In a Southpaw stance, the rear hook is a basic yet tremendous strike for any inexperienced Orthodox Fighter, as Isaac was. The power comes from the sharp pivot of the rear heel and twist of the hips.
Zadial's elbow lifted, tight and level with the shoulder, delivering the punch in a tight arc meant to slip around guards and crash into the opponent's temple.
It's a deceptive strike; while most expect the rear hand to throw a straight, the Southpaw's rear hook cuts in at such a lethal angle that it often lands just as the opponent commits to their own attack.
Imagine standing at the receiving end of a bull's charge, not just the horns, but the full weight behind them. Since Isaac was behind Zadial, he planted his right foot with all his might before committing to a bodily rotation that would ensure he fell with his entire body weight if he missed.
And on top of that, there's something fighters develop, something akin to instinct. A predictive impulse. Even the Isaac Wong of Earth had developed this after 6 years' worth of training for the amateurs.
Somatosensory Pattern Memory.
His nervous system becomes a net, catching micro-changes in pressure and balance. The shoulder tenses and his foot twists just a millimeter, perfectly into position. In that moment, one can strike through probabilities of thought. Call it a sixth sense. A spatial thread in the air. He feels where they will be and not where they are.
It seems:
The 'He' in this situation.
Is Zadial Ysarim.
If Isaac still possessed the Topological Anchor Version 1. It would have been certainly evident that his plan from the start was flawed.
An attribute that he could no longer see.
Martial Mastery: Boxing Discipline (as of 29th August 2024): If the user was placed in a duel between a combatant of equal physicality and experience. The user. Will. Win. This Boxer has refined every element of his ability to the absolute limit of their physical capacity. Footwork, timing, spatial judgment, striking, and power transfer operate at peak biomechanical efficiency. |
Over his countless 27 duels, spars, and training sessions in his past.
Zadial had developed Somatosensory Mastery.
It was an aspect of his kit that he himself never realised. It feels first-nature for him. But it existed. For one reason. For this exact moment. If someone does get too close to someone who was too dangerous, he would be prepared.
As an extra precaution that goes beyond the mere reason to win more duels.
A skill to face the lethality of this world.
Not as a Concordant but as a fighter and as a man.
His body deemed Isaac the first lethality he had encountered.
Isaac threw his rear hook earlier than Zadial.
That surely meant that his punch would reach first.
False.
The reason why Isaac didn't possess the attribute | Martial Mastery: Boxing Type | at the end of his story… Was because he fought as if he were in his dead body. Not his new one. And in that mistake, Isaac found out practically.
His new reach was 2 inches shorter than his Original Body.
He had Martial Mastery of his old body.
Not this one.
In summary:
KRRACK
It went straight towards Isaac's temple, heavy as the landslides Zadial mimicked. The world lurched off-axis as Isaac's skull rang. Nausea rose from the gut with both sight and sound fracturing.
His body went completely limp.
Zadial began to fall. And yet, with ruthless fluidity as if this was an actual to-the-death duel, he seized the moment and wedged his forearm beneath Isaac's armpit. His weight shifted in a spin following the momentum of his hook, being amplified by his entire body weight.
Morote Seoi Nage.
Judo's shoulder / back-carry throw.
Boxing may have been Zadial's mastery, but the compulsory martial art that every Earth Resonanced Individual was Gokora, this version of EAA's mix between Judo and Noësis.
Ground rose to meet Isaac, the sound of a gunshot forcing all remaining air out of his lungs with touches of bloody coughs.
"Bleurgh!"
In Isaac's last bit of consciousness.
I've never been shoulder-thrown this hard before… Are we deadass… There was no bloody way I could win even in hand-to-hand combat with someone who has both Boxing AND Judo in his kit.
That fucking hurts my pride, man… Goddamnit.
In the end, getting into close range was Isaac's biggest mistake. The pride he had imbued into his plan to knock out Zadial, formed by his being a close combatant, had clearly blinded him to the unprecedented factor. As a 'Genius', who should have anticipated the worst and adapted appropriately, he had lost.
The salt and acid in the wound?
His first loss as an amateur boxer on Earth was against a Southpaw combatant as well, which ended in the same manner, where he had not accounted for the opponent's longer reach.
A cruel joke of the universe.
Post the loss, Isaac had shed sweat and tears for a future situation that mimicked his loss.
And yet? Outside of Earth, he failed to implement it in this duel against Zadial.
He failed a second time.
For the first loss on equal terms on Agarea was the same first loss on equal terms on Earth.
