Evolution

Fin exhaled as he entered the training grounds, the underground arena buzzing with activity. Jillian had spared no expense in preparing him for the tournament. His opponents weren't just random guildmates—they were some of the best PvP fighters in her guild. If he wanted to stand a chance in the high-stakes battles ahead, he had to prove he could keep up with them.

Jillian leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Alright, Kuma. You've got a week to get this strategy down. If you can't beat at least two of these guys by then, you're not ready."

Fin stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders. His new Poison Fighting Gloves felt light, almost too light. He still wasn't used to fighting without his sword, and the unfamiliarity gnawed at him.

"Who's first?"

A tall, blonde warrior stepped forward, twirling a thin, gleaming rapier between his fingers. His confident smirk was almost infuriating.

"The name's Lance. And you?"

Fin frowned. "Kuma."

Lance's smirk widened. "A Swordsman without a sword? What are you, a battle-monk?"

The other guildmates chuckled, and Jillian grinned. "Shut up and fight."

First Match: Lance the Lightning Fencer

The moment the duel started, Lance lunged forward, his rapier a silver blur. Fin barely had time to react. He twisted his body, dodging the first strike, but a second thrust grazed his shoulder, his HP bar taking a noticeable dip.

"Too slow," Lance taunted, vanishing and reappearing behind Fin in a blink. The speed was ridiculous.

Fin gritted his teeth. His strategy revolved around dodging and poison application, but Lance's rapier was too fast—his movements too unpredictable. If he couldn't keep up, he wouldn't even get a hit in.

Lance lunged again. This time, Fin didn't dodge backward—he stepped into the attack. The rapier grazed his ribs, but he used the opening to deliver a lightning-quick punch to Lance's forearm.

[Poison Applied.]

Lance's HP bar flickered slightly. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

"Oh?" Lance stepped back, flexing his fingers. "So that's your gimmick. You're gonna need more than a single touch to take me down."

He was right. A single application of poison wouldn't be enough. Fin needed multiple strikes. The problem? Closing the distance against a fencer was a nightmare.

Lance blurred forward again. This time, Fin focused on his footwork. Instead of dodging wildly, he began weaving, staying just out of range of the rapier's tip while inching closer.

"Predictable," Lance muttered, switching stances.

Fin barely registered the change before three rapid thrusts came at him in succession. He dodged the first, parried the second with his forearm, and twisted his body to let the third graze past his cheek.

But in that moment, he struck.

His left fist hammered into Lance's wrist, followed by a swift jab to the side of his torso. The poison stacked.

Lance jumped back, glancing at his HP. "Okay, that's annoying."

The fight continued for another five minutes. Fin took several hits, but the more poison he applied, the slower Lance became. Eventually, with a final dodge and a precise strike to his opponent's neck, Lance's HP dipped to zero.

Lance sighed. "Well, that's humiliating."

Jillian smirked. "One down. Next!"

Second Match: Zephyr, the Flame Caster

Fin barely had time to breathe before a small, dark-skinned demon stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. His robes were adorned with glowing crimson runes, and flames licked at his fingertips.

"Name's Zephyr. You got lucky with Lance, but let's see how you handle magic."

The moment the duel started, a blazing fireball hurtled toward Fin. He barely rolled out of the way before another exploded behind him, the heat licking at his back.

This was different. Melee fighters had predictable attack patterns, but mages? They were chaos.

Fin sprinted forward, zigzagging to avoid the barrage of fireballs. Zephyr smirked and raised a hand. A column of flames erupted from the ground. Fin barely leapt aside in time, the searing heat singing his boots.

"Come on, big guy," Zephyr laughed. "You're fast, but you can't dodge forever."

He was right. Fin needed to close the distance before he got roasted alive.

A fireball rocketed toward him. Instead of dodging, he punched forward. His gloved hand met the fireball, dispersing it just enough to take minimal damage. The shock of the move caught Zephyr off guard, giving Fin the opening he needed.

He lunged, fist connecting with Zephyr's chest.

