From the edge of the crowd, a young man stepped forward. He was lean but well-built, with calm, piercing eyes that seemed to see right through Giroud. Despite his youthful appearance, he couldn't have been older than twenty; his presence was commanding, even unsettling.
"Who are you?" Giroud demanded, his voice losing some of its bravado. The young man didn't look like much at first glance, but something about him set Giroud on edge. His instincts, honed by years of combat, screamed at him to be wary.
The young man stopped at the edge of the platform and looked up at Giroud, his voice steady and unyielding. "You're looking for a fight, aren't you?" he said. "I'll fight you."
The simplicity of the statement silenced the room. Murmurs rippled through the crowd as all eyes turned to the young man. Giroud raised an eyebrow, studying him carefully. There was no fear in his stance, no hesitation in his words. In fact, the calm confidence radiating from him was almost unnerving.
Giroud scoffed, masking his unease with a sneer. "You? A kid like you thinks he can take me on? Don't make me laugh."
Harry, unbothered by the insult, stepped onto the platform. "Laugh if you want," he said evenly. "But you won't be laughing for long."
Without another word, Harry launched forward, his fist flying toward Giroud in what appeared to be a simple punch. But there was nothing simple about it. The strike was a culmination of the Red Bird training method, honed and perfected. The sheer force behind it caused the air to ripple as it barreled toward Giroud.
Giroud's instincts kicked in. His body tensed, and he thrust his palms forward, meeting the punch with a powerful strike of his own. The collision was cataclysmic. The impact sent a shockwave through the arena, the ground beneath them cracking and spidering outward like shattered glass.
Giroud's eyes widened in shock as he felt the force of the punch reverberate through his body. This wasn't the strength of a mere student. It was something far greater; something dangerous. His hands trembled slightly as he pushed back with all his might, but Harry didn't flinch.
The crowd watched in stunned silence as the two fighters clashed, their combined power shaking the very foundation of the martial arts hall. For the first time, Giroud's arrogance faltered. The young man in front of him wasn't just a challenger, he was a threat.
Harry's voice cut through the noise, calm and unyielding. "You wanted a fight," he said, his fist still pressed against Giroud's palms. "Now you've got one."
The battle was just beginning.
The air was thick with tension, and the ground beneath the ring seemed to crackle with the residual energy of the clash. Harry stood at the center, his body radiating life force so potent that it seemed to shimmer in the air around him. Even the simplest movement; a punch, a kick; carried a devastating power that left everyone watching in stunned silence.
"That's… Zack?" Ellie's voice wavered, her disbelief evident as she clutched the edge of the railing. She wasn't alone. The other members of the Red Bird Dojo, standing around her, were equally shocked. They stared at Harry as if he were a stranger, their expressions a mix of awe, confusion, and disbelief.
"How did he… when did he become this strong?" Ellie muttered to herself, her voice drowned out by the whispers of those around her. To them, Harry was still the young man who had joined the school barely two years ago, an ordinary student with no remarkable history. It was only recently, when he displayed the strength of an elite fighter, that people began to take note of him. But now?
Now, the sheer force of his life energy revealed something undeniable: Harry wasn't just an elite fighter. He was at the level of a Dojo master; a level that seemed unreachable for someone of his age and experience. This revelation shattered their perceptions, leaving them reeling.
While the crowd stood paralyzed by the shock of what they were witnessing, the fight in the ring escalated.
"Go to hell!" Giroud roared, his face contorted with rage. His fighting style was pure ferocity, a relentless, wild assault that resembled a charging beast. Every punch, every kick he threw seemed designed to kill, each movement carrying the force of a raging storm. He was a fighter who thrived on overwhelming his opponents, crushing them under sheer brute strength.
But Harry wasn't just enduring Giroud's assault; he was matching it. Blow for blow, his speed and power met Giroud's with ease. His movements were calm, precise, and devastating, in stark contrast to Giroud's wild aggression.
The clash of their life forces sent shockwaves through the arena. The floor cracked beneath them, and the air buzzed with energy. To the spectators, it felt as though they were witnessing a battle between titans.
Then, in an instant, Harry found his opening.
With a sudden burst of speed, he drove his fist forward, a punch that seemed deceptively simple yet carried an unimaginable force. It struck Giroud square in the chest. The sound of the impact echoed through the hall, and Giroud's massive frame was lifted off the ground before he was sent hurtling backward. His body slammed into the ground outside the ring with a thunderous crash.
The arena fell silent.
For a moment, no one moved, no one spoke. Then, as the reality of what had just happened sank in, a roar of cheers erupted from the crowd. The members of the Red Bird Dojo exploded into celebration, their voices filled with relief and triumph. They surged toward the ring, their eyes locked on Harry.
He stood at the center of the chaos, his expression calm and unreadable. Despite the frenzied cheers around him, Harry's demeanor remained steady, as though the fight had been little more than an inconvenience.
"Do you want to continue?" Harry's voice rang out, cool and steady, cutting through the noise. His gaze fell on Giroud, who was struggling to rise from the ground.
Giroud wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, his chest heaving as he glared at Harry. But the fire in his eyes had dimmed. He knew he'd been beaten. "You fought well," Giroud admitted, his tone bitter yet Girouddgingly respectful. "You win this time."
With that, Giroud turned and limped away, supported by a few of his followers. His defeat was undeniable, and though Harry watched him leave with a sharp glint in his eye, he chose not to strike.
Harry's hand twitched slightly, his instinct telling him to finish the job. Enemies should be eliminated, he thought to himself. Leaving them alive only invites trouble later. But this wasn't the wilderness. This was a Dojo, and reporters crowded the edges of the arena, cameras rolling. Killing Giroud now would tarnish not just his reputation, but that of the school as well.
Not here, Harry thought, letting his hand fall to his side. I'll deal with him another time.
As Giroud disappeared from view, Harry stepped down from the ring. No sooner had his feet touched the ground than a swarm of reporters descended upon him. clamoring for answers.
"Harry, how does it feel to defeat a Dojo master-level fighter?"
"What's your secret? Is this a technique from the Red Bird Dojo?"
"Do you think you'll challenge other Dojo masters next?"
Harry pushed through the crowd, his patience wearing thin. These people, he realized, had been invited by Giroud to document Steven's supposed defeat and humiliation. Instead, they'd captured Giroud's downfall. While that worked in Harry's favor, the sheer volume of questions and attention made him uneasy.
Finally, after much effort, he broke free of the crowd. He spotted Ellie waiting nearby, her expression a mix of relief and something else; something harder to read. She stepped forward to meet him.
"The teacher wants to see you," she said, her voice steady but tinged with emotion. Her gaze lingered on Harry, her thoughts clearly racing. Whatever her opinion of him had been before, it had clearly changed now.
Harry nodded, his expression remaining neutral. "Lead the way."
As Ellie turned to guide him, Harry couldn't help but glance back at the reporters, still abuzz with excitement. He knew the headlines that would circulate tomorrow: 'A young fighter defeats a Dojo master-level rival'. But what concerned him more was the shift in how he would be perceived. The strength he'd revealed today would not go unnoticed, and while it might earn him respect, it would also attract enemies.
Still, Harry walked forward without hesitation. If his teacher had summoned him, it could only mean one thing, the Red Bird Dojo wasn't done with him yet. And, deep down, he knew neither was Giroud.