Chapter 184
COMPETITION (3)
The baton came in low and fast.
The blue class student grunted, parrying it with his forearm as he stepped in, turning the clash into close quarters. His opponent tried to retreat, jabbing her spear to create space, but he was already inside her range.
He slammed his shoulder into her chest, knocking her off balance, and swept his leg behind hers. She stumbled, lost her footing, and hit the ground with a thud.
She tried to roll away, but he was quick. He pressed the tip of his baton gently to her neck before she could get up.
Kevin stepped forward and raised his hand. "Red class wins."
A few cheers broke out from Hobbie's class as the red side pulled ahead once again. The scoreboard now read seven to eight in their favour.
Things had settled down somewhat after the high-energy buzz of Henry's match. The excitement that had crackled through the arena earlier now simmered into murmurs and casual chatter. The crowd was beginning to settle into the rhythm of the ongoing competition.
IAM's eyes drifted to a familiar face near the far end of the arena. Marcus was still there, standing off to the side, and unfortunately for him, he wasn't alone. A small group of students—three in total—were clearly enjoying themselves at his expense. They laughed, whispered loud enough to be heard, and pointed occasionally as if trying to keep the embarrassment alive.
It wasn't the loss itself that earned him this kind of attention. Students lost matches all the time. That was part of the game. But to lose twice to the same opponent? And worse still, the first time had been before Henry had even formed an Avien. Now, with one, the gap had been clear. This time, it hadn't been close. It had been almost decisive.
Even so, IAM found it hard to watch. The ones mocking him weren't exactly impressive themselves—two of the three had lost their own matches in forgettable fashion. Yet here they were, laughing the loudest.
IAM frowned. People like that… they were the worst kind. They would be loud in victory and louder in someone else's failure.
He glanced at Henry, who was clearly aware of the situation. He had noticed him glance over more than once. Knowing him better now, IAM could tell exactly what he was thinking—he wanted to say something. Do something.
And to be fair, Marcus hadn't even done anything wrong. Challenging someone to a duel wasn't a crime, and he had no clue who Henry was before that. It was just bad luck. He'd picked the wrong guy.
IAM leaned over slightly and whispered just loud enough for Henry to hear. "Don't do anything reckless. I mean, look at what happened the last time you tried to do something nice."
Henry didn't respond right away. He just turned his head to the side, curls bouncing slightly with the motion. "I know… It's just—"
Before he could finish, the announcement rang out through the arena. The next two fighters had been selected.
IAM perked up slightly at one of the names.
Reuel spun around in his seat and clapped Yohan on the shoulder with a grin. "You got this, bro!"
Yohan nodded, offering a faint smile in return. His expression stayed unreadable, calm in a way that was hard to pin down. Without a word, he pulled on his wooden gauntlets, flexing his fingers once to adjust the fit, then began making his way toward the stage.
A few girls from the blue class stood up from their seats, cupping their hands around their mouths as they shouted encouragement.
"Come on, Yohan!"
"You're so cute!"
"Woooooo!"
"I'm your biggest fan!"
Their voices echoed through the arena like a wave of teenage enthusiasm, loud and unashamed. Yohan rubbed the back of his head as he walked toward the stage, a faint red creeping up his neck. He wasn't used to that kind of attention, and it showed in the way he scratched his hair with a slightly sheepish expression.
But the moment he stepped onto the stage, his posture shifted. He straightened, his shoulders squared and his expression flattened into focus.
Across from him stood his opponent… and to say they were big would've been an understatement.
The student was built like a human mountain—bulky, thick around the middle, with broad shoulders and arms like tree trunks. It wasn't just fat, it was muscle too—one of those bodies where you couldn't quite tell where one ended and the other began. And judging from the smug grin plastered on their face, they were more than aware of their own size.
"Hahaha!" the student bellowed, spreading their arms wide like they were showing off a prize-winning statue. "I see you got a lil' bit of muscle, but you can't even begin to compare with my sexy body!"
Yohan raised an eyebrow at that. His mismatched eyes narrowed slightly, the cold burning glint in his blue eye flashing with amusement. "Is that so?" he said smoothly. "I'd love to test myself against this… ahem… sexy body of yours."
There was a second of silence.
Hobbie glanced between the two with a blank stare. "Are you guys flirting or trash talking?" he muttered under his breath, looking slightly disturbed.
Yohan's opponent cracked their knuckles, then planted their feet apart with a thunderous stomp. Their whole body shifted into something resembling a sumo stance— their arms out and fingers flexing like they were ready to crush boulders.
Meanwhile, a few murmurs broke out from the blue class.
"Uh… is Yohan gonna be okay? That guy's huge."
"Doesn't matter, as long as he lasts the two minutes. That's a draw at least."
