The fight began not as a clash, but as a dissection.
The Deep Sea King, enraged by the stinging cut and the blatant disrespect, charged again. This time, he moved with the full, terrifying speed of his hydrated form, a blur of green muscle and fury. His fist, capable of pulverizing concrete, shot toward Hakai's head.
Hakai didn't meet it with a block. He flowed. He pivoted on the ball of his foot, the massive fist whistling past his ear close enough to rustle his hood. As the monster's momentum carried him forward, Hakai's hand came up in a sharp, knife-edged strike to the passing bicep. It wasn't meant to cripple, but to test. He felt the dense, rubbery muscle give way slightly.
Shink. Shink.
Two more En slashes, flicked from his other hand, traced parallel lines across the Deep Sea King's back. They were precise, surgical, scoring the flesh but avoiding the spine. The monster roared in frustration, spinning around with a sweeping tail kick that shattered the concrete floor where Hakai had been standing a moment before.
Hakai had already leaped, a light, effortless vault that carried him over the attack. He landed silently, his red pupils alight with a focused glee.
"Is this the absolute strength of a king?" he called out, his tone rising with excitement. "Your power is brute force, unrefined! Where is the technique? The finesse? Show me the resolve that earned you your crown!"
He was a provocateur, his words as sharp as his slashes. He wasn't just fighting; he was conducting a brutal interview, and the Deep Sea King was failing the audition.
The monster responded with a guttural roar, unleashing a torrent of corrosive spit. Hakai didn't retreat. A wide, horizontal wave of his hand sent a broader En slash that cut through the acidic projectiles in mid-air, neutralizing them with a sizzle before they could reach him. The severed globs of spit fell harmlessly to the floor, eating tiny holes into the concrete.
The civilians watched, mesmerized and terrified. This was unlike any hero fight they had ever seen. There were no grand speeches, no desperate struggles. The hooded figure was a artist, and the monster was his unwilling canvas. Each movement was economical, each slash a deliberate stroke. He was analyzing, probing, and yes, playing.
Hakai closed the distance again, this time engaging in close-quarters combat. His fighting style was a brutal, flowing dance. A rapid jab to the monster's gut stole its breath, followed by a spinning heel kick to the side of its knee that forced a grunt of pain. Between the physical blows, his hands would flicker, and another nearly invisible En slash would appear on the Deep Sea King's body—on a shoulder, a thigh, the side of its face.
The shelter was being devastated, but not from wild, uncontrolled blows. The destruction was a byproduct of Hakai's precision. A slash meant for the monster's head would continue and shear a support pillar behind it. A dodged punch from the King would obliterate a section of wall Hakai had just been standing against. It was a dance of controlled chaos, and Hakai was leading.
"C'mon, that can't be your best!" he taunted, his grin widening as he ducked under a wild swing. He delivered three rapid-fire punches to the monster's chest, the sound like a jackhammer. "You conquered the deep! Show me that depth! Show me something that makes my heart pound!"
The Deep Sea King was growing desperate. This opponent was unlike any other. He wasn't just strong; he was untouchable, a phantom that struck and vanished, leaving only stinging cuts and mocking words. The constant, minor injuries were adding up, and his regeneration, while powerful, was being taxed by the relentless, pinpoint assault.
With a final, infuriated bellow, the Deep Sea King decided to end it. He stopped his frantic attacks and took a deep, powerful breath, his chest expanding. The air in the shelter grew heavy. He was going to unleash his ultimate technique, the Catastrophic Cannon, a blast of pressurized water powerful enough to liquefy everyone inside.
Hakai's eyes sharpened. Finally. A signature move. A true test.
"Yes… now we're getting somewhere," he murmured, his body coiling.
As the Deep Sea King unleashed the colossal torrent of water, Hakai didn't try to slice it. He met it head-on. He clapped his hands together, and for a brief moment, a serpentine dragon of blue energy formed around them. As he pulled them apart, a bowstring of intense, blazing blue flame—the Blaze Vortex—settled between his two fingers.
He didn't throw it. He fired it like an arrow, straight into the heart of the oncoming water cannon.
The effect was instantaneous and catastrophic. The water met the super-heaved hybrid fire-and-lightning and exploded. Not outwards, but inwards and upwards, in a contained, furious reaction. A dome of scalding steam erupted with a deafening BOOM, blasting a massive hole through the shelter's roof. The rain poured in through the new opening, mingling with the dissipating steam.
When the steam cleared, the Deep Sea King stood panting, his hydrated form now completely dried out from the intense heat. He was smaller, more muscular, and his eyes burned with a new, primal rage. He had been forced into his most powerful state.
Hakai stood across from him, the rain from the new skylight drenching him. He looked at the transformed monster, and a true, exhilarated smile finally broke across his face. His white sclera seemed to glow in the gloom.
"There," he said, his voice full of genuine approval. "There is the king I wanted to fight. No more holding back."
The warm-up was over. The real dance was about to begin.