The battlefield was alive with chaos. Dust swirled through the air, kicked up by the feet of fighters from both sides. The hard soil of the abandoned industrial arena was cracked and pitted, marked by dozens of battles already fought that day. Broken metal containers, scattered debris, and the remains of previous clashes made every step precarious.
Orion faced Imanji.
Both were bruised, bloodied, and breathing hard. Orion's hoodie was torn at the sleeves; his knuckles raw from punches landed and received. Imanji's posture remained controlled, his glare sharp through every dust-filled breath, though now a thin trickle of blood ran down the side of his face from a glancing blow earlier.
The air between them seemed to pulse, a storm before the final clash.
> "You've improved since the last time we fought," Orion said, voice low, measured.
"But not enough."
Imanji's smirk was tight, almost forced. He lunged first, a straight right aimed at Orion's jaw. Orion ducked, letting the punch graze his shoulder. He rolled forward, closing the distance in an instant, and delivered a spinning elbow to Imanji's ribs.
CRUNCH!
Imanji grunted, stumbling back, but recovered quickly. He twisted, delivering a low sweep kick, aiming to topple Orion onto the cracked soil.
Orion jumped, flipped over the strike, landing behind Imanji. Without pause, he lashed out with a hooking punch to the back of Imanji's shoulder, forcing him forward. Dust exploded as Imanji stumbled, and Orion spun around, fists and elbows flying in a fluid combination that landed repeatedly across Imanji's ribs and torso.
Momentum Shifts
Imanji regained his footing quickly, blocking a high strike, countering with a vicious knee aimed at Orion's gut. Orion twisted, absorbing part of the impact, but the force pushed him back a few steps.
> "Strong… predictable," Orion muttered under his breath
Imanji growled, circling, testing Orion's guard, throwing feints, trying to create an opening. He feinted left, then struck right — a hard uppercut followed by a spinning back fist. Orion blocked, but the repeated strikes had him staggering slightly.
Then, Orion's eyes sharpened. He saw the rhythm, the slight telegraph before Imanji's elbow. Timing. Speed. Momentum.
Orion didn't just react — he predicted.
As Imanji lunged for a straight cross, Orion stepped forward, caught his wrist mid-air, and twisted violently, slamming him into a metal container. The clang of steel echoed across the field.
Imanji groaned, staggered, but rolled free, planting his boots firmly. Orion didn't hesitate. He pressed forward relentlessly, closing the distance and trapping Imanji in close quarters.
Close-Quarter Carnage
In close quarters, Orion's fighting style shone. His elbows struck the ribs, shoulders, and temples in a rapid flurry, forcing Imanji to defend desperately. Imanji swung, kicked, and tried to push Orion back, but each attack was met with counter, block, or a brutal punch that rattled his bones.
> "You can't outfight me," Orion said, gritting his teeth as he landed a spinning backhand to Imanji's jaw.
Imanji's head snapped to the side, blood spattering across his mask. But he wasn't done. He lunged with a feigned low strike, then attempted an uppercut from below. Orion rolled under it, grabbed Imanji's arm, and twisted, slamming him face-first into the hard soil.
THUD! Dust exploded around them.
Imanji rolled, trying to spring to his feet, but Orion followed, slamming a sharp elbow into his back and a knee into his side. Imanji gasped, staggering, barely holding onto consciousness.
Then Turning Point
Orion stood over him, fists clenched, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.
> "You've got skill, Imanji… but skill isn't enough," Orion said coldly.
"You needed timing. Strategy. And you underestimated me."
Imanji's eyes narrowed, blood running down his temple. He tried to lunge again, desperate, but Orion sidestepped, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him to the ground once more.
The impact echoed like a drumbeat through the field. Orion grabbed both of Imanji's arms, twisted them behind his back, and punched him twice consecutively in the ribs, forcing the air out of him.
Imanji groaned, trying to push up, but Orion's next strike landed — a hook to the jaw — snapping his head back.
CRACK!
Imanji fell flat onto the dirt, chest heaving, blood dripping from his lip, mask cracked. His hands tried to rise, weakly, to push Orion away.
Orion didn't give him the space. With controlled, cold precision, he punched him twice more in the stomach and once across the jaw, each strike reverberating through the soil, leaving Imanji gasping, trembling, completely overwhelmed.
Final Blow
Orion took a step back, letting Imanji struggle to his knees. Around them, dust and debris painted the battlefield red.
> "It's over," Orion said quietly.
Imanji tried to rise, eyes blazing with defiance, but his body betrayed him. Orion grinned slightly. He charged — fists swinging — and landed two consecutive, brutal punches.
The first smashed into Imanji's chest, knocking him flat again. The second connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling onto the cracked soil.
Silence fell around them. Fighters from both sides froze, the storm of dust and chaos seeming to pause in awe of Orion's dominance.
Orion straightened, chest rising, fists still clenched.
> "Let anyone else try me," he muttered, eyes scanning the field.
He stepped forward, boots crunching against dirt, over the fallen Imanji, asserting the unspoken law of the battlefield.
Behind him, U-Force rallied silently, the others giving him space and acknowledging his dominance. WS fighters shifted uneasily, realizing the strength of their enemy was not just Zain or Alice — Orion had carved his own path of power.
Orion's gaze swept the battlefield. Blood, dust, bruises, and broken pride lay scattered. But he moved forward. Always forward.
> "I'm not stopping. Not now. Not ever."
And with that, Orion advanced, leaving Imanji defeated, kneeling in the dirt, gasping for air — a reminder to all who doubted U-Force that he was unstoppable.