Chapter 15: Bears Play with Their Food

Connor, standing victorious over Zofia's unconscious form, stares down at her, a slight smirk on his face. "What a shame," he mutters under his breath, "I was hoping for a bit more playtime." He kicks the sand beside her, almost bored with the easy victory, when suddenly, the sound of another gate creaking open echoes through the coliseum.

A young boy, no more than thirteen, steps forward. He's lean and wiry, a stark contrast to Connor's massive build, and there's a quiet confidence in the way he carries himself, his dark hair tied back, eyes sharp as he surveys the arena.

Connor chuckles. "This must be easy," he says with a twisted grin. "I'm practically twice the size of him."

The All Mighty raises his voice, introducing the next challenger. "This young warrior is chosen by none other than Sun Wukong, the Monkey King!"

The crowd murmurs with excitement, recognizing the mischievous power associated with Sun Wukong's lineage. The boy's expression doesn't change as he steps forward, locking eyes with Connor. Then, with a sudden burst of speed, he starts running straight at Connor.

Connor braces himself, gearing up for another straightforward clash. But as the boy closes the distance, something strange happens. His form seems to split and scatter, multiplying until six identical versions of the boy are sprinting toward Connor from every direction.

Connor's smirk fades, replaced by a hint of confusion. "What the—?"

The six figures circle around him, weaving in and out of his vision, each of them taunting him with their agility. Connor swings at one, but his fist goes straight through it—it vanishes into thin air. Another one comes up behind him, delivering a sharp kick to his back before darting away, laughing.

Enraged, Connor spins, swinging wildly, but each attempt only meets empty air as the boy's clones continue to taunt him, each one darting close, striking with small but precise hits, and disappearing before Connor can land a single blow.

Connor grits his teeth, his aura darkening further. "Alright, you little pest. You want to play games?" He steadies himself, focusing his energy.

Connor takes a deep breath, closing his eyes amidst the flurry of clones darting around him. His fingers extend, nails sharpening into dark, lethal claws that curve like a bear's. When he opens his eyes again, they've transformed—the whites now pitch-black, a predatory gleam in his gaze.

The crowd watches with bated breath as Connor, eyes half-closed, tilts his head, sniffing the air. The distinct scent of his opponent drifts through the arena, distinct from the ethereal, unscented clones. With each breath, he pinpoints the boy's real location, ignoring the distractions.

He growls low, a primal smirk forming. His eyes snap open, locking onto the real boy hiding among the illusions. "Found you."

Connor lunges forward, his clawed hand slashing through two clones that dissolve instantly. The real boy's eyes widen, realizing his trick has been seen through. Connor closes the gap in seconds, his steps heavy and menacing. The boy attempts to dart away, but Connor is faster now, his reflexes honed by his bear-like transformation. He swipes, grazing the boy's shoulder, tearing his shirt.

The boy stumbles back, clutching his shoulder, eyes narrowing as he assesses Connor. But Connor's smirk only widens, his gaze ferocious. "You thought you could play games with me?" he taunts, lifting his claws in a challenge.

Connor stiffens as he hears a soft voice whispering in his ear, taunting and mocking, like a ghostly presence swirling around him.

"Funny thing about games, Connor..." the boy's voice echoes, disembodied and teasing. "There's always a way to outsmart someone who thinks they're unbeatable."

Connor growls, swiping behind him, but his claws slice only air. The whispers grow louder, moving around him, each word dripping with mockery.

"Where are you?" Connor roars, spinning around, his dark gaze scanning the shadows. "Come out and fight me!"

The boy's laughter rings through the arena, a light, almost playful sound. "Oh, but I am fighting, Connor. Just not the way you'd like."

Connor's breathing grows heavy, his anger sparking dangerously. He slashes the air, clawing in every direction, but each attempt only lands against empty space.

Finally, the boy appears just a few feet in front of him, calm and smirking. "For someone who 'never loses,' you look a little lost," he taunts, arms crossed. The boy's confidence rattles Connor, and he takes a step forward, his grip on control starting to slip as his bear-like instincts urge him to attack with everything he has.

Connor sneers, lowering his stance as he gathers his strength, feeling his rage rising. "We'll see who's lost when I wipe that smirk off your face."

Connor lunges forward, his movements a blur of raw power and speed, fists slashing through the air. The boy weaves around each strike with uncanny agility, ducking and sidestepping, his calm demeanor never faltering. He lands sharp, stinging counters, each one aimed with surgical precision at Connor's exposed spots, chipping away at him bit by bit.

But then, with a frustrated roar, Connor's rage flares like wildfire. Ignoring the pain of each of the boy's strikes, he pushes through the attacks, building unstoppable momentum. With one final burst of power, he leaps into the air, knee aimed straight at the boy.

The boy's eyes widen just as Connor's knee connects, driving into his chest with bone-rattling force. The impact sends the boy sprawling across the arena floor, sliding through the dust as the crowd erupts in gasps and cheers.