[Poison Applied.]

Zephyr clicked his tongue. "Cute. But one hit won't—"

Fin didn't let him finish. He struck again, then again, forcing Zephyr backward. The mage flailed, trying to create distance, but the poison was already taking effect. His HP ticked down steadily.

In a last-ditch effort, Zephyr gathered mana for a massive firestorm. The moment the spell activated, Fin dashed in and landed a final blow to the demon's temple.

Zephyr collapsed. KO.

Jillian let out a whistle. "Didn't expect you to beat a mage that fast. Not bad."

Zephyr groaned. "That poison is broken."

"Two down," Jillian announced. "Last one."

Third Match: Darius, the Acolyte Tank

Fin wiped sweat from his brow as the last opponent stepped forward. Unlike the others, Darius was a wall of muscle wrapped in shining plate armor, a massive shield on his back. His golden eyes glowed faintly under his hood.

Darius rolled his shoulders. "You rely on poison. I have resistance and regen. Let's see how far that gets you."

The fight started slow. Fin danced around Darius, striking when he could. But every hit barely dented his HP bar. Worse, every few seconds, his regeneration kicked in, undoing most of the poison damage.

"This… isn't working," Fin muttered.

Darius slammed his shield down, releasing a holy shockwave. Fin flipped backward, barely avoiding the impact.

"Figure it out," Jillian called. "Or you're dead."

Fin gritted his teeth. The usual poison strat wouldn't work. He needed critical strikes.

Ducking low, he switched tactics. Instead of random strikes, he aimed for weak points—joints, neck, gaps in armor.

The poison stacked faster. Darius's regeneration slowed. His movements became sluggish.

Fin saw his chance. He darted in and delivered a crushing blow to the acolyte's temple. Darius's HP plummeted. One more strike, and he was down.

KO.

Fin collapsed onto his back, breathing hard.

Jillian smirked. "Took you long enough."

Fin grinned. He thought he was ready.

_____________________

Fin exhaled sharply as he reset his stance, sweat dripping down his forehead.

The underground training grounds had become his second home over the past few nights, each session more grueling than the last. Jillian's handpicked fighters weren't just sparring partners—they were evolving alongside him, analyzing his every move and adapting in real-time.

And it was exhausting.

At first, he had thought he was improving. His dodges became cleaner, his movements more efficient. But after the third day, he realized something terrifying—his opponents were improving too.

Lance, the lightning-fast fencer, had started to bait Fin's dodges, forcing him into vulnerable positions before striking. Zephyr, the flame caster, had developed a new spell rotation specifically designed to deny Fin the space to weave between his attacks. Even Darius, the unshakable tank, had started predicting Fin's patterns, reacting faster to his strikes and shutting down his attempts to whittle away at his health.

The first few nights ended the same way: Fin on his back, gasping for air, his HP bar depleted.

"I thought you were some PvP monster," Zephyr taunted after one particularly humiliating loss, his tail flicking behind him. "All I see is a rat running in circles."

Fin clenched his fists. Was he really cut out for this?

Jillian, who had been watching from the sidelines, crossed her arms. "You hesitated too much, Kuma. If you keep waiting for the perfect dodge, they'll lock you down before you get the chance to retaliate."

"Easier said than done," Fin muttered, pushing himself up.

She smirked. "Then do it."

Lance's Obsession and the Potion Incident

By the fourth day, the intensity had only increased. Fin's fights with Lance had turned into drawn-out duels of patience and reflexes. Every time he dodged a rapier strike, Lance was already winding up his next attack, his movements sharper and more aggressive than before.

Lance's obsession with countering Fin became evident. He started spending extra time analyzing their matches, going over replays with a deep frown. "Your dodges are good," he admitted after their tenth fight that night. "But let's see how you dodge this."

The next round was different. Lance wasn't just attacking—he was herding Fin into a corner. Every dodge felt tighter, every opening smaller.

But Fin was adapting too.

At one point, mid-dodge, he pulled a recovery potion from his inventory and drank it in midair.

