I Hate This Earl (Last Part)

Matthew barely had time to react before Ren was on him.

[Move!]

He twisted to the side, just barely dodging Ren's fist as it came crashing down where his head had been moments ago. The ground cracked slightly from the sheer force behind the strike.

Matthew didn't stop moving. He ducked, weaving to the side as Ren swung again, narrowly avoiding the blow. His mind raced—every instinct screaming at him to stay on his feet.

He had chosen Ren for a reason. He remembered Ren's injury—a brutal axe wound to the shoulder just a few months ago. It might have healed, but injuries like that never truly heal.

But even knowing that, Matthew wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this up. If Ren landed another clean hit, he wasn't sure he'd get back up.

The crowd roared as Ren chased him down, throwing brutal punches and kicks, each one narrowly missing.

[Good. Keep moving.] Elliott's voice was steady now. [He's stronger, but he's not used to fighting someone like you. Keep frustrating him.]

He's almost as fast as me. The realization hit Matthew like a punch to the gut. How is that even possible? He's two heads taller and built like a damn ox. How the hell is he this fast?

He kept dodging, barely managing to stay ahead of Ren's relentless attacks. But he could feel it—his movements were getting slower, his breathing heavier.

Then, the inevitable happened.

Ren's fist crashed into Matthew's face.

Pain exploded through his skull, his vision flickering. He stumbled, but before he could recover, another punch slammed into his stomach, forcing the air from his lungs.

Another strike—his face again. Then another. And another.

His knees buckled. His body tilted forward.

Before he could hit the ground, a powerful hand clamped around his throat.

Matthew gasped, instinctively grabbing at Ren's wrist, but the grip was like iron.

"I'm not done yet, slave," Ren growled, his voice dripping with contempt.

Matthew clawed at Ren's wrist, his lungs burning as he struggled for air. His feet barely touched the ground, his body dangling like a rag doll in the warrior's grip.

[Stay calm.] Elliott's voice cut through the panic. [You still have a chance. Don't waste it.]

Matthew tried to focus, but his vision blurred at the edges. The pressure on his throat was unbearable.

Ren smirked, tightening his grip. "Not so tough now, huh?"

The crowd murmured, some laughing, others watching in silence.

Ace took a half-step forward, his fists clenched. Eric shot him a warning glance, silently telling him to stay put.

Matthew's mind raced. He had to do something—anything.

Think!

Then it hit him.

With the last bit of strength he had, Matthew lifted his legs and slammed his feet into Ren's stomach.

Ren grunted, his grip loosening just enough. Matthew didn't waste the opportunity—he twisted his body, using Ren's own strength against him, and managed to slip free.

He hit the ground hard, coughing violently, sucking in ragged breaths.

[Good. But that won't count as a clean hit.] Elliott's voice came again, urgent. [Now don't give him time to recover. Move!]

Matthew forced himself to his feet, ignoring the pain screaming through his body.

Ren, still holding his abdomen, turned toward him, amusement flickering in his eyes.

"Not bad," Ren admitted, cracking his neck. Then his smirk widened.

"But now, I'm done playing."

He lunged.

What Ren didn't expect was for Matthew to attack at the same time—a high kick aimed straight at his head. Ren blocked it with ease, but Matthew didn't hesitate. He followed up with a leg sweep, only for Ren to lift his foot, dodging effortlessly.

Undeterred, Matthew kept going, unleashing a relentless barrage of high and low kicks, using his legs as his main weapon. Every strike, every movement, was a distant echo of something he once tried and failed at.

He remembered Mark—his only friend in high school back in his old life—desperately trying to teach him how to fight, how to defend himself. But back then, Matthew had been too slow, too heavy, too out of shape to make it work.

But now?

Now, in this body, Matthew felt like he could do anything.

…Except breathe properly for now. That part was still a struggle.

Still, he pressed forward, targeting Ren's left side—the one with the old injury. He had no idea how bad it still was, but if there was even a chance it could slow Ren down, Matthew would take it.

[What the fuck are you doing? You wanna die?] Elliott's voice rang in his head, but Matthew ignored it.

