Knox panted desperately as he backpedaled, barely deflecting the flurry of Gas' strikes.
'Predictable...?'
He was most certainly a dumbass. Knox would be the first one to admit he didn't think things through most of the time. Selfish? Sure. Simple-minded? Fine. Coward? Why not. He'd been called worse, and most of it was true.
But 'predictable'?
Just the thought made him clench his teeth.
'How am I losing here?' He wondered, dodging a punch at the last second. 'Bardock managed to beat this guy in his awakened form. Are Saiyans truly that overpowered?'
He remembered their manga fight perfectly.
Bardock was on the cusp of losing, Gas holding him up by the neck. Then he just decided he was tired of losing and sent Gas flying with a blast and a melee combo. A last-minute unexplained power up as if the universe itself handed him the win.
'Of course. Fuckin' Saiyan plot armor. Unfair bullshit that just-'
But then his memory of the manga kept going.
Bardock's strikes had been ragged, his body on the verge of giving up. But despite his fatigue, his eyes showed no sign of defeat.
His gaze was still focused.
Gas, confused at how he was suddenly being pushed back, tried to get the Saiyan to explain why he fought so hard. He brought up scenario after scenario to justify Bardock's ferocity.
To explain why he could stay homed in on the battle without letting anything distract him.
Bardock's answer?
"Isn't it obvious by now?" The Saiyan scoffed. "In a life-and-death battle... What sorta idiot would think about anything else besides victory?"
Knox staggered to a stop, Gas rushing him again. His heart pounded in his chest like a war drum. Every instinct screamed to lash out, to keep scrambling for some trick, but...
'…That's it, isn't it?'
He was overthinking this. Feeding Gas all the little tricks and pieces about his fighting style, letting his fear leak into every move. Bardock hadn't wasted time on that. He had focused on winning.
A small laugh bubbled out of Knox's throat as he steadied his stance.
"Goddamn Saiyans," he muttered. "Even just thinking about one is enough to give a man enlightenment."
Gas summoned a Kanabo and swung for his skull.
Knox closed his eyes. For a heartbeat, there was no weapon.
No Gas.
No panic.
Just his breath, pulling in, pushing out. His breathing, and the steady rhythm of the first skill he'd ever honed, the one he had drilled into himself the first day of his arrival.
[Meditation].
"No pain, no fear, just... focus." He whispered. "Like a video game..."
And the boss in front of him needed to be defeated.
He reached up, his movement calm and sure, his mind envisioning his hand enveloped in a newfound power, catching the weapon with effortless, zen-like mastery-
CRACK.
The Kanabo was not caught. It connected to his head with the force of a mountain.
If it weren't for [Pain Suppression], he might've been knocked out.
The world became a spinning, concussive blur. Crashing through the floating rock he'd been standing on; it shattered into a million pieces. He tumbled through the air, violently smashing into every asteroid he came across.
Eventually, he fell onto a rather large rock, skidding to a graceless stop.
"I don't know why I expected more," Gas' voice was far away, hard to hear. "You were just as weak as the rest."
Knox pushed himself up onto his knees, his head ringing. Warm blood trickled from his hairline, matting his hair and dripping onto the rock below. He stared down at the blood pooling below, staring at his own confused reflection.
"I-I thought..." he stammered under his breath. "The skill... it should have..."
He'd been so sure.
Just like all of his previous life-threatening fights. He would realize something, have some sort of epiphany that would crystalize all his hard work for this moment. That was what made fighting so fun. The fact that he was learning in real time and watching himself grow.
But nothing happened.
There was no surge of comprehension; His [Meditation] was still stubbornly, uselessly, at Rank D.
He'd just stood there and let himself get hit.
Gas slowly descended until he was standing on the same rock, his shadow looming over Knox. Slowly, Knox looked up.
The Heeter's expression was blank. "Have you given up?"
Knox just stared up at him, blood still dripping from his chin, his grand revelation lying in pieces around him, as shattered and useless as the rocks he'd crashed through.
'Am I... going to die?'
Something must've changed on his face, because Gas' expression suddenly morphed into pure disdain.
With a speed that belied his size, Gas' hand shot out. Knox flinched, but Gas didn't punch him. Instead, he grasped Knox's hair and yanked up him to his eye level with a sharp jerk.
"Explain yourself," Gas' voice was a low gravelly rumble. "You froze as if something would happen."
Knox gasped, forced to look directly up into Gas's cold eyes as the Heeter ripped off his visor and threw it away.
Gas' eyes widened as he looked into his own.
"...Is that fear?" His voice dropped to a deadly, incredulous whisper. "You can't be serious. Did you think this was all a game?"
The ringing stopped.
'A game.'
