Luka's face transformed into an expression of pure ugliness the moment I gripped his fist.
Dead silence blanketed the entire arena.
"What... what just happened?" someone murmured from the crowd.
From offstage, Nola shouted: "Luka, quit fooling around and beat him already!"
I could tell from Luka's face that Nola's words infuriated him. It wasn't that he didn't want to move—he physically couldn't budge his fist from my grasp.
"This is your so-called inner strength?" I asked, letting mockery creep into my voice.
Luka's teeth clenched as he yelled, "Don't underestimate me!"
With that declaration, he balled his other hand into a fist and drove it straight toward my head. I remained perfectly still, allowing his punch to connect with full force.
A dull thud sounded, but I didn't move an inch. Meanwhile, Luka winced as if he'd struck concrete, pain radiating through his knuckles.
"How... how is that possible!" The color drained from Luka's face.
