Tiger's fist, glowing with a faint, sickly green energy—the stolen hydrokinetic power—slammed toward Leon's chest.
There was no time to dodge this time. Leon's instincts took over, letting the compressed power begging to be released flare out as a raw defensive blast when he crossed his hands at his face.
A dome of brilliant gold light erupted from Leon's body, meeting Tiger's enhanced strike.
The collision was silent for a split second before a thunderclap of concussive force rattled the entire arena barrier, sending debris flying to the ground.
Tiger was thrown back, his arm smoking slightly, while his eyes remained wide with surprise. Leon gasped as he stayed unmoving on his feet. Sweat traced down his temple and fell to his chin, the single burst draining a terrifying amount of his energy.
The world began to tilt in his vision as dizziness struck him. The crowd, which had been baying for his blood, fell silent.
Then, a wave of murmurs stirred around the arena.
"…did he stop a full-power blow from our guy?"
"…he even made him stumble back. HOW?!"
Uncrossing his arms, Leon saw an opening in Tiger's stance. As if it was what he was waiting for, Leon acted without thinking.
He tightened his knuckles, letting the remains of the power that blasted seep into his right fist like fire, and dashed forward like a jet.
Dust, evaporated air, and his messy jet-black hair flared behind him like flames, floating above, almost as if a tornado had struck the arena.
When he reached Tiger's side, Leon pushed his fist forward, slamming it at Tiger's chest.
Though it wasn't enough to seriously injure him, it knocked the wind from him and sent him stumbling back another step, his expensive boots scrambling for purchase on the smooth stone.
Silence struck the arena like a fog, silencing the cheering noise that motivated Tiger.
Tiger's face glittered with murderous rage when he straightened upward. 'How the f…k would a rat strike me this hard,' he whispered in his thoughts while his eyes jolted from the faces of the audience.
…
Leon, on the other hand, stood there panting, while his body trembled from exertion and drain.
Though he had shocked everyone, including himself, the cost incurred seemed to be carved into his shaking arms and the hollow feeling in his chest.
While the two stood there staring at each other, the gong sounded, signaling the end of the round.
Tiger's frown turned into a hellish stare when he saw the shimmering barrier dissolving. He seethed, his chest still smoldering from the impact the rat had laid on him.
Though he wasn't hurt physically, emotionally and socially it would have been better if the boy had died in an instant.
Now, the perfect and effortless victory he'd planned had turned into a humiliation.
When his eyes locked on the rat's own, the air around Tiger's knuckles hardened and circled around his fist like a ring.
Meanwhile, Leon's muscles screamed like a dying cat, his energy reserves scraped down to the dregs as he swayed sideways like a chopped tree waiting to fall.
The audience reacted in an uneasy silence, one no one saw coming. In its place, the hums of the arena's system echoed, piercing through the arena itself and into the ears of Leon and Tiger.
They had come to see a slaughter, a predictable squashing of an insect. Instead, they had witnessed something they didn't understand—something extraordinarily real.
One clarification struck them: the Dusthollow rat hadn't just been stomped. He'd taken Tiger's best psychological warfare and shrugged it off.
He'd absorbed a beating that would have ended the lives of others. And then, with a power that looked nothing like the refined abilities of the elites, Leon had not only defended himself but had actually landed a blow, one that sent the undefeated Kang T backward.
When the audience noise rose again, it wasn't cheers, nor was it insults; it was confusion given form.
"…Did you see the light?"
"…He actually hit him…"
"…What kind of power is that?"
"…He's still standing."
Hearing the words, Leon knew he was no longer a victim but an anomaly.
A medic drone zipped into the arena and offered Leon a bottle of water and a cloth-like material.
"What are these?" he whispered, while he thought of what the things he had been offered might be.
Then he heard a mechanical voice erupt from the drone. "This is a hydration pack. And this is a stim-patch."
Leon extended his trembling hands, accepting the package, but never let his gaze fall off Tiger.
When a second drone flew to Tiger's side, he didn't move or accept the aid; he just stared at Leon with a promise of unimaginable violence flashing in his eyeballs.
Although Leon had lost the round on points when the time-out came and the winner was announced, he had won something no one had ever won against Tiger—surviving.
The moment Leon finished sucking the water from the bottle, his head started to move sideways, while his vision turned blurry.
His body moved him forward, backward, and as he turned to the left side, he collapsed and struck his head hard on the ground.
Footsteps echoed around him as medics rushed to him in haste. The crowd stood on their toes, trying to figure out what had just happened.
And as Leon's vision collapsed into thick blackness, noises surrounded him like a storm of broken glass until he lost consciousness completely.
Before the tiny spark of light vanished, he saw Tiger's burning stare, searing into his memory like his own blood.
…
After long hours that stretched almost into days, a thin light began to draw closer to his darkened vision, followed by muffled voices: a woman weeping; men arguing; and a boy screaming.
"LEON!" A stinging voice screamed a name into his ears so loudly that his eyes cracked open in an instant.
There, white light stabbed his eyes, while the smell of antiseptic burned in his lungs as he gasped for air.
And for a fleeting moment, he thought he was back in the arena, as Tiger's stare streaked across the faces of all those standing beside him.
"Where… am I?" Leon screamed in a loud voice that drew the attention of all those in the far distance from where he was.