Chapter 185
COMPETITION (4)
It didn't take long for another familiar name to echo across the arena. Only two matches had passed since Yohan's and now it was Reuel's turn.
He shot to his feet with his chest puffed out like a rooster, only to immediately deflate when he heard the name of his opponent.
"…Zara?"
Yohan's head perked up. "Zara?"
Henry burst out laughing. "Ha! After all that trash talk on the sidelines, you really got matched with the craziest person here!"
"I don't think she's that crazy…" Yohan muttered under his breath.
IAM leaned back with a smirk. "I don't know, Reuel… she might cook your little ass out there."
Reuel held up a hand. "Okay, wow. Just because she looks like the kind of girl who could beat me up doesn't mean anything. That's profiling. You're being stereotypical."
"Good luck, buddy," Henry said, grinning.
Reuel kissed his teeth and made his way down toward the stage.
From somewhere in the seating area, a voice called out, "Oh, it's Reuel! I love that guy!"
Another followed, "He's hilarious—but lowkey kinda hot, too."
A third voice chimed in, a bit begrudgingly, "Hmph. He's… alright, I guess."
Reuel's grin stretched smug across his face as he heard them. His eyes sparkled with self-importance, like he was already soaking in imaginary spotlight. This was the kind of reception he believed he deserved daily.
With a little bounce in his step, he strutted confidently onto the stage.
Hobbie gave Reuel a slow once-over, his eyes narrowing with the kind of skeptical amusement one reserved for someone clearly in over their head.
Reuel, twirling a wooden spear in his hands, looked anything but confident. He had been complaining all morning that the weight distribution wasn't to his liking, that the grip felt "off," and that spears were "overrated anyway"—but now, he had no choice but to make do.
He gave Zara a polite nod, trying to recover some of his earlier bravado. "What's up. Small world, huh? To think we'd run into each other like this."
Zara tilted her head slightly, staring at him with a vacant sort of curiosity. "…Uhhh. Do I know you?"
Reuel clutched his chest dramatically, staggering a step backward. "No… No! You have to be doing that on purpose. You're using backhanded tricks to destroy my self-esteem and mental health… I… I can't forgive you!"
"Okay, stranger!" she chirped, completely unfazed, before pulling up her weapon.
Or rather… weapons.
She had somehow tied four wooden hammers together into one monstrous, chaotic lump of destruction,grinning brightly as she swung the Frankenstein hammer through the air like it weighed nothing.
Reuel broke into a cold sweat, beads forming across his forehead as he wiped them away with the back of his arm. His eyes bulged as he pointed an accusing finger at her. "What the… What the hell is that!? That can't be regulation! This spear's gonna snap like a twig!"
Zara tapped her bottom lip thoughtfully. "They didn't have any hammers big enough," she said innocently, "and the ones they had were so light."
Reuel turned to Hobbie in desperation, looking for salvation—only to see the bald instructor giving a double thumbs-up, a dangerously enthusiastic grin plastered across his face.
"Looks all good to me!" Hobbie announced, clearly enjoying this a little too much.
"I… I surr—"
"You better not give up!" came Henry's voice from the sidelines.
"Be a man!" Yohan added. "We need to close the score gap! You lose and we're screwed!"
Reuel froze in place, his eyes were wide and a single tear slid down his cheek as he stared blankly ahead like a man approaching his execution.
Then the countdown began.
Three…
Two…
One…
Zara launched herself forward immediately, the four-hammer contraption swinging in a wide arc. It wasn't just force—it was speed, and the combined weight of the hammers made each swing feel punishing.
Reuel barely moved, stepping back instinctively as the first blow shattered the air beside his head with a loud crack. His spear twirled loosely in his hands, almost forgotten.
Another swing. He ducked, the hammer grazing the top of his hair, and he stumbled back, planting his feet hard to avoid losing balance. His heart raced as his arms shook slightly as he gripped the spear, the thin wood now feeling hopelessly inadequate.
He decided to take the initiative.
He shot forward like a sprinter at the bell, darting sideways instead of charging straight. His feet barely touched the ground as he danced around Zara in a wide arc, his spear twirling effortlessly in one hand.
Zara blinked once. "Oh! He's fast."
