The silence in the high-density training room was almost absolute, broken only by the faint hum of the energy shields. The two men faced each other, a study in contrasts. Superman, the archetype of raw power, an immovable rock. Utopian, leaner, but with every muscle seeming to hold a concentrated, perfectly controlled energy.
Superman: At your pace, Marcus.
Utopian nodded. He dropped into a low stance, fists clenched but relaxed, feet planted with a stability that spoke of hours of training. It wasn't the posture of a brawler, but of a technician.
The first move came from Utopian. A feint with the left foot, followed by a rapid right jab. Superman raised his arm to block, the impact ringing like metal. He smiled, confident.
Superman: You hit hard. But...
He threw a straight right punch, direct and powerful, meant to push back, not to injure. Utopian didn't try to block it. Instead, he pivoted on his heel, using Superman's own momentum. His hand grabbed his opponent's wrist, his other arm sliding under the bicep. Using his hip as a lever, he executed a jiu-jitsu throw, sending Superman flying over his shoulder.
The Kryptonian landed heavily on his back, a surprised "OOF!" escaping his lips. The sound echoed in the silent room.
Utopian, stepping back: You don't block a superior force. You redirect it.
A murmur of surprise ran through the few observers. Flash stopped eating, his eyes wide. Batman, in the shadows, didn't move, but his attention was palpable.
Superman got up, looking more intrigued than annoyed. He charged again, faster this time. A series of punches that would have reduced a mountain to dust. Utopian didn't retreat. He used Bartitsu, a ballet of dodges and parries. He deflected a blow with his forearm, sidestepped a hook, and used the palm of his hand to redirect a straight punch downward, throwing Superman off balance.
Superman: You dance well.
Utopian: And you punch like a jackhammer. Predictable.
Frustrated, Superman attempted a powerful grab, aiming to immobilize Utopian in his arms. It was a mistake. As his arms closed in, Utopian abruptly dropped his center of gravity and unleashed a barrage of short, precise elbow and knee strikes – close-quarter Bartitsu techniques designed to break holds. The blows reverberated against Superman's invulnerable torso, not to injure him, but to create an opening.
Seizing the moment, Utopian planted his foot behind Superman's heel and pushed. Thrown off balance by the sudden assault and the technique, the Kryptonian stumbled backward, briefly kneeling on one knee.
All that was left was to touch the weak point. As Superman looked up, surprised, Utopian launched a rapid palm strike, not towards his face, but which stopped a millimeter from his eyes.
The movement was frozen.
The room was silent.
Superman looked at the suspended hand, then raised his eyes to Utopian. There was no anger in his gaze, but a new respect.
Superman, breathing lightly: Point to you.
Utopian straightened up and offered a hand to help him up.
Utopian: An invulnerable body is useless if your opponent can bypass your strength. Technique can overcome brute power.
Superman took his hand and got back to his feet, a genuine smile on his face.
Superman: Message received. It seems I need more than just strength. Perhaps you could show me some of those techniques.
Utopian: That can be arranged.
As they left the training room, the atmosphere had changed. It was no longer just the return of a hero. It was the arrival of a new level of skill, a new philosophy of combat. Utopian had proven that with the right technique, even a god could be brought to his knees.