Connor lands, chest heaving as he watches the boy struggle to get up. "Not so fast now, are ya?" he growls, a smirk tugging at his lips.

A resounding horn echoes through the arena, silencing the crowd for a heartbeat. The All Mighty raises a hand, giving the thumb's up, signaling the fighters to arm themselves.

Connor's gaze never leaves the boy struggling to rise. With a smirk, he steps forward, and as he does, his armor begins to shimmer and move, adjusting over his body with an almost sentient precision. Plates of dark metal lock into place along his arms, shoulders, and torso, each segment adorned with intricate Celtic runes that pulse faintly. His gauntlets tighten around his wrists, forming sleek, imposing shields that curve up to his elbows. At his waist, the belt cinches perfectly, finishing the transformation with an aura of fearsome, ancient power.

From within his gauntlets, there's a metallic click, and in a swift motion, his signature weapon emerges—retractable claws, sharp as razors, slide out from the palms of the gauntlets, mirroring his own nails. Connor flexes his fingers, watching as the secondary claws gleam with a lethal edge.

The crowd is dead silent, eyes fixed on the imposing figure he's become. Connor cracks his neck, eyes dark and intense. "Ready for round two, lad?" he taunts, voice a growl as he advances on the boy, his armored steps echoing through the hushed arena.

As Connor advances, Feiyu suddenly shouts, defiant and unwavering despite the blood trickling down his face from Connor's brutal knee. "My name is Feiyu! I'm chosen by the Monkey King himself—and I will not lose!"

At his words, a brilliant aura of red and gold begins to envelop him. His armor materializes in a blaze, intricate and fierce, inscribed with ancient Chinese script along his bracelets. The plates hug his body, and his skin shifts to a deep, vibrant red as his transformation unfolds. His hair turns a stark white, wild against his reddened face, which now sports a light layer of fur, giving him the fierce, primal look of his godly patron. His eyes glow with an intense orange flame, and wisps of smoke drift from his mouth with every breath.

With a powerful roar, Feiyu charges, flames erupting behind him as he gains speed, his every step leaving scorched trails in the sand. The air between them grows hot, and the crowd roars in anticipation. Connor braces himself, his claws at the ready, a smirk of excitement breaking through his stoic expression.

Their collision is inevitable, a clash of primal strength against fiery agility, each determined to prove their place among the Chosen.

As they collide, their hands lock in a fierce grip, each pushing against the other with all their might. The power of their clash sends a shockwave rippling through the arena, causing the ground to tremble violently and dust to swirl up around them. The crowd erupts, witnessing a raw display of strength and resilience from both Chosen.

Connor grins, his grip tightening as he leans in close. "I'm impressed. Didn't expect you'd have this much fire in you."

Feiyu's fierce orange eyes flash as he meets Connor's gaze, unwavering. "I was trained by the best."

They push off each other, stumbling back just enough to find their footing. In an instant, they launch forward, trading powerful punches and kicks in a rapid, brutal exchange. Neither gives an inch, both refusing to fall. Every hit lands with enough force to shake the air around them, each strike answered with another in a rhythm of resilience and unyielding will.

The arena echoes with the impact of their strikes, and the crowd leans in, eyes wide, witnessing the intensity and skill of both fighters.

Feiyu's arm ignites in a burst of flame, the fiery glow illuminating his fierce determination as he swings toward Connor. Connor braces, his full armor finally shifting into place. The bear-shaped helmet closes over his head with a satisfying click, the detailed Celtic runes glinting in the firelight as he digs in to absorb the punch. Even with his armor's weight, Feiyu's fiery blow forces Connor back a few inches, the impact reverberating through him.

Connor lets out a low growl, anger igniting within him. His bear claws sharpen, glinting beneath his gauntlets as he steps forward, a dark aura pulsing from him. In one swift motion, he slashes at Feiyu's side, his claws tearing through the armor and connecting with flesh. A deep, brutal gash appears, and blood splatters across the sand, mixing with the dust and flames.

Feiyu staggers, but the fire in his eyes only intensifies as he grits his teeth, refusing to back down.

Connor's chuckle fades, and he looks down at Feiyu with a flicker of something almost like sympathy. "You've got a lot of heart, kiddo," he says softly. "My ma would've liked you. But listen... I don't want to lose, and I really don't want to kill a kid." He pauses, his voice firm but strangely gentle. "You've shown everyone—gods, warriors, all of them—what you're made of. There's no shame in stopping here. Just give up."

But Feiyu, bloodied and bruised, stares up at him, determination burning in his glowing orange eyes.

"I... I can't..." He struggles to breathe, voice shaking but unyielding.

"I won't let you take this victory away from me. You don't get it... I've been nothing before this war. Just a shadow, barely noticed by anyone. The Monkey King, he saw something in me... something no one else ever did. He saw a hero. And if he believes in me, then I have to become the warrior he sees. I have to... for my family, so I can finally make them proud."