Not good enough

The first blow caught Noah completely off-guard—not because he hadn't been expecting Lucas to attack, but because of the 'speed'. One moment Lucas was standing casually five meters away, the next his fist was sailing toward Noah's face with freight-train force.

Noah's instincts flared to life automatically, Chi flooding his pathways as he barely twisted away from the strike. Even so, Lucas's knuckles grazed his cheek, the glancing contact enough to snap Noah's head to the side.

'Fast. Too fast.'

Noah stumbled back, raising his guard as Lucas pressed forward with a fluid combination of strikes. Each blow came with precision and power that spoke of thousands of hours of practice. Noah blocked what he could and dodged the rest, feeling the impact of each partially deflected hit reverberate through his Chi-reinforced bones.