The truth

Chapter 20

Ronan rolled his shoulders, his muscles tensing in anticipation as he got ready for his next fight, he knew this one wouldn't be easy. Across from him, Jordan stood tall, his sharp gaze assessing him, calculating. The others had taken several steps back, their expressions a mix of excitement and unease. No one had ever dared to face Jordan in a one-on-one fight without expecting a brutal beatdown.

Jordan exhaled slowly. "Last chance to back out."

Ronan smirked, shaking his head. "I'm good."

Jordan's lips curved into a smirk of his own. "Alright then. Let's see what you've really got."

The moment Jordan moved, it was like a gunshot at the start of a race. He closed the distance between them in a blink, his fist rocketing toward Ronan's face. But Ronan's body moved on instinct—ducking, twisting, reacting. Jordan's fist sliced through empty air as Ronan slipped to his side, pivoting smoothly. He lashed out with a precise kick aimed at Jordan's ribs, but Jordan blocked it at the last second, his arm absorbing the impact with a sharp grunt.

Jordan didn't hesitate. He retaliated immediately, his fist crashing toward Ronan's jaw. Ronan blocked, but the sheer force sent vibrations up his arm. Before he could counter, Jordan launched another attack—a flurry of rapid, calculated strikes aimed at his core. Ronan dodged, barely managing to deflect some of the blows, but the speed, the sheer pressure—it was suffocating.

He needed to push back.

Ronan shifted his stance, feet planting firmly on the ground. The moment Jordan threw his next punch, Ronan caught his wrist, twisting sharply before slamming an elbow into Jordan's ribs. The impact forced Jordan to stumble back, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. The room fell silent, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating.

Jordan's gaze darkened. "Not bad."

He lunged again, this time feinting left before sweeping low. Ronan barely jumped in time, avoiding a kick that could have taken his legs out from under him. He twisted mid-air, flipping over Jordan and landing smoothly behind him. Without hesitation, he drove a knee toward Jordan's back, but Jordan spun just in time, catching Ronan's leg and slamming him into the ground.

Pain shot up Ronan's spine, but he rolled away before Jordan could capitalize on the moment. He pushed himself to his feet, adrenaline flooding his veins. Jordan was strong—too strong. But Ronan was stronger.

The realization struck him in that moment. The level up quest had done a great deed, he nearly died back there, but that was the only reason he had turned out this strong, if it had been something easier, his improvement wouldn't have been this obvious.

His system pulsed within him, the power itching to be unleashed. If he wanted to, he could end this fight in an instant. But that wasn't the goal here. He couldn't afford to reveal too much. He needed to make this convincing.

Jordan wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow, eyes narrowing. "You're different, Ronan. No one improves this fast. No one moves like that."

Ronan exhaled, steadying himself. "Guess I just work harder."

Jordan's jaw tightened. "Bullshit."

And then he activated his system.

The air around them shifted, thickening like a weighted blanket. Ronan felt it instantly—his limbs dragging, his movements slightly delayed. Time. Jordan had slowed him down.

Jordan blurred out of sight, appearing behind Ronan in an instant. Ronan barely had time to register the movement before a brutal punch crashed into his gut, sending him skidding backward.

Ronan clenched his teeth. So this was Jordan's ability—time control. Not complete stoppage, but enough manipulation to make his opponent significantly slower while he moved at normal speed.

Jordan didn't let up. He was on Ronan again in seconds, delivering punishing blows that Ronan could barely block. Every punch, every kick was precise, calculated, and relentless.

Ronan groaned, forcing himself to move despite the sluggishness that weighed on his limbs. He concentrated—his system flaring to life. His vision sharpened, his body pushing against the temporal drag. He refused to use his other system skills, all he needed to do was evade and attack.

Then he moved.

He sidestepped just as Jordan's next strike came, twisting his body and countering with a devastating uppercut that connected with Jordan's jaw. The force sent Jordan staggering, his ability momentarily flickering. Ronan didn't hesitate. He launched forward, slamming Jordan with a brutal combination of strikes—fist, elbow, knee—each hit landing clean, pushing Jordan to the edge.

Jordan growled, his eyes flashing with something between rage and exhilaration. "You—"

He gritted his teeth, and suddenly, time seemed to snap back. The pressure on Ronan's body vanished, and Jordan leapt back, breathing heavily. He was at his limit. But Ronan knew—if he wanted to, he could finish this fight in the next move.

But he didn't.

Instead, he let Jordan close in again. This time, Ronan allowed himself to take the hit. A punch to the ribs, a kick to the leg—he staggered back, pretending to be overwhelmed. Jordan took the opening, sweeping Ronan's legs out from under him and pinning him to the ground with a knee against his chest.

Victory.

Jordan panted heavily, his grip tightening. But as he stared down at Ronan, something flashed in his eyes—doubt.

His breathing slowed. "You let me win."

Ronan froze. "What?"

Jordan's expression darkened. He grabbed Ronan by the collar, yanking him up and slamming him against the arena wall. "You LET ME WIN!"

The room went silent. The rest of the team shifted uneasily, glancing at each other, unsure whether to intervene.

Ronan stared at Jordan, his heart hammering. He could feel the frustration radiating off him, the anger, the disbelief.

Jordan's hands tightened around his collar. "You should have won. I saw it. I felt it, it's weird how you could get so strong overnight, but why the hell would you let me win!"

Ronan exhaled slowly. "What do you want me to say?"

Jordan's eyes bore into him. "I want the truth. What the hell are you?"