The room was deathly silent.
Across from Tae, the boy stood motionless, shirtless, his dark hair falling messily over a face that was somehow calm yet predatory. His hands hung loose at his sides, but Tae noticed how the veins in his forearms and fingers bulged unnaturally, pulsing like living cords of steel.
The boy's quiet, focused gaze felt like something heavy pressing down on Tae, and he narrowed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing.
They didn't move, didn't speak, just stared. The longer they stood there, the more Tae felt it—that suffocating sense of danger radiating from his opponent.
He's not normal.
Tae didn't know what exactly was wrong with this kid, but his instincts screamed at him to be careful, to keep his distance.
The mechanical voice from the observation room crackled overhead. "Begin."
The boy moved first.
His lunge was sharp and deliberate, his clawed hand cutting through the air toward Tae's throat. Tae sidestepped, barely dodging the strike, and countered with a quick jab to the ribs. His fist connected, but it was like punching a wall. The boy didn't flinch, didn't even react. Instead, his other hand swept toward Tae's midsection, forcing him to leap back.
For a moment, neither moved again, circling each other in silence.
He doesn't waste energy, Tae thought, trying to read the boy's movements. No hesitation. No openings.
Tae darted forward, feinting left before slipping to the right and firing a quick one-two combination at the boy's torso. He was fast, faster than the boy, and his strikes landed cleanly.
But again, the boy barely seemed to notice. His expression didn't change, his eyes didn't even flicker.
The boy stepped in close, faster than Tae expected, and swiped with his right hand—a claw-like strike aimed at Tae's neck. Tae ducked under it, pivoting to the side, but the boy's other hand lashed out immediately, catching him off guard. Tae barely twisted out of reach, the tips of the boy's fingers grazing his hoodie.
He's not just strong—he's precise. Every movement was calculated, every attack perfectly timed to cut off Tae's escape.
---
From the observation room, Nine leaned forward, her silver hair framing her face as she watched the fight with keen interest. "He's faster than I thought," she murmured, watching Tae evade another strike.
The man beside her didn't look impressed. "Speed won't matter if he can't do damage. He'll tire himself out eventually."
Nine smirked, resting her chin on her hand. "Maybe. But he's clever. He's lasting longer than most would against a steel claw user."
The man shrugged, his focus never leaving the screen. "It doesn't matter how long he lasts if he doesn't find a way to win. The moment that kid gets a grip on him, it's over."
---
Tae could feel the pressure building. The boy was relentless, his attacks coming in waves, forcing Tae to dodge, weave, and retreat. He tried to counter when he could—a quick jab here, a low kick there—but nothing seemed to faze his opponent.
Every time Tae thought he saw an opening, it disappeared. The boy's claw-like hands moved with terrifying precision, always cutting off Tae's angles, always keeping him just within reach.
Why isn't the floating screen helping? Tae's mind raced as he ducked under another swipe. The blue screen he'd seen before, the mechanical voice that had given him advice in the last fight—it was gone. No glowing weak points, no tactical suggestions, nothing.
He spun away from another attack, his heart pounding, and then he saw it. The faint blue glow flickered at the edge of his vision, and the system's cold, detached voice whispered in his mind.
[Focus: Low.]
That was it. No advice, no explanation, just those two words.
"What the hell does that even mean?" Tae hissed under his breath, sidestepping a vicious claw strike aimed at his ribs. His frustration grew as the boy pressed forward, giving him no room to think, no room to breathe.
Tae lashed out with a quick kick to the boy's knee, forcing him to stumble slightly, and followed up with a sharp elbow to the jaw. For a split second, Tae felt a flicker of hope—finally, a reaction. The boy's head snapped to the side, and he staggered back a step.
But it didn't last. The boy's head slowly turned back to face him, his expression still eerily calm, his predatory gaze locked onto Tae like nothing had happened.
---
Nine tilted her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "He's clever. He's finding ways to hang on"
The man frowned. "It won't matter if he doesn't find a way to end it. That kid's technique is designed to break opponents. He can't keep this up forever."
---
Tae's lungs burned as he dodged another strike, his movements growing slower, more labored. His body screamed for rest, but he couldn't stop—not with those clawed hands coming for him, not with death just inches away.
The system flickered again.
[Focus: Critical. Recommend increase for optimal performance.]
Tae grit his teeth, his frustration boiling over. "Increase focus? You think I'm not trying?" he muttered, his voice shaking with exhaustion.
He dodged another swipe, but the boy was faster this time. His hand shot out like a vice, catching Tae's wrist. Pain flared as the boy's fingers clamped down, crushing the bones beneath. Tae twisted violently, breaking free just before the boy's other hand could grab him, but the escape cost him.
The boy's knee slammed into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him and sending him sprawling to the floor. Tae rolled to the side, barely avoiding a follow-up stomp, and scrambled to his feet, clutching his ribs.
Blood dripped from his lip, his vision blurred, but he forced himself to keep moving. He couldn't stop. Not now.
---
The man in the observation room leaned back, crossing his arms. "He's done. It's just a matter of time."
Nine didn't respond, her eyes fixed on the screen.
---
Tae's body felt like it was on fire. Every step, every breath was agony, but he refused to give up. He could see the boy closing in, his movements calm and intentional, like an animal on wounded prey.
The system's voice whispered again.
[Critical State. Survival unlikely without increased focus.]
What does that even mean? Tae thought bitterly, his vision swimming as he staggered backward. He could feel his strength slipping away, his movements slowing, his mind growing hazy.
The boy lunged one last time, his clawed hand raking across Tae's chest. Pain exploded as the fingers tore through flesh, leaving deep, bloody gashes behind. Tae stumbled, his knees buckling, and collapsed to the floor.
His vision dimmed, the edges of the world fading to black as he lay there, gasping for breath. He could hear the boy's footsteps approaching, slowly, but he couldn't move, couldn't fight back.
The system's voice crackled faintly in his mind.
[Consciousness fading. Survival unlikely.]
Tae's eyelids grew heavy, his body trembling as darkness closed in.