NOVEL NEXT Chapter 31: Tournament: Part XI
Nova leapt high, using a broken fragment on the stone wall as a springboard, flipping through the air, landing behind the bully. He caught the bully with a quick knee to the spine, forcing him forward onto the ground. Nova's hand followed, smashing into the back, shoulder, and neck in a rapid sequence of bone-jarring strikes. The bully twisted, sending Nova sliding across the floor with a hard kick to the chest. Pain blossomed like the pink cherry trees in Japan, in Nova's ribs again, each breath sharp and shallow.
The bully raised his arms, sending a vertical wave of stone shards into the air. They fell like piercing acid rain, forcing Nova to roll, duck, and strike through them, his fists smashing stones mid-flight. His palms bled furiously, knuckles raw and torn.
Dust and fragments filled the mini-arena, sticking to his blood-soaked skin. He lunged, elbow forward, smashing into the bully's ribs. A grunt of pain escaped the bully as Nova followed up with a knee to the gut, spinning him over.
The bully's eyes narrowed. He slammed both fists into the ground, splitting it violently. Nova was thrown back, skidding across the rocky floor, scarping blood and dust into every open wound. The amount of illness he would accumulate, without any healing, after the tournament, would be nasty but legendary.
Nova rolled forward, using his momentum to come up in a fighting stance. His fists clenched, cracked, and bleeding, but his focus was unwavering. He was somewhat in the zone.
The bully smirked again, summoning rigid walls that began closing in from all sides. The arena kept shrinking, squishing the two together. Nova darted forward, pivoting and striking, breaking one wall into fragments, but each swing brought only temporary relief. More stone erupted from the floor, aimed to impale, crush, or block him.
Nova slammed into a wall to stop his momentum, pivoting and delivering a spinning backfist that connected with the bully's jaw. The impact sent both stumbling back, the bully smacking into a jagged spike, forcing a gasp. Blood trickled from the corner of the bully's lip, but he remained standing, eyes burning with anger.
Nova's breaths were shallow, ragged. His knuckles screamed from overuse. Every part of his body burned with pain, but his fists moved automatically again. Each strike, kick, and elbow was executed with ruthless precision. He smashed a spike into dust, kicked another into the wall, and ducked a flurry of vigorous projectiles.
The bully hurled a chunk of the wall at him, massive enough to crush a human. Nova sidestepped, grabbed the stone mid-air, and threw it back, catching the bully off-guard. He followed with a straight punch to the chest, driving the man back into a corner. Dust and rubble rained down around them; the arena had become a chaotic storm of rocks, blood, and sweat.
"You're fast," the bully growled, catching his breath, his hands glowing faintly again. "But this isn't over just yet!" He slammed the ground violently, raising spikes that ripped through the floor, slashing at Nova's legs, midsection, and arms. One spike grazed Nova's forearm deep and stung. He twisted in pain but kept moving, relentless.
Nova's fists and feet became a blur, a whirlwind of blood and fury. He smashed stone, evaded spikes, kicked debris, and pummeled the bully into defensive positions. Blood streaked his body, sweat mixed with dust and filth, but he moved forward, pushing the bully back with every strike.
The bully backed up, struggling to maintain control over the battlefield as Nova's relentless assault forced him to react defensively. Walls and spikes were crushed, thrown aside, and pulverized as Nova closed in, inch by inch, strike by strike, leaving the bully on the ropes.
The air was thick with dust, as the battlefield became more dangerous with shattered stone and rubble spread everywhere. Both combatants were bruised, bloodied, and gasping, but Nova's aggression and precision gave him the edge. Every strike landed, every evasion calculated, and the bully's earth manipulation, though strong, was being chipped away by sheer force, speed, and skill.
Nova's blood-red eyes locked onto the bully, fists ready to rumble. A final strike, precise, calculated, brutal, could end this. He lunged, elbows and fists raining down, smashing into the bully's defenses, crushing walls and stone spikes around them. Dust and blood filled the arena more.
The bully tried to counter, but Nova was faster, smarter, more relentless. Each strike to the bone, each elbow and knee, forced him to retreat. Pain etched across both faces, but Nova's mastery of his own body, his brutality, and raw, unrelenting focus began to dominate.
The walls shook violently as both combatants slammed into stone, but Nova's fists found the bully's jaw, snapping it sideways. Blood spurted, teeth clattering, and the bully fell to one knee, struggling to raise an arm. Nova didn't pause. He smashed a knee into the ribs, followed by an uppercut to the jaw. The man's body twisted, collapsed slightly, and blood poured freely from even more wounds.
Nova stepped back, chest rising, eyes burning, fists bloody and raw, the bully struggling to breathe, pinned by shattered stone. The dust settled, and for a brief second, the arena fell silent, both combatants drenched in blood and sweat, surrounded by the carnage of earth and mortal fury.
Nova exhaled through his nose, chest rising, the metallic tang of blood filling his senses. He wiped a smear from his forehead with the back of his hand, flicking dust and blood onto the ground. The bully's ragged breaths rattled through the broken silence, each inhale sounding like a rasping wind through jagged rock.
Nova's fists flexed, the skin raw, knuckles crusted with blood, yet his eyes remained locked on the man, unwavering. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, the shattered stones crunching beneath his boots, echoing across the arena.
Around them, fragments of the earth and dust hung in the air like a grim haze, a testament to the violent clash of their abilities. Every muscle in Nova's body screamed in exhaustion, but adrenaline kept him poised, ready for whatever feeble resistance the bully could muster next.