Whether subconsciously or influenced, Isaac's psychology was altered by his reliance on knowledge of higher realities that formed an auto-implied superiority complex. He began to feel the Sartrean Nausea he had read about.
He was blinded by it.
He was influenced by Noësis.
He had forgotten what he had worked so, so hard for.
"I don't wanna lose to a Southpaw fucker, never again." That was what he said to his coach.
What a simple goal for a proclaimed 'Genius'.
And yet.
What poetic irony.
Silence.
.
.
.
Unfortunately, it starts with sound.
Isaac blinks once as light returns to his eyes. His tongue tastes metal and his head pounds with a pressure that feels like it's trying to crack his skull open from the inside. He tries to breathe, and it hurts. His mouth is dry, and yet a cough emerged, wet and shallow.
Ah shit… I remember now.
That was honourable; I admit my loss…
Isaac grit his teeth. But released the tension.
'I don't… Fuck no… It was unfair as shit.
Oh well~
Nothing I could do against him since he had his fucking Spirits, as if I already didn't need to deal with a Boxer / Judoka who trained in a better society.'
Thats right.
Unfortunately.
The determination and hard work Isaac put in were at the age of 13. He had been uncontested in both intellect and physicality, in debate and in fight, for over 6 years.
No matter how much he read both fiction and non-fiction with ignorant and prideful characters meeting their untimely doom, he was the same. Admit it or not, he had reason to back up his pride.
6 years of being the smartest in class and lectures.
6 years of being the best in the ring.
6 years of uncontested theories and fights.
Isaac's flaw.
Every Genius's flaw.
Narcissism.
And it will surely.
Surely.
Bite him back, onc—
The | Theater |stops ITS play.
The old me would say that…
Isaac returns to his POV; a huff of air stirs the furniture, he closes his eyes, and lies back into the chair. The inverse of the motion occurs as Isaac rises 90 degrees in the waking world.
He drags one hand beneath him and presses his palm against the arena. He had never seen his palm this red before; in fact, it was completely red. Leaving those red handprints on the ground, it takes everything just for him to even move.
An inch, then another.
Before being stopped.
"Isaac!"
Zadial's voice cuts through his haze, crouched beside Isaac, too humanely innocent for someone who just knocked a person out and shattered his sphenoid bone.
"Yo… Yo… Dude… I—I am SO SORRY!" His hands hover near Isaac's shoulders, unsure if touching him would help or make it worse. "Instinct kicked in. I-I didn't mean for that to connect that hard—I-I just… did what I thought would be best in that situation. And the throw after that was b-because I fel一"
Isaac blinks slowly as he responds. His face was contorted, the same expression you'd expect from someone in great pain.
Only… It was not of great pain.
But great annoyance.
"FUCKER! SHUT UP, MAN! Damn! You're noisy as shit! It hurts my head even more, bro… Don't worry about it, dude. We're fuckin' chill, dude."
Zadial's expression was confused.
He had never been insulted for caring about someone.
To him, it was uniquely humorous in a way.
But why was it humorous to Isaac too?
Translucent beads mixed with the red on his face.
I know… I know… If this human body is weaker than the weakest Exobiotic Human, I already saw my loss before I threw the punch. That is the point. A bone-and-muscle punch is the most primal thing I can do, and I do it because it's true to what I AM, with no expectation of winning.
If I did win… Then good on me… But it would disprove everything I had experienced up till now.
But fuck… man… This loss means nothing. I cast aside my ego the moment the second half started… The only detriment I walk away with is Calcium and a bad temper, thrown by a body the world already deemed deceased. Of everything I could have spent my last old-way move on.
I still carry my narcissism. The | Theater | isn't wrong in saying that, but the perspective of that narcissism has changed. The narcissism in the past was to say 'mine is the best way'. Now it says 'mine is the way I'll use to keep moving forward'.
Same thing I always had, pointed somewhere else.
That's fine…
So… Why… W-why do I still cry?
A hand came down into view.
While another in a different worldview pushed his away.
I'd have said no if I were younger.
| 'But you're not me… So go. Take it.' |
Right…
Thus, Let there be Light.
Isaac's fingers closed around Zadial's, and every cracked bone in his body was felt at once. But the thing that hurt most, and was most humorous to himself.
"Pfft—hahaha… haha… sniff… ha… hah… wahhhh…"
Was something that rose in his chest that he took for blood.
No, through blood, through tears, through mud, and through Proof winning over Wonder.
Was the wail and laughter of a child.
Yes, who had finally grown up.