The crowd erupted in shouts, their voices blending into a chaotic roar.

"C'MON, REN! HE'S JUST A SLAVE!"

Ren stood his ground, barely moving as he parried each strike. But Matthew kept pressing forward, forcing him back. Step by step, they neared the wall, the crowd shifting to make room.

Then, just as Matthew swung another kick, Ren caught his leg.

Matthew reacted instantly, twisting his body and swinging his other foot toward Ren's face.

Ren dodged.

Matthew hit the ground hard, rolling back to his feet. Gritting his teeth, he lunged again, driving his knee toward Ren's stomach.

Ren shoved the knee aside and, in a flash, grabbed Matthew by the throat with one hand. Before Matthew could react, Ren slammed him against the wall, pinning him there.

Ren leaned in close, his breath hot against Matthew's face.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" he hissed.

Matthew gritted his teeth, fighting through the pressure on his throat.

"The slave that beat you, asshole!" he rasped.

Before Ren could react, Matthew clasped his hands together and swung them down hard onto Ren's elbow, forcing his grip to loosen. Without hesitation, Matthew grabbed Ren's shoulders and smashed his forehead into his face.

A sickening crack echoed as Ren's nose burst, blood spilling instantly.

Before Ren could recover, Matthew slid under his arm, slipping free.

Both of them were bloody now—Ren's nose was broken, and the only thing on Matthew that wasn't broken was his nose. Yet neither stepped back. They locked eyes, their bodies aching but unwilling to surrender. The crowd roared around them, voices blurring into a single, deafening noise.

Then, at the same time, they stepped forward.

An axe flew between them.

Both froze, their shock mirroring each other as their heads snapped toward the source.

The Earl now stood between them, towering, his expression unreadable.

"Sadly, that was it," he said.

[YOU WON. YOU ACTUALLY WON! HOW DID YOU DO THAT?] Elliott's voice rang in Matthew's head, almost in disbelief.

But Matthew wasn't looking at Ren. He wasn't even looking at the Earl. His gaze had fallen on where the axe had landed—buried deep in another person.

An innocent person.

And no one was moving to help them.

Without thinking, Matthew stepped toward the body.

He didn't get far.

Ace grabbed him, spinning him around and shoving him back before wrapping him in a tight hug.

"You won," Ace said, his voice filled with something between pride and relief. "You actually won."

But Matthew wasn't celebrating.

His eyes remained fixed on the lifeless body, lying there as if they were nothing.

And no one even bothered to check. 

Matthew's breath came in short, sharp bursts. The warmth of Ace's embrace did nothing to ground him. His body ached, his vision blurred—not only from exhaustion, but from something heavier.

The body lay still. The blood pooled beneath it, seeping into the cracks of the wooden floor.

No one moved. No one cared.

Ren wiped the blood from his broken nose, looking more annoyed than injured. The Earl stood unmoved, as if the life just taken meant nothing.

Matthew clenched his fists.

[Ace is right. You won. Don't do anything stupid now.] Elliott's voice was calm, but there was an edge to it.

The Earl turned to Eric. "I'll admit, your slave put on quite the show," he said, his tone casual. "But a deal is a deal."

Eric didn't respond immediately. His hands were balled at his sides, his face unreadable.

Then he nodded once. "A deal is a deal."

Matthew barely heard them. His heart pounded, his gaze still locked on the body.

Ace's grip on him tightened. "Don't," he whispered.

Matthew gritted his teeth.

Ren rolled his shoulders, already bored. "This was a waste of time," he muttered, then turned on his heel. His eyes landed on Marie, and something dark flickered in them before he smirked. "Come."

She didn't move.

"Marie," the Earl said, his voice sharp.

She flinched.

Then, without looking back, she followed Ren.

The hall slowly emptied, the crowd losing interest now that the fight was over. The laughter faded into murmurs and footsteps.

But Matthew stayed still.

His chest burned.

His fists shook.

Eric stepped beside him. "We're leaving."

Matthew didn't move.

[Listen to him.]

A moment passed.

Then another.

Finally, Matthew forced his feet to turn away.

This wasn't over.

[Second Quest Completed.]

[Stats Window Activated]