"Big doesn't always mean stronger," someone else whispered. "Have some faith!"
Yohan stepped into position. His feet found their place on the arena's floor with practiced grace, and he raised his hands into a clean boxing stance— his knuckles just below eye level and elbows tucked with his chin slightly down. His focus narrowed. The cheers faded. Everything else fell away.
His eyes locked on his opponent.
And then—
Hobbie raised his hand. "Ready? In three… two… one—go!"
From the moment Hobbie dropped his hand, it was chaos.
Yohan's opponent exploded forward with surprising speed for someone their size. There was no caution—just a wave of raw momentum and weight. The first hit landed with a dull thud, a palm strike right into Yohan's side, sending him staggering.
Gasps echoed from the crowd.
"Come on!" someone from red class shouted, already pumped.
Yohan didn't retaliate. He adjusted his footing and brought his guard back up, but another blow followed—this time a shoulder bash that slammed him off-balance and forced him to the edge of the platform. The arena's protective formation shimmered faintly as his back nearly touched it.
"Damn… he's getting tossed around," Reuel muttered, wincing.
Another thud. Yohan was lifted slightly off the ground and thrown like a ragdoll into the corner of the ring. He managed to stay standing, but just barely, with his shoulders heaving. Sweat rolled down his temple, and still… not a single punch thrown.
"What is he doing?" someone hissed. "Is he just stalling?"
"He's not even fighting back!"
His opponent laughed, bouncing in place and slapping his stomach. "What's the matter, pretty boy? Too scared to hit me!? "
"Why isn't he hitting back?"
"Is this a joke?"
"You gonna let him treat you like that, Yohan!?"
He was thrown again—this time into the center of the ring. The thud echoed as he hit the ground and rolled once. He coughed, and even as he stood again, his footwork seemed slower. His arms trembled slightly when he brought his guard back up.
He charged again, and Yohan ducked low—barely avoiding a wide grab that could've ended it. Another thud followed as Yohan was shoved backward, his shoes dragging a line on the arena floor. Ten seconds passed. Then twenty. Then thirty. It was becoming brutal to watch.
He was being crushed, bit by bit. It was starting to look like he wasn't stalling—he was losing.
"Just stay down already!" his opponent barked, slamming a knee into his thigh. Yohan's leg buckled, but he didn't fall.
Even IAM began to frown. "This isn't like him..."
The clock ticked down. Only 40 seconds left.
Yohan's opponent roared and came in swinging again. "I'll crush you!"
Yohan raised his arms, took the hit—and didn't move.
Suddenly something changed...
His feet slid slightly apart.
His eyes narrowed.
And for the first time since the fight started… he stepped forward.
A blur.
His body began to sway left, then right, then left again. A strange weaving motion began to build as he dipped and ducked—his shoulders rolling, hips twisting. Like a pendulum gaining momentum.
"What the hell is he doing?" someone whispered.
"That's—wait—is that a—?"
"Dempsey Roll…" IAM muttered, eyes wide.
The moment Yohan had the angle, his entire body snapped upward in a vicious, rising arc. His legs drove the power, hips twisting, shoulders rolling into the strike. His gloved fist rocketed from below with all the force he'd been coiling for nearly two minutes.
A perfect, devastating uppercut.
It landed square on the bottom of his opponent's jaw.
CRACK.
Time stopped.
The massive student's feet lifted off the floor—actually lifted—as his entire body was launched several inches into the air.
Gasps rang out.
He hit the ground like a dropped bag of bricks—flat on his back, his arms spread wide and eyes dazed and blinking at the sky.
Silence.
Then an eruption of cheers from the blue class.
Even Hobbie blinked for a moment before raising his arm. "Winner—blue!"
Reuel whooped. "YOHAN!! THAT'S MY GUY!"
Yohan stepped back, exhaled slowly, and adjusted his gauntlets with the same expression he'd walked in with… like nothing had happened.
Yohan approached the bag of potatoes that was his opponent, now sprawled flat on the ground. He crouched slightly, leaning in close enough that only the dazed student could hear.
Through the haze of ringing ears and blurred vision, the downed fighter could barely make out the two different coloured eyes staring back at him—one a burning, icy blue, the other a warm, earthy brown. Together, they looked through him.
Whatever Yohan whispered was lost in the buzz flooding his head.
Then Yohan straightened, turned, and left the arena without a word.
The blue class burst into cheers—especially the girls.
"You're so cool and cute!"
"That was so manly!"
"Sexy too... Mmm..."
Yohan slipped past them with awkward haste, his face blank but clearly avoiding eye contact. He dropped down onto the bench beside IAM.
IAM smiled faintly. "That was a Path method, wasn't it?"
Yohan blinked and glanced sideways. "You noticed?"
"It was impressive."
A few seconds of silence passed.
"…Thanks."