arms.
"You didn't do bullspit!" Maxvil shouted with anger. "Why don't you try to fight me now, huh? Why're you just standing there? Come at me! Try to beat me! You can't even touch me now, boy—!"
Hitryel smirked his usual way. "Let me get these shackles off," he said coolly. "Then I'll gift you the rematch you're begging me for."
"DIE!" Maxvil shouted with gritted teeth, thrusting his hand toward Hitryel.
Hitryel's set his jaw, eyes widening on their own as the blade jetted straight to his face. 'Smoke it!' he thought in panic. 'This wasn't how it's meant to be…!' He loosened his body, ending his struggle. 'I guess…I was just not strong enough—'
His view darkened.
###
It was a bright morning in Arestos when another two challengers from a foreign school barged inside of Purewater Dojo without any warning or invite.
One of these teenagers was a brown-haired boy with light skin. The other was a brown-skinned boy with a shaven head.
Emerton walked calmly to greet these two boys, each hand inside the cuff of the other hand's sleeve. "What might've brought the two of you here, Jasue and Rivbe?"
The two boys bowed slightly, as if caught off guard.
"I didn't know our name reached this far," said the brown-haired one—Jasue. "But I guess being from a bigger dojo always helps."
The one beside him—Rivbe—snorted after looking around the building. "This is smaller than just the bathhouse of our dojo."
Emerton smiled, placing a hand on his bald head. "That's really wonderful," he said cheerfully. "But why are you two forgetting the Higher Teachings of your Master? Master Honei did teach you about gratitude and humbleness, right?"
The boys laughed among each other.
"We don't have time to discuss matters with the likes of a priest such as you," Jasue said. "We're here to challenge the notorious 'Demon of Arestos.' We want to find out if he lives up to his reputation or not."
Emerton snorted softly. "You two travelled all the way here just for a fight? With youth comes time to waste it, it seems."
The two teenagers appeared unimpressed. "Just give us our fight, old man," Rivbe said. "We're not here to cause trouble."
Emerton glanced to his side as he saw his daughter approaching.
"Which arts are we going to use?" Kelty asked, folding her arms, standing tall in front of the boys. "Or are we going to go with mixed?"
The boys shared confused gazes. "We're here to fight the 'Demon'," Rivbe said, "not some young girl."
"I'm the best fighter you'll find in all of Arestos," Kelty said flatly, honestly. "So if you really want to improve yourselves, I'll accept your challenge any day."
The boys looked at each other, bursting into laughter right after.
"You want us to believe that?" Jasue said, laughing. "You want us to believe some little girl is the best fighter in one of the biggest villages of this skybranch?"
"She's just a foolish kid," Rivbe laughed, leaning sideways with an arm on Jasue's shoulder. "Let her believe what she wants to—"
A small dark-skinned boy with a shaven head pushed the two teenagers apart, walking inside the dojo from in between them.
Emerton smiled, seeing the 11-year-old boy return to the dojo after he'd run off the previous day due to the result of his match with Kelty.
"Apologize, you little brat?" Jasue said loudly, putting a hand on the small boy's shoulder. "Didn't your Master teach you anything—?"
"Take your hand off me," said the small boy, giving a cold glance over his shoulder.
Jasue and Rivbe laughed. "Trying to threaten us, eh?" Jasue said. "What will you do if I don't? Cry to your mothe—"
The boy tightly gripped the arm on his shoulder, yanking it forward just the next moment. Jasue cried loudly as his feet departed from the floor, grunting loudly as his back slammed against the wood beneath.
Rivbe tucked his chin, throwing a right hook at the small boy. "Who do you think you are, you little piece of—"
The small boy effortlessly ducked underneath the punch of the taller boy, hitting his opponent in the stomach with his right fist.
Rivbe's mouth opened wide as the small boy punched all the air out of it, only for his jaws to slam close as the small boy jumped with an uppercut.
Both the teenagers lay on the ground, slithering in pain, Jasue curling outward, Rivbe curling inward. They both regrouped, helping each other off the wooden floor.
The small boy turned to Emerton, bowing right after. "Good morning, Master Emerton!" he said, a little too loudly. "I'm sorry I ran off yesterday! I won't do it ever again!"
"M-Master?" the teenagers said in shock. "EMERTON?"
Emerton bowed in return. "Something must've brought you back, right?"
The small boy walked past Emerton, pointing at his daughter. "Today, I'll finally defeat you, Kelty!"
Kelty shook her head, unimpressed. "You can only try."
"T-Today?" the teenagers said in shock. They both got onto their shaky feet, bowing deeply to Emerton with respect.
"We deeply apologize for not recognizing you earlier, Master Emerton!" Jasue said with his head lowered, sweating. "I'd beg you to not relay the knowledge of this mistake onto Master Honei!"
"She'll kick us out of her dojo, Master," Rivbe added, still bowed down. "We sincerely beg of you!"
Emerton brought up the lowered heads of the teenagers, looking at them with a cheerful smile. "As long as you focus on your Higher Teachings," he replied, "I promise I won't. However, it is concerning to me that young people like you, who've studied under a great mentor like Master Honei, can act this way. No matter which chapter of life you're in, you must never forget the pages that lead up to it."
Jasue gulped, a faint smile forming on his face. He bowed again. "We'll forever be grateful to you, Master!"
Emerton looked up thoughtfully with a smile. "Now, are you saying that out of respect for me or out of fear for your Master? Or does it even matter? Some things, I may never discover."
Rivbe pointed at the small boy past Emerton, who was putting on some dark gray gloves. "Who's that, Master?" he asked curiously.
Emerton let out a chuckle, continuing to laugh afterward. "The Demon of Arestos: Hitryel Hystryk!"
The teenagers looked at each other in shock.
"WHAT?" Jasue blurted.
"That little kid…" Rivbe asked, gulping, "is the 'Demon'?"
Emerton walked away to the ring around which his students had started gathering. Hitryel and Kelty faced each other inside the ring in a mixed arts matchup. Emerton glanced over his shoulder to the teenagers. "That's for you to decide."