Chapter 17

The horn rang, signalling the start of the fight. Jean immediately adopted a defensive stance, his eyes never leaving Number 20. The taller man cracked his knuckles, a smirk playing on his lips as he advanced.

Jean was quick on his feet, dancing around Number 20 with agility, since he was smaller he could only rely on his wits rather than raw strength. He dodged the initial powerful swing from Number 20, ducking under the blow and delivering a swift jab to the ribs. Number 20 grunted but barely flinched, his eyes narrowing as he realized Jean wasn't going to be an easy target.

The crowd erupted in cheers, their excitement palpable. "Go, Jean!" someone shouted, and the support seemed to fuel him. Jean landed a quick combination of punches, targeting Number 20's midsection. Each hit landed with a satisfying thud, but Number 20 retaliated with a brutal hook that Jean barely managed to dodge.

"Shit, that was close." Lucas said on edge.

Amaya did not have the mental capacity to talk, she was scanning the match as with her system trying desperately to keep track of everything.

"You're fast, kid," Number 20 growled, "but you're not strong enough."

Jean grinned; his confidence was evident. He had never lost a fight and he wasn't going to start now. "We'll see about that."

Number 20 lunged forward, his fists a blur as he threw a series of powerful punches. Jean dodged and weaved, his movements fluid shifting just out of range each time. He found openings in Number 20's onslaught, delivering steady strikes to his opponent's ribs and jaw. The sound of fist meeting flesh echoed through the night, each impact drawing gasps and cheers from the crowd.

Jean's strategy was clear: wear Number 20 down with speed and precision. He focused on avoiding the larger man's devastating blows while landing as many punches as possible. Number 20's frustration grew with each missed hit, his swings becoming wilder and less controlled.

"Why is he doing that, he should stop doing that." Amaya said anxiously, if he got his opponent wound up his opponent would become fiercer with less self-control.

"I think he is doing pretty good for a pipsqueak, at least he's not dead." Kenji murmured enjoying the fight. Amaya elbowed him in the stomach forcing him to hunch over in pain.

"I said shut up!" Everything he said just set her on edge and she did not have the patience to deal with him.

Riku snickered but was silenced by Kenji's glare.

The fight intensified, both fighters drenched in sweat and panting heavily. Jean's speed seemed almost supernatural as he ducked under another powerful swing and countered with an uppercut that sent Number 20 staggering backward. The crowd went wild, sensing a shift in the momentum.

"Shit! He's not the last prodigy for nothing! Standing up to Mamuchi is insane!" Riku finally said, carried away by the fight. Even he could not keep up with some of the movements. It was insane to watch, he tried to learn as much as possible.

"Stay on him, Jean!" Lucas shouted; his voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd.

Jean pressed his advantage, launching a relentless assault of punches. He targeted Number 20's weak spots, each hit landed with precision and power, driving Number 20 further back. The larger man's face contorted in pain and rage, his confidence slipping away with each blow.

"Come on, Number 20!" a voice from the crowd jeered. "Don't let a kid beat you!" The crowd laughed mocking him, a grown man being pushed back by a kid in high school.

Number 20's eyes blazed with fury. He roared, launching himself at Jean with renewed aggression. Jean barely had time to react as a powerful punch connected with his shoulder, sending him sprawling to the ground. The crowd gasped, the sudden shift in the fight sending a wave of shock through the spectators.

Jean scrambled to his feet, his shoulder throbbing with pain. He gritted his teeth, refusing to back down. Number 20 advanced, his fists raised and ready to deliver a finishing blow.

"You're tougher than I thought, kid," Number 20 admitted, his voice a low growl. "But this ends now."

Jean's response was an intense fire in his eyes. He dodged Number 20's next swing, the punch grazing his cheek but missing its mark drawing blood. Jean countered with a quick jab to the ribs, followed by a powerful hook to the jaw. The impact sent Number 20 reeling, but he quickly recovered, his eyes burning with rage.

The crowd was on the edge of their seats, the intensity of the fight reaching its peak. Jean and Number 20 exchanged blows, each punch landing with bone-jarring force. Jean's speed began to wane, the relentless pace taking its toll on his stamina.

Number 20 saw his chance and seized it. He delivered a crushing blow to Jean's abdomen, the force of the punch lifting Jean off his feet and sending him crashing to the ground. Jean gasped for breath, the wind knocked out of him. He struggled to get up, but Number 20 was already on him, his foot pressing down on Jean's chest.

"You're finished," Number 20 sneered, his voice filled with triumph.

Jean's eyes blazed with defiance. "Not yet."

Summoning the last of his strength, Jean grabbed Number 20's ankle and twisted, throwing the larger man off balance. Number 20 stumbled, giving Jean the opening he needed. He sprang to his feet and delivered a powerful uppercut that connected with Number 20's chin, sending him crashing to the ground.

The crowd erupted in deafening cheers, the energy electrifying. Jean stood over Number 20, his chest heaving with exertion.

Amaya screamed in happiness, jumping up from her seat. Jean heard her voice through the crowd, turning to her with that cocky grin on his face. She felt so relieved to see him standing. She noticed Number 20 move, his body slowly rising, her eyes filled with fear as she watched Jean's victory slip from his hands.

With a roar of rage, Number 20 sprang up, pulling a small, gleaming object from his pocket. The crowd fell silent, realizing what was happening. Before Jean could react, Number 20 lunged, the Swiss knife flashing in the light.

Jean tried to dodge, but he wasn't quick enough. The blade sliced into his side, and he staggered back, a look of shock and pain on his face. Blood seeped through his sweatshirt, staining the fabric dark red.

The crowd's cheers turned to gasps of horror. Amaya's heart plummeted as she watched Jean clutch his side, his movements slowing. Her mind blanked, she attempted to run straight to jean but was held by Kenji.

"Where the hell do you think you're going!? He has a knife!"

"Let me go!" She screamed, slamming her fists on his hand but he was not letting go.

"Think this through; if you go, then Jean's reputation is lost!" He said desperately trying to hold her back. Amaya turned to Lucas hoping he would do something, but Lucas's expression was grim. He knew how much Jean cherished his reputation, if he interfered now, he would never forgive them.

"Lucas! Stop them!" Amaya begged: Why was everyone just standing and watching him? Why aren't they rushing to help him? He was only sixteen! 

Lucas heard her cries and grit his teeth. "These are the rules, Amaya; we cannot interfere."

Number 20 sneered, standing over Jean. "This is what happens when you mess with me." He licked the blood off his knife menacingly. 

Jean's eyes fluttered, his strength fading. He didn't want to look at Amaya, he knew her eyes would be full of fear right now. 

He fucked up. 

He underestimated how dirty these guys play, in front of all these people, he dared to be this underhanded. He managed a weak smile, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm... not afraid."

Number 20's expression was livid; even after the threat of a knife, this brat refused to back down! "Let's see how long you remain standing!" He barked; gripping the knife tightly and lunged again at Jean.

Amaya's eyes widened, and in the blink of an eye, a gun was retrieved from her inventory, and she shot him. The mother fucker dared to fuck around and found out.