The Final Move

Yoru exhaled sharply, his breath heavy but controlled. His body, though visibly battered, still held an overwhelming presence. The intensity in his eyes hadn't waned, if anything, it had sharpened. He adjusted his stance, his muscles coiled like a predator on the verge of striking.

The audience was silent, completely absorbed by the battle unfolding before them.

Niran, standing a few feet away, studied his opponent with a calculating gaze. Something was different. Yoru wasn't just reacting on instinct anymore, his movements had become impossibly refined, his reactions almost unnatural.

"What the hell is going on with Yoru?" Sakchai muttered from the sidelines, arms crossed as he analyzed the fight.

Niran's breathing steadied, his mind racing through possibilities. He had fought countless opponents, each with their own strengths and weaknesses, but Yoru was unlike anything he had encountered before.

Then, in a brief moment of clarity, it clicked.

"He's using the parasite," Sakchai murmured, his expression darkening. "That mutated worm inside him, it's enhancing his nervous system, shortening the delay between thought and action. It's bypassing his natural limitations, making him react before his brain even fully processes what's happening. He's functioning at a level beyond human perception."

Niran clenched his fists. If that was true, then Yoru's advantage was biological, not just skill-based. His body had been optimized for battle through something unnatural.

And that meant conventional tactics wouldn't work.

Yoru dashed forward, his movements blurring. Niran barely managed to evade the first strike, the force of the punch brushing past his ribs like a bullet. Too fast. Too precise.

Niran tried countering, but Yoru was already moving, weaving through his attacks like a phantom. His body adjusted mid-motion, twisting and contorting in ways that shouldn't have been possible for a human.

"Tch…" Niran gritted his teeth. "This is getting annoying."

Yoru didn't reply, he didn't need to. His body was speaking for him, each movement a declaration of his overwhelming control over the fight.

Niran had to slow him down.

He inhaled deeply. There was only one way to turn the tide.

At this point Niran had an idea. Use phantom limb to engage the clinch and try to hit the parasite.

With a sudden burst of speed, Niran stepped into Yoru's range, closing the distance in an instant. His arm shot forward.

Phantom Limb activated.

His fingers wrapped around Yoru's shoulders, locking him into a clinch before he could react.

For the first time in the fight, Yoru's body tensed in alarm.

"You're not getting away this time," Niran muttered, tightening his grip.

And then, without hesitation, he launched his most devastating weapon.

His elbow shot forward, piercing through Yoru's defense like a spear. The rotational force of his strike drilled into his opponent's skull with terrifying precision.

Thud.

A second elbow.

A third.

Each strike landed in rapid succession, all targeting the same spot. Niran wasn't just aiming to damage Yoru, he was striking where the parasite could be.

Yoru's body trembled, his eyes flickering with desperation. Blood dripped from his temple, but his muscles still refused to surrender.

With a guttural growl, he lunged forward, using the last of his strength to break free from Niran's clinch. His arm swung wildly, an attack born from sheer instinct.

But Niran had already anticipated it.

Weaving to the side, he redirected Yoru's momentum with a sharp twist, forcing him off balance.

"Just fall already."

With one final burst of power, Niran drove his elbow forward, Drilling Fang sinking deep into its mark.

The audience gasped, watching the brutal display of precision and power.

Yoru's body jerked violently, his movements growing sluggish. His once-flawless reactions dulled with each impact, his balance beginning to falter.

And then.

CRACK.

The final blow landed, and Yoru's body collapsed.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Niran exhaled, stepping back as he observed his fallen opponent.

It was over.

The referee moved in, checking Yoru's condition before raising a hand to signal the end of the match.

The crowd erupted, some cheering, others murmuring in disbelief. Phantom Limb. A technique that had seemed supernatural, yet devastatingly effective.

Even Sakchai, who had witnessed countless fights, couldn't hide the faint smirk on his face.

But Niran wasn't celebrating.

Something felt wrong.

A chill ran down his spine, and his gaze drifted toward the edge of the arena.

There. In the shadows.

A figure.

Familiar.

Watching.

Niran's muscles tensed. His instincts screamed at him.

This was not over.

Without hesitation, he stepped away from Yoru's unconscious body and followed the shadow into the unknown.