The fight had barely begun when Franky made the first move, ready to land the opening strike. Ace was caught off guard but recovered just in time, tilting his head to avoid the punch as it brushed past him. Using the momentum of the attack, he spun his body and raised his leg in a swift motion. The move surprised Franky, who shielded his face with his arms and managed to block Ace's spinning kick.
The former soldier was unsettled by such a deft maneuver, but quickly regained his composure when he saw Ace assume a combat stance: his right arm close to his face, fist clenched, his left hand slightly extended, feet set apart, knees aligned with his shoulders, and above all, a wide grin stretched across his lips.
Ace was smiling. Usually, his fights ended after only a few exchanges. But this time, he knew it would be different. After all, he was facing a man built like a wardrobe of iron, a former member of the special forces. One didn't need to be a genius to realize this opponent was on another level.
Franky noticed this and smirked back before getting ready to attack. He dropped into a jiu-jitsu stance and charged, aiming for Ace's legs. Ace instantly raised his right knee toward Franky's head, but Franky dodged and went in again. This time, he feinted low, only to unleash an uppercut that shot straight up toward Ace's chin.
Caught off guard, Ace couldn't react in time. The blow lifted him off the ground, and Franky followed up with a right hook to the stomach, sending Ace stumbling backward several steps. Ace doubled over, clutching his abdomen. He lowered his head, spat blood onto the floor, then slowly raised his gaze toward Franky. A manic smile split across his face before he burst out laughing, adrenaline surging through every vein.
He felt alive.
Franky was speechless. A kid capable of taking hits like that… incredible. But his shock quickly turned into excitement. Ace's laughter echoed through the hangar for several moments, then suddenly stopped. His eyes emptied of all emotion, but his insane grin remained.
Before the fight resumed, Ace mirrored Franky and tore off his sweatshirt and t-shirt, revealing his bandages and a dove-shaped pendant. He reset his guard, sending a silent message to his opponent. Franky did the same, ready to charge—yet was startled to find Ace already in front of him, his fist driving straight into his liver.
Franky absorbed the blow but kept his eyes locked on Ace, who was already moving for the next attack. He blocked the low kick, countering with a left hook that landed cleanly and staggered Ace. But the boy immediately lunged back, aiming a right at Franky's face. Franky caught the punch. Instead of pulling away, Ace's grin widened—and he used his head. Literally. A sharp crack rang out across the hangar.
Franky staggered back, head thrown backward. When he raised it again, a long stream of blood trickled from his nose, splattering on the ground. It was broken. His ego flared—he could not accept being injured so seriously by a child.
Rage consumed him, yet his icy composure held. His face hardened into that of a trained killer, nothing like the cocky grin from before. Ace noticed and thought: "Holy shit, this guy really wants to kill me now." The thought only amused him, and his smile stretched even wider.
Franky gripped his nose, another gruesome crack echoing as he reset it to breathe properly. Then he focused on the only thing that mattered: his target.
The two locked eyes for less than a second before charging at each other. Franky struck first, throwing a straight at the face. Ace twisted his torso to dodge, planted a hand on the ground, and whipped his foot toward Franky's head. Franky blocked, countered with a high kick—but Ace had already vanished, vaulting over him using his own momentum. Mid-air, he freed his trapped leg and hammered Franky's chin with the other.
Franky reeled but quickly grabbed Ace's leg. With a roar, he tightened his grip and slammed him down.
BOOM.Ace's back hit the ground hard, blood bursting from his lips.
Breath ragged, Franky released his leg, staggered forward, and straddled him, raining down heavy punches. The first connected. The second was blocked. They locked in a stalemate: one attacking relentlessly, the other barely managing to defend.
Ten long seconds dragged by. Ace's smile stayed plastered across his bloodied face, but something flickered in his eyes—a faint, almost imperceptible glow.
Suddenly, he shoved Franky off with a surge of strength. The ex-soldier, stunned by this burst of power, couldn't dodge the right hand that slammed into his jaw.
CRACK.His head snapped back.
Ace didn't stop. He slipped past a counter, planted his foot on Franky's thigh, grabbed his shoulders, and vaulted upward. For a split second, he was upside down, perched above his opponent—then his knee came crashing down.
BAM.The strike crushed Franky's face, sending him sprawling to the ground. Ace landed on top of him, just as Franky had been moments earlier.
And he unleashed blow after blow on the already unconscious man. Blood sprayed, teeth scattered across the dirt. Until, finally, Ace realized Franky could no longer fight back.
His grin twitched. Then faded. Along with the glow in his eyes.
Slowly, he stood. All around the arena, the crowd roared—shouting, laughing, chanting his name. Some wept, perhaps those who had lost their bets. Ace picked up his clothes, gave one last look at Franky's broken body. His face was unrecognizable, swollen, shattered, his teeth littering the ground.
Ace studied him in silence for a few seconds.Then turned his back.
And walked out of the arena.The same smile on his lips as when he had first entered.