And therein lied the problem.
He'd still been treating it like one.
A game of stats, of skills, of unlocking the next rank. He'd lectured Turles about how nonsensical it was to see things through the lens of 'evil'. But wasn't he doing the same thing with a 'game' lens?
Knox told him that in life, nothing truly mattered but power. That in a battle, the only thing that mattered was victory.
But he hadn't lived that truth.
He'd acknowledged the thought, then gone right back to thinking about how to get the most benefits from each skill. About how to go past the skill gap he was stuck at. Or about how to do the most damage while making sure he took less damage in return.
He was still holding back, subconsciously preserving himself, playing by a set of rules that only existed in his head.
The fear and confusion in his eyes evaporated, burned away by a sudden clarity.
A slow, bloody smile spread across Knox's face.
"Thanks," Knox rasped under his breath, standing fully on his own two feet. "For the reality check, that is. I think my head's finally on straight."
Gas's brow furrowed. "What?"
"Nothing," His free hand came up, not in a block or a strike, but to wrap around Gas's thick wrist. His fingers dug in. "Nothing at all."
Then he moved.
A raw, violent gut punch without any telegraphing. And as he moved, the world around him lost its color.
The only thing he could see was the opponent in front of him.
With [Psychokinesis], he mentally shoved his fist forward, augmenting the muscle and Ki already propelling it. At the exact moment of extension, he let out a jet of Ki to blast out his elbow, rocketing his punch forward with piston-like force.
Gas let go of his hair but was unable to escape the attack with Knox holding him in place.
"GAH!" The punch landed with a sound like a gunshot, forcing the Heeter to take a step back.
But the punch also fractured multiple bones in Knox's arm.
He didn't even acknowledge it. He simply kept moving.
Gas tried to counter with a roundhouse kick, but Knox only took a glance to decide it was too fast to dodge. He accepted the shin to his ribs.
There was a sickening crack, but the [Pain Suppression] skill translated it into a simple, cold notification of damage. In that same instant, his own fractured fist, guided by psychokinesis and joint blasts, slammed into Gas's jaw.
It was a brutal, inefficient exchange.
But for the first time, Gas was the one being forced to recalibrate. His Pure Progress could adapt to skill, to style. It couldn't adapt to foolishness.
If there was a move he could dodge with minimal damage? He would. If it took too much energy? He would simply tank the hit and keep it pushing.
"Wha-" Gas tried to speak. He didn't let him.
Knox became a whirlwind of self-destructive force. He used Ki blasts as crude thrusters on his body. He used psychokinesis to violently wrench his own limbs into position even while his bones felt like crushed instant ramen.
He was a marionette with a psychotic puppeteer; each movement designed for maximum impact with zero regard for the damage.
Gas began to land more hits, but each one only make Knox hit back harder. A cut opened on Knox's cheek. A bruise blossomed on Gas's throat.
A bone popped out of his skin. Invisible force pushed it back in and resealed the damage.
Knox's shoulder was dislocated by a brutal counter; he used [Psychokinesis] from the inside to snap it into place and immediately drove that same fist into Gas's gut.
Confusion turned to frustration on Gas's face.
"Enough of this!" Gas yelled, pushing off to fly backward.
"Stop talking."
Knox was on him in an instant, refusing to give an inch. Eyes opened wide, he burst forward with an acceleration of Ki.
Rattled, Gas didn't even put up his guard as he stared with wide eyes.
Knox cocked back his fist, taking advantage of his daze.
He poured every ounce of his being into his fist. His Ki, his [Psychokinesis], his rage, his willpower. The aura around him vanished, then all reappeared, condensed into a tight black-red shell around his arm.
Then it shrunk further, taking up only the space around his fist.
Until it glowed like a dying star.
"Black... Flash."
BOOOOM!
Gas's eyes bulged.
All the air left his body in a silent gasp. The impact made his chest look as if it concaved inward, before reality caught up to him. He didn't just fly back; he was erased from his position, becoming a turquoise streak that shot across the asteroid field and vanished into the heart of the castle with a thunderous crash.
Knox stood panting, his body a symphony of pain signals his mind calmly acknowledged.
Smoke curled off his body. The world slowly regained its color.
"Haah." Knox sighed, letting himself come down from... whatever that was.
Then his system chimed in.
Skill [Striking] Rank increased!
+1 BODY multiplier for increasing from E to D.
[Dou] trait acquired!
You have discovered your martial path; The Way of Movement. By throwing aside restraint and surrendering to ferocity, you find strength beyond your limits. You may now enable Hysterical Strength, temporarily forcing your body to operate at its absolute peak. May induce excess injuries and tunnel vision if not mastered.