She swung her bundled hammer with a cheerful hum, the oversized monstrosity cutting through the air with a whumph that made a few students flinch in the stands. Reuel barely ducked under it, unable to attack.
Zara didn't pause. She spun, swinging diagonally, forcing him to leap to the side. The crowd's cheers blended into a dull roar in his ears as he tried to keep a mental map of the swinging chaos.
Reuel's strategy had been simple: use his spear for defense, dodge, tire her out, then strike—but none of it worked. Each block or sidestep left him more exposed, each swing from her hammer a reminder of just how chaotic and relentless she was.
A high swing came at his left side. He barely raised the spear in time, the wood splintering slightly under the force. He yelped, taking a step back, and the next blow smashed against the platform where he had been standing, sending vibrations through his feet.
He tried to jab again—low this time, aiming at her knee.
Zara skipped backward like they were playing hopscotch.
"I don't want to hurt you!" she said brightly, almost sing-song.
"I don't want you to either!" Reuel shouted back, holding up his spear as he stepped back.
The next few swings were deceptive—Zara lightly tapped the edge of the arena with her makeshift hammer, forcing Reuel to step back, pivot, and slide around. He relied on his legs, spinning and ducking, side-stepping every strike.
He lifted his knee to deflect a low swing and immediately jumped to the side to avoid a high arc, his spear barely grazing one of the hammers but not yet fully engaged.
The spectators leaned in, murmuring. His footwork was impressive, almost fluid, as he kept a safe distance. Reuel's breathing was heavy, beads of sweat running down his temple, but his eyes never left Zara's movements.
Suddenly, Zara changed her rhythm. She lunged with a wide horizontal swing, faster and heavier than before. Reuel had no choice—the spear shot up instinctively to block. The wood groaned under the impact, and a small crack appeared along the shaft. He staggered back, realizing his main tool could break any moment.
He switched tactics, relying almost entirely on dodges and kicks. When Zara pressed forward with a series of downward hammer strikes, Reuel bent his knees, leaping and sliding across the arena floor, narrowly avoiding each hit. He jabbed forward with a foot here and there, mostly to keep her attention, but every swing from her forced him into near-perfect evasive maneuvers.
Zara swung again, this time a side sweep, faster than anything he'd faced so far. Reuel barely dodged, twisting his body awkwardly, almost losing his balance entirely.
Her hammer came from the opposite side, and Reuel had no choice—he raised the spear horizontally to block it.
CRACK.
The wood groaned like it was crying out for help—and then it snapped clean in two, splinters flying.
Reuel stared at the broken shaft in horror. "No no no no—!"
Zara tilted her head. "Oops."
And then it happened. Zara shifted her weight, pulling her hammers back like a coiled spring. Reuel tried to sidestep, but she feinted left and rolled forward in a fluid motion, sweeping him off balance. He stumbled, tried to plant a foot and tried a desperate kick, but it wasn't enough. With a perfectly timed swing of the hammers, she sent him flying through the air, landing hard on the arena floor with a thud that echoed.
The spectators gasped, some clapping, some laughing, while Reuel groaned, struggling to sit up, his chest heaving. His spear lay shattered a few feet away, his legs still trembling from the intensity of dodging and blocking.
Then Zara skipped over, leaned down, and poked his shoulder. "Are you alive?"
Reuel groaned, eyes spinning. "I think I saw my soul leave for a bit…"
She poked him again, grinning. "Poke poke!"
"Stop saying stuff like that, it sounds weird!" he muttered, a low growl in his voice.
Zara just waved cheerfully, ignoring his protest, while Reuel lay sprawled on the ground, silently cursing every life choice that had led him here.
When he finally managed to haul himself onto his seat, landing with a heavy thud, he groaned, "I don't like your girlfriend, Yohan."
A faint blush spread across Yohan's face as he stammered, "She's not my girlfriend! I've never even… I mean—"
It was too late. Reuel seized the moment, determined to recover his mood by teasing and tormenting Yohan relentlessly.
IAM, sitting quietly in the background, couldn't help but comment, "It might have been a different fight if you weren't using a wooden spear."
Reuel shot back immediately, voice full of indignation, "Of course it would!!"