Lance's expression twisted into rage. "Are you—ARE YOU DRINKING A POTION DURING OUR FIGHT?!"

Fin landed smoothly, wiping his mouth. "What? Gotta stay hydrated."

Lance's face turned red, and his attacks became more erratic. Predictable.

The next dodge was effortless. The poison stacked faster. Victory came soon after.

Jillian, who had been watching, grinned. "Make them angry, Kuma. That's how you win."

Zephyr, meanwhile, wasn't taking his losses lightly. After every defeat, he disappeared for a few hours, returning only to test new spell sequences against Fin. His fireballs became faster, his AoE spells covered wider areas, and his movement became trickier to anticipate.

Fin found himself barely keeping up.

One night, after a brutal loss where Fin was burnt to a crisp within seconds, he sat on the ground, panting. His poison strategy wasn't holding up. If he couldn't get close, he couldn't win.

Zephyr smirked, tossing a small flame between his fingers. "Admit it. Your little punching strat won't work on real mages. You need range."

Fin exhaled sharply. He wasn't wrong.

That's when the idea struck him.

Instead of dodging fireballs, what if he manipulated their direction?

The next match, Fin baited Zephyr's fireballs, staying just within range and weaving in ways that forced the mage to adjust his aim constantly. The slight delays between spells gave Fin an opening—he wasn't dodging the fireballs, he was making Zephyr miss.

The moment Zephyr overextended, Fin was already in his face. Poison applied.

By the sixth day, only one person remained almost undefeated against Fin—Darius.

Besides their first duel, Fin couldn't crack the code when it comes to him.

The talented tank Darius has evolved his strategy as well.

He was a wall. Poison barely affected him. His holy shockwaves disrupted any close-range engagements. His regeneration meant that even when Fin did land a hit, it barely mattered.

"I can't win this," Fin admitted after losing their tenth straight match. "It's impossible."

Darius simply shook his head. "No fight is impossible. You just haven't found the answer yet."

The next fight, Fin approached differently. Instead of avoiding Darius's attacks, he tested something riskier—interrupting them.

When the next shockwave came, Fin lunged forward and punched Darius's casting arm. The skill fizzled out before it could activate.

Jillian's eyes widened. "You can cancel his skills?"

Darius smirked. "Clever."

It took another full night, but by the seventh day, Fin landed his first win against Darius. Barely.

The Final Night: The Monster Awakens

By the last night of training, something had changed.

Fin wasn't just dodging—he was predicting. He wasn't just landing hits—he was controlling the flow of the fight.

His opponents had all become stronger from facing him. But he was still ahead.

At one point, Zephyr launched a fireball, and Fin dodged before the spell had even left his fingertips.

The guildmates exchanged glances. "He's reading us," Lance muttered. "Before we even move."

Jillian chuckled. "That's called game sense, boys."

The final matches of the night was a two-on-one. Lance and Zephyr against Fin. 

They gave it everything.

And Fin still won.

Next was Lance and Darius against Fin. 

And Fin still won.

The last match was a three-on-one. Lance, Zephyr and Darius against Fin.

The trio finally won, but barely. 

"You fuckin' monster!" Zephyr yelled, exhausted but satisfied that they all gave it their best.

"I would've cried if we lost a 3v1." Said Darius while panting.

The training wasn't just about improving—it was about proving.

By the end of the week, Fin had earned his place among them.

Lance no longer mocked him—instead, he offered a handshake. "I'll get you next time."

Zephyr grumbled, "You better lose at least once in the tournament, or I'll be pissed."

Darius gave him a rare nod. "You're ready. But remember—real fights are deadlier than this."

Jillian watched it all with a satisfied smirk. "Kuma, you're officially terrifying."

Fin rolled his shoulders. He was stronger than before. But was it enough?

He'd find out soon.

Final Thoughts

Fin collapsed onto a bench, his body screaming in protest. His hands trembled from exhaustion. His vision blurred.

He had trained harder than ever before.

And in just a few days, he'd put it all to the test.