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"Turn your wounds into wisdom."
- Oprah Winfrey
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Inside the vast hall of Hostel, the air was thick with tension as Eli Jang faced off against Olly Wang. The dim lighting cast long shadows on the walls, the remnants of the earlier fight still scattered around.
Eli stood calmly, his batons twirling lightly in his hands, his expression unreadable. Across from him, Olly Wang was a stark contrast, a wild grin plastered on his face, his body twitching with barely contained energy.
"You know, Eli," Olly began, pacing back and forth with erratic steps, "I've always admired you. You were the king of Hostel, the one everyone looked up to. I wanted to be just like you."
Eli didn't respond, his gaze cold and steady. He had heard this before from Olly, the twisted admiration that bordered on obsession. But that didn't matter now. All that mattered was the fight at hand.
Olly suddenly stopped pacing, his grin widening. "But that's the thing, Eli. You never let me in, did you? You never saw me as your equal. You never believed in me."
Eli's eyes flickered with annoyance. "You're not me, Olly. You never were."
Olly's grin faltered for a split second before his eyes darkened with a wild intensity. "We'll see about that."
Without warning, Olly charged at Eli, his movements fast but unrefined, driven purely by brute strength and recklessness. His fist swung toward Eli's face with all the force he could muster, but Eli was faster. He sidestepped effortlessly, letting Olly's punch sail past him.
Before Olly could react, Eli brought his baton down hard on Olly's arm, the crack of impact echoing through the hall. Olly winced but didn't stop. He swung again, his other fist coming at Eli's side. Eli blocked it with his baton, the force of the blow reverberating through his arm.
Olly was relentless. He kept coming, throwing wild punches and kicks, each one more desperate than the last. But Eli was calm, collected. He moved with precision, his batons flashing as they struck Olly's body with sharp, calculated hits. A jab to the ribs, a strike to the knee, a swing to the shoulder, each hit landed perfectly, but Olly didn't stop.
"Is that all you've got?" Olly sneered, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. "Come on, Eli! Fight me like you mean it!"
Eli's grip tightened on his batons. He wasn't going all out, not yet. He could see how Olly fought, reckless, uncoordinated, and driven by pure emotion. It would be easy to take him down, but Eli didn't want to kill him. Not yet.
Olly swung again, a wild haymaker aimed at Eli's head. Eli ducked under it, countering with a swift kick to Olly's midsection that sent him stumbling back. But Olly recovered quickly, his grin never fading.
"You think you're better than me, don't you?" Olly taunted, wiping the blood from his lip. "You think just because you've got your fancy batons and your calm demeanor that you're above me. But you're not."
Eli didn't respond. He didn't need to. Instead, he rushed forward, closing the distance between them in an instant. His batons moved like lightning, one striking Olly's side while the other crashed down on his shoulder. The blows were precise, powerful, but Olly barely reacted.
"Is that all you've got?" Olly cackled, his eyes wild. "I don't feel pain, Eli! You can hit me all you want, but it won't matter!"
Eli's brow furrowed slightly as he analyzed Olly's movements. He was right, Olly wasn't reacting to the pain. His body was taking the hits, but his mind wasn't registering them. It was dangerous, not just for Eli, but for Olly as well. If he kept fighting like this, he could seriously hurt himself, and Eli knew it.
Olly lunged again, his fist aimed at Eli's chest. Eli dodged, stepping to the side and bringing his baton down on Olly's knee. The impact should have crippled him, but Olly barely slowed down. He spun around, swinging wildly at Eli's head.
Eli blocked the punch with his baton, Eli knew that if he wanted to end this quickly, he needed to be more strategic.
"You're holding back," Olly growled, his grin fading as his eyes narrowed. "I can feel it. You think I'm not worth your full strength?"
Eli stayed silent, his expression unreadable.
Olly's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white. "I'm going to show you, Eli. I'm going to show you that I'm just as strong as you are!"
With a roar, Olly rushed at Eli again, his fists swinging wildly. But this time, Eli didn't dodge. He stood his ground, raising his batons to block the incoming strikes. Olly's fists crashed into the batons with a force that reverberated through Eli's arms, but he didn't move.
Eli's eyes hardened as he twisted his batons, locking Olly's fists in place. With a sharp movement, he slammed his knee into Olly's stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Olly gasped, doubling over, but Eli wasn't done. He brought his baton down hard on the back of Olly's neck, sending him sprawling to the ground.
For a moment, Olly lay there, gasping for air, his body trembling. But then, slowly, he began to laugh.
"You… you're still holding back," Olly wheezed, his laughter growing louder as he pushed himself to his feet. "Why, Eli? Why aren't you giving me everything you've got?"
Eli's grip on his batons tightened. He could end this now if he wanted to. One more strike, one more hit, and Olly would be out cold. But something stopped him. Despite everything Olly had done, despite how dangerous he was, Eli couldn't bring himself to deliver the final blow.
"You want to be like me, Olly?" Eli asked, his voice low and dangerous. "Then understand this: strength isn't about how hard you can hit. It's about control. It's about knowing when to stop."
Olly's grin twisted into a snarl as he charged at Eli again, his fists flying. But this time, Eli was ready. He dodged each punch with ease, his movements smooth and calculated. Olly's frustration grew with every miss, his attacks becoming more desperate.
Eli struck back, his batons connecting with Olly's ribs, arms, and legs. Each hit was precise, designed to incapacitate without causing too much damage. But Olly kept coming, refusing to go down.
"I don't care about control!" Olly shouted, his voice filled with rage. "I just want to win!"
Eli's eyes narrowed as he ducked under a wild swing, bringing his baton up to strike Olly's jaw. The impact sent Olly stumbling back, blood spraying from his mouth.
"You'll never win if you can't control yourself," Eli said coldly, his batons ready for the next attack.
Olly spat blood onto the floor, his eyes wild with fury. "I don't need control. I just need to take you down."
The two stood facing each other, the room filled with the sound of their heavy breathing. Eli could see the madness in Olly's eyes, the desperation. He knew that this fight wasn't just about Hostel, it was personal. Olly wanted to prove something, not just to Eli, but to himself.
But Eli wasn't going to let him.
With one final rush, Olly lunged at Eli, his fist aimed at Eli's head. But Eli was faster. He sidestepped the punch and brought his baton down hard on Olly's shoulder, dislocating it with a sickening crack.
Olly didn't stop, he swung with his other arm, but Eli blocked it, twisting Olly's arm behind his back and slamming him to the ground.
Olly lay there, panting, his body trembling with exhaustion. But even then, he laughed, his voice weak but filled with defiance.
"You… you're still holding back," Olly gasped, blood trickling from his mouth. "You could have killed me by now… but you haven't."
Eli looked down at Olly, his expression cold. "I'm not like you, Olly."
Olly's grin faded, his eyes filled with hatred as he glared up at Eli. "Maybe you should be."
Eli said nothing as he stepped back, his grip on his batons loosening. The fight was over, but the tension between them remained. Olly wasn't defeated, not in the way that mattered. He would keep coming, keep fighting, until one of them was dead.
But Eli knew that day hadn't come yet. He wasn't ready to cross that line, not yet.
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End of the chapter
Author Out!