Babar held his breath, nerves on edge.
Trouble was brewing.
Should he discreetly alert the other teams? He couldn't shake the feeling that Sergeant Kane was about to be pulverized by this behemoth.
Wade, too, sensed something amiss. Could it be that despite their friendly banter, Butcher Garcia was here to avenge the Wiry Samurai's bruised ego?
"So, what do you say?" Butcher Garcia asked, tilting his head and plucking a blade of grass from his mouth with thick, calloused fingers.
I studied him, noting the genuine innocence in his eyes. There was no malice, only a fierce eagerness for a challenge.
"Sure," I replied, considering suitable sparring locations within the station.
But before I could finish my thought, Butcher Garcia lunged forward. The 100-pound kettlebell, now a mere projectile in his grip, hurtled towards me with a deafening whistle.
The attack was too swift, too unexpected. The others barely had time to react.
I assessed the desks and wall behind me, gauging the potential damage. With a lightning-fast pivot, I caught the kettlebell's handle mid-air. The impact reverberated through my arm, but my feet remained planted, my body unyielding.
"Quite frugal, aren't you?" Butcher Garcia's voice boomed. His massive form had somehow materialized behind me, his thick arms swinging down like iron wrecking balls. If they connected, my shoulder blades would shatter like glass.
I remained calm, leaning forward to evade the blow. In the same fluid motion, I channeled my First Realm essence into the kettlebell in my hand, striking upwards with all my might, connecting with Garcia's unshaven chin.
A dull thud echoed through the room.
A flicker of surprise crossed Garcia's face. He stumbled back two steps, the entire building shuddering under his immense weight. He rubbed his chin, a wide grin splitting his face. "Impressive reflexes," he rumbled, seemingly unfazed.
The others watched in stunned silence. A strike capable of shattering a concrete wall had only managed to make this behemoth take two steps back.
Others saw nothing unusual, but Wade's pupils constricted.
Just yesterday, Sergeant Kane kicked the tigervamp to the ground, causing it to spit out blood. What kind of monster was this man?
I was equally surprised, not from the impact itself, but from the realization that he did not mobilize his First Realm essence.
My thoughts raced as I unleashed a flurry of attacks, my movements enhanced by the Cobra's Coil, making me a phantom in the midst of desks and furniture.
Despite García's surprising speed, his massive frame made him an easy target, and his protruding tummy blocked his view when looking down.
Yet, he stood firm, seemingly unbothered by my onslaught. His greasy skin proved unexpectedly tough, absorbing my strikes like hardened leather.
Seizing an opening, Garcia's meaty hand darted to his waist, the silver butcher knife flashing towards the ground with blinding speed.
The force of the strike cleaved through the vinyl floor into the concrete, but I used his momentum against him. Before he could recover, I delivered a powerful kick to his waist, sending his colossal body tumbling to the ground, knocking over a desk and a chair.
Michael Wright, his eyes wide with terror, scrambled out of the way.
"Boring! Utterly boring!" Garcia exclaimed, rising to his feet with surprising ease. "Your punches are impressive, but they're not enough to even warm me up."
His gaze locked onto the dagger at my waist, a hungry glint in his eyes. "Come on, draw your blade. I saw what it could do yesterday. Don't hold back on me."
I put down the kettlebell, cracked my knuckles, and reached for the hilt of my dagger.
I had initially intended for a friendly spar, but it was clear that Tempest Strikes alone wouldn't be enough against this formidable opponent.
In a flash, silver light and crimson mist filled the room.
"Now we're talking!" Butcher Garcia roared with delight, bracing himself for the onslaught.
My dagger met his crossed arms with a resounding clang, leaving a white mark on his seemingly impenetrable skin.
"Is this... a bastard turtle becoming sentient?" Wade's voice trembled with awe.
Butcher Garcia's smile faded as he examined the mark on his arm. "Impressive blade work..." he muttered, his tone laced with a newfound respect.
Before he could finish his sentence, I unleashed a relentless barrage of attacks, the Blood Evil Sword surging through my every move.
Garcia managed to block the first three strikes, his arms a blur of motion. When the fourth stroke came down, he suddenly rolled and dodged in embarrassment.
"Hold on!" he shouted, waving his hands frantically. "Give me a breather!"
I lowered my blade, a ghost of a smile playing on my lips.
Wade watched in confusion as the fight ended as abruptly as it started. His gaze then settled on Butcher Garcia's raised arm, and a chill ran down his spine. The initial white mark from the dagger strike was now enveloped in a sinister red mist, the bone beneath visible through the rapidly corroding flesh.
Beads of sweat formed on Garcia's brow as he fought back the pain, using his First Realm essence to dispel the encroaching mist. Finally, he looked up, relief washing over his face.
"That's not a technique a good man would use," he remarked, a grin spreading across his face. "But I love it!"
I frowned slightly, puzzled by his lack of resistance earlier. Why hadn't he used his essence to counter the Blood Evil Sword's corrosive effect?
Garcia stood, excitement radiating from his imposing frame. He patted his belly and boomed, "What do you think?"
I nodded, impressed. "Truly impressive body training," I acknowledged.
"Interested in learning?" Garcia asked, his gaze fixed on my saber.
"Sergeant Kane, no!" Wade blurted out, his usual composure shattered.
He understood the complex relationship between the police and security schools. Accepting their knowledge came with strings attached; it wasn't something one could simply walk away from.
"Hold your horses, kid," Butcher Garcia chuckled, unfazed by Wade's outburst. "I'm here on my own, not on behalf my school. My intentions may not be entirely pure, but they won't harm Sergeant Kane."
He turned to me, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "Your swordsmanship... did it originate from Shadowstrike?"
His question caught me off guard.
"I've seen my fair share of techniques," Garcia continued, a knowing glint in his eyes. "And yours felt strangely familiar. I wouldn't dare touch H.A.R.M.'s classified training, even if it were offered freely. But for self-created techniques, there aren't so many restrictions. I happen to have made some improvements of my own. How about a trade?"
My heart quickened. If I could possess his physique, I wouldn't have felt so vulnerable against those snake women last night.
After a moment of deliberation, I decided on honesty. "I have no objections," I said, "but you might find this technique impossible to learn."
Garcia paused, then let out a hearty laugh. "Of course," he said, "such a sinister style wouldn't be found in any police academy. You probably picked it up from some vampiric scum."
He winked. "Let's just focus on the exchange. Why worry about whether I can master it or not?"
Sensing our conversation shifting toward martial arts, Wade discreetly cleared the squad room, ushering the remaining officers out before gently closing the door.