Hysterical Strength multiplies the BODY by 1.5x.
"Oh," Knox flexed his hand, a vicious grin cutting through the blood on his face. "I guess I did get a sort of enlightenment."
This was that one thing from History's Strongest Disciple. The uh, Ki type? Or something like that. But the description seemed different from what he remembered.
'Maybe it's my own personal version of it?' He considered. 'I thought Dou was more about a martial artist's anger naturally empowering them and-'
His thoughts were interrupted by an explosion of rock and mortar.
Gas erupted from the debris, floating unevenly. His shirt had been burned off of him, his chest warped around a cratered bruise that sank into his ribs. Each breath was ragged, wet, like his lungs had been squeezed. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, bright against his pale skin.
But his eyes, wide and bloodshot, were locked onto Knox.
'I guess it's unsurprising he's still alive.' Knox considered. 'I called it a Black Flash, but it was really just a super strong punch. Eh, a man can dream.'
"I see what you're doing," Gas spat, his voice ragged but still cold. "You're gambling your life against mine, in hopes that you'll kill me before you die. But look at you." He pointed a trembling finger accusingly at Knox. "You'll soon pass out from the strain, and in that-"
Knox's eyes glowed crimson. A thin, precise beam of Ki shot toward Gas's face.
With a flick of his wrist, Gas deflected the blast, sending it careening harmlessly off into the void of space.
"-moment," Gas finished, his glare intensifying, "I will kill you."
Knox's smirk was bloody.
His body was currently being held together by [Psychokinesis], [Impact Resistance], and an insane amount of [Pain Suppression]. Any normal person would've already passed out by now.
If Gas decided to release his limiters, he'd be done for.
...But why did any of that matter?
"You're right," Knox said, his voice a raw scrape. "I am gambling."
He clenched his fists, ignoring his screaming muscles and shattered bones. "But you say that like there's any other worthwhile choice." He chuckled. "Life itself is a gamble. You wake up every day betting you'll see the next."
His eyes lit, crimson and black taking over his pupils. "So why should I take things slow? Why should I preserve this life, running away when it gets too scary, and training until I can defeat you? I don't want to slowly get stronger. I want to become the strongest in one try."
"To win or to lose," His aura began to flicker with a terrifying, focused intensity. "Everything on the line. If I die here, my body left to freeze in the void without a proper burial... so be it."
The flickering aura solidified, erupting into a crimson-and-black shroud that pulsed with violent energy. The world lost its color once more, his opponent the only thing in existence.
"But in the chance that I succeed? I will continue to fight. I will continue to train."
The crimson-black glow in his eyes swirled even faster, a maelstrom of madness within them.
"And one day, I will grasp omnipotence."
Gas stared, his mind clearly struggling to keep up.
"You... you're insane." He finally breathed out after a long few seconds of staring.
Knox's grin became a razor's edge, wide and terrifying. He looked up, a wicked laugh escaping from his throat.
"EXACTLY!"
The word was a thunderclap, a declaration that shattered any pretense of rationality. In the same instant, Knox's aura surged, exploding outwards in a wave of pure, malign intent.
Gas's face twisted in fury. His body tensed, violet energy flaring as he prepared to rush forward.
Good. Let him come.
"Stop!"
That was not Gas's voice.
But it didn't matter. His focus wouldn't, couldn't, waver. The only thing that existed in his world at the moment was Gas.
But Gas' focus wavered. For just a fraction of a second, his eyes flickered to the distraction.
It was the only opening he needed.
He hadn't just been monologuing. While he spoke, he had been channeling power, pooling it, concentrating it into his eyes. He wasn't insane; That crimson-and-black glow was just the manifestation of his attack.
The moment Gas's eyes left him, Knox struck.
Fwoom.
Twin beams of condensed black and red Ki, thin as needles, lanced from his eyes. They crossed the space between them in an instant, a perfectly aimed strike.
The beams bored straight through Gas' own eyes.
They seared holes in his sockets, cauterizing as they pierced deeper and instantly reached his brain.
For a heartbeat, Gas hung suspended in the void.
Then, like a broken toy, the Heeter plummeted from the sky, his body crashing onto the rocky debris below with a final, sickening thud.
Only then did the violent aura around Knox dissipate.
The color rushed back into the world, the tunnel vision of [Dou] receding. He blinked.
There, on the shattered remains of the landing platform, stood Marzette. Her carapace bore shallow gouges and singe marks, but it was clear that Macki wasn't even close to being her equal.
In one claw, she held Elec by his nape, hoisting him off the ground like a misbehaving pup. In her other, the gleaming tip of her Ki Blade was pressed firmly against his throat.
He glanced at her captive, then down at the lifeless form of Gas.
"Oh."