The air crackled, a prelude to a collision that would scar the very earth. Javier Morales, in his full, terrifying demonic form—a whirlwind of obsidian flesh, jagged horns, and burning hatred—rose to meet Charlie's charge. He braced for the iron fist, a blow he knew would be devastating.
But Charlie was not a brawler. He was a fighter.
At the last possible second, he shifted his weight in midair. The iron fist was a feint. Instead of a punch, he twisted, his body a fluid conduit of 3-Star Jiu-jitsu. He wrapped his legs around Javier's outstretched arm, his iron form giving him immense weight and leverage. The impact wasn't a clean strike; it was a devastating takedown. Javier, his forward momentum used against him, was yanked off balance and slammed backward onto the scorched, cracked earth with a ground-shaking thud.
Javier was strong, however. He had been funneling his freshly harvested soul points into raw, brutal strength, and it showed. With a guttural roar, he pushed up, lifting Charlie's iron-clad body as if it were a mere inconvenience, and threw him through the air. Charlie, surprised by the sheer, brute force, let go of the arm and tucked into a roll, his Unbreakable Body absorbing the impact of the landing.
He got to his feet just as Javier, now truly enraged, charged. There was no technique, no finesse. It was a hurricane of pure, demonic fury. Fists like sledgehammers rained down, each one capable of turning a man to paste.
Charlie was caught off guard by the sheer speed and ferocity of the assault. But his Battle Instinct, that quiet, humming predator in the back of his mind, took over. His body moved before he consciously thought, his feet a blur of 4-Star Boxing footwork, a ghost-like dance of pivots and side-steps. His Kinetic Redirection passively absorbed 50% of the force from the few glancing blows that got through, but it was his Agility Spike and Predictive Reflexes that kept him alive. He could see it—the tensing of Javier's demonic shoulder muscles, the subtle shift in his weight—and he was already moving, dodging, weaving, making the monster punch at empty air.
"What's the matter?" Charlie taunted, his voice a low, steady rumble as he danced around the raging demon. "Can't hit what you can't see?"
Javier's roar of frustration shook the trees. He channeled all his rage into a single, massive overhand right, a blow designed to obliterate whatever it hit. This time, Charlie didn't dodge. He saw it coming, and he stepped into it. He braced, his body a fortress of iron and will, and took the full, unmitigated force of the demonic punch square on the chest.
The pain was a white-hot nova, an agony that would have vaporized the old Charlie. But he held his ground. He gritted his teeth, a bloody grin spreading across his face. Javier's demonic eyes widened in disbelief. He took it?
Charlie's body hummed, the kinetic energy of the blow a raging storm contained within him. He unleashed it. A single, straight right hand, powered by his own strength, the weight of his iron form, and 75% of Javier's own monstrous power.
Javier saw it coming and crossed his arms to block. The impact was cataclysmic. He didn't just block it; he was thrown backward, his demonic feet carving a ten-foot trench in the scorched earth before he came to a stop. What… what was that power?
Before he could process it, Charlie was on him. A relentless flurry of kicks, knees, and punches. A Taekwondo axe kick aimed for his head, but Javier, learning fast, ducked under it. He saw Charlie's intention, that flicker of predictive insight. This iron bastard… he's predicting my moves! He poured more soul points into agility, his body becoming a faster, more fluid engine of destruction.
He began to dodge Charlie's attacks, a blur of motion against a blur of motion. Charlie frowned, his own attacks now missing their mark. Then, he saw a spark. Javier spat a small glob of black fire. Charlie dodged, the fireball sizzling past his ear and exploding against a tree.
"Slow," Javier hissed, his voice a chilling, multi-layered whisper that seemed to hang in the air.
Suddenly, Charlie felt heavier. The surrounding air grew thick, like he was moving through molasses. His limbs felt sluggish, his reactions dulled. It was a debuff, a 10-meter aura of crushing weight.
Javier smiled, a predator's grin. He charged again, and this time, Charlie couldn't dodge as effectively. He was forced to block, to take the hits, his iron form clanging and groaning under the assault.
System Update: Hits received: +10. +15. +12. Total: 5,247/100,000.
This was not good. He was taking too much damage too quickly. He feinted a high punch, then dropped low, channeling his stored kinetic energy from all the hits into a sweeping low kick aimed at Javier's ankles.
Javier felt the power in the kick and leaped back, a flicker of genuine alarm in his demonic eyes. That kick… it had been even stronger than the punch that had sent him flying. This fucker… he's not fighting at 100%. He's underestimating me! MEEE!
Just as Javier was about to unleash his full, unrestrained fury, a new figure appeared at the edge of the fiery clearing.
He was tall, impossibly fast, a blur of motion that resolved into a man clad in a form-fitting armor of what looked like hardened, crimson blood. A sleek, fire-retardant mask covered his face, but the two burning, crimson eyes that peered out were ancient and full of a power that was neither human nor demonic.
The three of them stood in a tense, triangular standoff, the burning jungle a fitting backdrop for this convergence of impossible beings.
Now who the fuck is this? Javier thought, his demonic rage momentarily forgotten, replaced by a cold, wary curiosity.
Crimson eyes… Charlie's mind raced, his battle instinct screaming at him. Another one? Is he an enemy? A 2-v-1? Seriously?!