That punch was the last straw. As the tunnels started to cave in and collapse, IQ120 quickly reacted by jumping across the collapsing ground to reach the walls. Using his claws, he firmly attached himself to the wall. He had seriously underestimated how many tunnels Miret had created within those seven hours.
Seeing the destruction he caused, the entire arena began to collapse. "Would Miret survive this?" he wondered as he glanced at the observers. "How many tunnels did he build?" he pondered. He was glad he decided to collapse the whole thing; if he had been hardheaded and tried to beat Miret at his own game, he might have lost."
…
"Damn you, IQ120," Miret thought as he hurriedly tried to escape his collapsing tunnels. IQ120 had easily destroyed the plan he had spent seven hours constructing. The ground caved in too quickly, and his belief that it would hold out made him slow to react before he decided to intervene and disrupt IQ120's plan.
But by that time, it was too late. IQ120 was using his full strength and speed behind each of his attacks on the already weakened soil. Creating so many complex tunnels to confuse and easily escape had seriously backfired for Miret. Thankfully, before the tunnels collapsed, he was already on his way up. Had he been at the very bottom, his fate could very well have been sealed. The thought made him shudder, but his situation wasn't any better either.
Running and skillfully dodging the falling ceilings, Miret's senses were on high alert. The air tasted of dust and desperation, each breath a struggle against the weight of imminent disaster. His elongated limbs propelled him forward, the ground trembling beneath his feet. The echoing groans of the ceiling reverberated through his bones, a haunting symphony of impending doom.
As he glanced upward, the dim light flickering, he caught sight of the massive boulder hurtling down—a behemoth with a malevolent purpose. Instinctively, he leaped sideways, the rough tunnel wall scraping against his skin. The sudden rush of cool air swept past him as the boulder missed by a hair's breadth, leaving a trail of dust and debris in its wake.
The impact sent shockwaves through the tunnel, dislodging smaller rocks that pelted him like hail. Each strike stung. His mind raced, calculating options. The shortest route to the surface was blocked—the very path he'd intended for his escape. Miret's fists clenched, and he considered punching through the debris, but reason prevailed. The tunnels would collapse faster than he could clear a passage.
Ahead, a tight crevice beckoned—a gap barely wide enough for his broad shoulders. He squeezed through, the rock scraping against his spine. The passage twisted, and he wriggled, ignoring the pain. The ceiling sagged ominously, threatening to crush him. Miret's heart pounded, and he pushed forward, muscles straining. Finally, he burst Into a larger chamber, the air fresher, but still thick with tension.
Safety remained elusive. The chamber's exit was blocked by a massive pile of rubble. Miret's eyes darted around, assessing his options. To the left, a fissure led deeper into the earth, but it was too narrow for him. To the right, a series of interconnected tunnels snaked away, but they were choked with debris. He was trapped in a maze of his own making.
Desperation fueled his strength. He hurled himself at the rubble, fists pounding. Rocks crumbled, but more replaced them. He needed a plan, an ingenious solution, but there was none—only his fists were available. His adrenaline reached a new high; he was already close to the surface. He just needed to push a bit, a bit more and then even more, and so he did. Rocks split apart in the face of his strength, stone turned to dust, and he kept striking and striking. His claws dissected the rocks like butter, and amazingly, he broke out of the soil just before everything came crashing down.
"Haaa, haaa, haaa," he breathed heavily, the taste of victory and survival mingling with the dust. His body trembled, but he was free—for now.