Joshua moved first, darting toward Malvin with explosive speed. Malvin stood his ground, baton at the ready, his body tense like a coiled spring. As Joshua closed the gap, Malvin swung his baton in a calculated arc, aiming to intercept him.
But the strike hit nothing but air. Joshua had rolled beneath the swing with fluid precision, twisting his body mid-roll to plant a palm on the ground. Using the momentum, he launched himself into a spinning kick aimed at Malvin's torso. Malvin barely raised his arm in time to block, the force of the impact reverberating through his bones.
*What power... even from a roll like that, its too much!* Malvin thought, the sheer strength behind the kick forcing him to stagger slightly.
Before Malvin could regain his footing, Joshua was already upright, a predatory grin plastered across his face. He unleashed a relentless barrage of punches, each one sharp and deliberate. Malvin deflected a few strikes, but most landed solidly against his ribs, chest, and stomach.
*How is someone his physic this strong?* Malvin's mind raced as he felt the bruises forming.
Seizing an opening, Malvin parried one of Joshua's punches, twisting his baton into a downward strike aimed at Joshua's shoulder. But Joshua sidestepped the attack effortlessly, moving like water around the blow. He leapt back with unnerving ease, his movements almost taunting in their fluidity.
Malvin exhaled sharply, his breath labored. *His speed, his reactions… he's too fast to track consistently.*
Joshua chuckled, his voice laced with amusement. It was the kind of laugh one would expect from a villain reveling in the chaos. "What's the matter, Officer? Don't tell me you're already out of steam," he mocked, his grin widening as his gaze locked onto Malvin.
Before Malvin could respond, Joshua surged forward again, his fist striking Malvin squarely in the stomach. The blow felt like a hammer, and Malvin grunted as he staggered back, his vision momentarily swimming.
"Don't feel bad," Joshua said with a gleeful edge, his voice carrying a dangerous energy. "You're up against me, after all!"
With that, Joshua unleashed another flurry of blows, each strike precise and devastating. Malvin could do little more than block sporadically, the speed of Joshua's attacks leaving no room to dodge. Each punch and kick was a calculated move, designed to push Malvin closer to the edge.
*Too fast… too precise,* Malvin thought, gritting his teeth as he absorbed the punishment, every muscle in his body screaming in protest.
Philip watched from the sidelines, his expression sour but conflicted. Seeing Malvin getting pummeled should have been satisfying, but the fact that it was Ambrose delivering the beatdown soured the victory in his mind. *That freak,* he thought, his sharp eyes fixed on Joshua. *He's too damn good—better than me, better than the Guard, better than anyone should be.*
"Ach, he's got it sewn up already, hasn't he, boss?" Nunin grumbled beside him, stroking his beard nervously. His gruff voice carried a mix of awe and unease. "Don't see how th' officer's gonna last much longer."
Philip glanced down at him, his fangs flashing briefly as he growled, "Don't say someone's won before the fight's over." His green eyes shifted back to the brawl, where Joshua launched into a spinning back kick.
Malvin crossed both arms to block the strike, the impact reverberating through his frame as his boots skidded backward across the floor. His arms sagged at his sides, trembling under the strain, and his shoulders rose and fell with deep, labored breaths. Wisps of white mist curled from his lips as his exhaustion became evident. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth and down his temple, and his stance wavered, unsteady.
Joshua straightened, shaking his head with an air of disappointment. "Really? Done already?" His voice carried a sharp edge, and his face twisted into an irritated sneer. "Is that all an Ironguard can do? How pathetic."
He placed his hands on his hips, leaning slightly forward as his voice dropped into a derisive growl. "And here I thought you'd be fun."
Malvin, still swaying slightly, said nothing. He huffed one last time before straightening his back. His battered figure seemed to gather weight and purpose as he slowly lifted his baton, the motion deliberate.
Joshua raised an eyebrow, his sneer softening into an amused grin. "Oh, what's this? Did I speak too soon?" His excitement returned in an instant as Malvin locked eyes with him, his silence unnerving.
"Looks like I did. My apologies," Joshua said mockingly, flexing his fingers. Without hesitation, he surged forward again, his speed and confidence undiminished as he prepared to deliver the final blow. But just as he closed the distance, Malvin's baton dipped low—almost as if he was off balance—and Joshua instinctively moved to counter.
In that moment, Malvin's left hand shot up in a sudden, calculated motion. He stepped forward into Joshua's strike, his hand twisting midair to latch onto Joshua's wrist, his grip like iron. The movement was so precise, so unexpected, that Joshua's eyes widened in shock.
"W-what the—" Joshua began, but before he could react, Malvin twisted his arm, using Joshua's own momentum to unbalance him.
On the sidelines, Nunin's jaw dropped.
Philip smirked, his fangs flashing. "Told you not to say someone's won before it's over," he muttered, though his tone hinted at something closer to amusement than scolding.
"Got you, bastard," Malvin growled, his voice like gravel. He swung his baton in a powerful arc, activating its shock function at the last second. The electrified strike connected with Joshua's jaw, the crackle of energy filling the air as the blow sent him flying backward. Joshua's body tumbled before landing flat on his back, motionless.
Malvin stood over him, his baton sparking faintly as he exhaled through gritted teeth. He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and stared down at Joshua's prone form.
"Don't think you've won before the fight's over," he said coldly, his voice cutting through the silence like steel.