The Powerful X Victor

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Ilumi could faintly see the shadow of Bruce Lee in Kriman's attacks.

"Adaa~!"

Kriman attacked Ilumi again, no longer surprised that his opponent could recognize the martial arts styles he was using—after all, several of his styles had already been identified.

"Hah~!"

He first kicked toward Ilumi's right knee, aiming to destabilize his lower body.

"Bang!"

His kick landed squarely on Ilumi's knee, but Ilumi didn't budge an inch.

"Are your legs made of stone?"

On the other hand, Kriman grimaced in pain, as if he had kicked a solid rock.

"Is your martial art just about imitation?"

Ilumi stared at Kriman with an expressionless face. His initial anticipation had turned into disappointment as Kriman continued to switch between various fighting styles.

"You should focus on breaking my techniques first!"

Gritting his teeth, Kriman abandoned kicking and instead struck with his right hand shaped like a claw, aiming for Ilumi's chin.

Ilumi clenched his left fist and met Kriman's claw with a loud "boom." A sharp "crack" followed as Kriman's finger joints broke.

But Ilumi wasn't done yet. Extending his clenched left fist, he grabbed Kriman's right wrist with a resounding "slap."

Kriman endured the pain and threw a straight punch with his left hand toward Ilumi's chest.

"Thud!"

However, Ilumi caught it effortlessly with his right hand, his fingers locking onto Kriman's wrist. No matter how hard Kriman struggled, he couldn't pull his hand free.

"Ugh… ugh…"

"Let me go!"

Kriman's face twisted in rage as he kicked repeatedly at Ilumi's body—"bang, bang, bang"—but Ilumi remained completely unfazed.

Meanwhile, the pain in Kriman's left wrist intensified. Ilumi's strength was beyond belief, causing him excruciating agony that made his eyes bulge with tears.

"What kind of monstrous strength is this?"

"How can there be a monster of a kid like this?"

Ilumi grew slightly annoyed. No matter how much Kriman kicked or punched his body, his expression didn't change in the slightest.

To him, these attacks were nothing more than tickles compared to Zibonian's punches, which often weighed several tons.

The only reason Ilumi had prolonged the fight this long was to see what Kriman called his "martial arts." That was all.

"Wow~!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, it seems there has been a shocking reversal on the battlefield!"

"Kriman's hands are completely immobilized by Ilumi, and he can't break free."

"No matter how fiercely Kriman kicks Ilumi's body, Ilumi withstands it without effort…"

"In fact, it's almost as if an adult is calmly brushing off the attacks of a three-year-old child."

"Uh… I guess that analogy might not be entirely appropriate here?"

The announcer's enthusiastic voice rang out, voicing the audience's thoughts and clarifying the situation.

"What's going on?"

"Are they still fighting or not?"

"Hey, you two, stop wrestling and start fighting already!"

The spectators shouted impatiently. They wanted to see brutal, bone-crushing action—not fighters standing still on the stage.

"Disappointing. Is this really the culmination of your lifelong martial arts training, gathering the strengths of countless schools?"

"You've trained in martial arts since childhood for decades."

"In the end, you simply lack talent."

Ilumi's face showed clear disappointment. Kriman felt the disdain dripping from Ilumi's words and seethed with anger.

"What do you know!?"

"You brat who knows nothing about martial arts!"

"Someone like you, born with unparalleled talent…"

"How could you possibly understand the hearts of us weaklings striving for strength!?"

Facing Ilumi's disdain, Kriman's face twisted with fury as he roared out his inner frustration.

Tears streamed involuntarily down his cheeks.

"Why does martial arts have to depend on talent!?"

"Why are some people born with the ability to stand above others!?"

Kriman's sudden outburst silenced the entire arena.

Even the announcer fell silent, and the audience focused intently on the screen showing Kriman shedding tears.

Ilumi remained expressionless. He had no words to respond to Kriman's emotional outcry.

He wasn't a weakling, so he couldn't fully empathize with Kriman's perspective—but he could certainly understand the depth of Kriman's feelings.

At this moment, Kriman was enveloped in pink smoke representing envy, light green smoke symbolizing rage, and orange smoke signifying resentment and sorrow.

"Enough. That's all there is to it."

Ilumi spoke softly. It was time to end the match.

Releasing Kriman's wrist with his right hand, Ilumi quickly formed a fist, leaving only his second knuckle protruding. With blinding speed, he struck Kriman's forehead, philtrum, and jaw in rapid succession.

"Boom, boom, boom!!!"

Three thunderous impacts overlapped almost into one. Three indented fingerprints appeared on Kriman's face, blood streaming down.

From start to finish, the technique took only 0.01 seconds.

"Finger Strike·Triple Tap."

Kriman's mouth hung open, unable to utter a sound. His eyes bulged, bloodshot veins spreading across the whites of his eyes.

Suddenly, his eyes rolled back, his body went limp, and he lost consciousness.

"It's bedtime, imitator uncle."

Ilumi released Kriman's right wrist with his left hand, letting Kriman collapse lifelessly onto the ground.

The entire fight had lasted only two minutes and thirty-six seconds.

"The… the victor has been decided!"

The referee rushed over, looking at Kriman's unconscious, bleeding form sprawled on the ground, and immediately declared Ilumi the winner.

As with his previous matches, Ilumi silently turned and walked toward the exit.

"It's… over!!!"

The announcer's passionate voice erupted once more, reigniting the atmosphere in the arena.

"The winner of the 90th floor match is…"

"Ilumi Zoldyck!!!"

"In just two minutes and thirty-six seconds, after a series of intense exchanges…"

"He ended the fight with a dramatic, lightning-fast strike!"

"Ilumi Zoldyck… The Victor!!!"

Spotlights illuminated Ilumi as he calmly walked toward the exit tunnel. The audience in Arena A of the 90th floor erupted in cheers. This battle had ignited their passion.

Even those who had bet against Ilumi and lost couldn't help but rise to their feet and cheer. Losing money on such an incredible fight felt worth it.

"Hohoho…"

Zibonian and Wutong sat in the stands. Zibonian watched Ilumi claim victory effortlessly, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Ilumi-sama is still such a genius."

"Damn it, why won't my tear ducts stop?"

Zibonian wiped away the tears from the corner of his eyes, his face filled with heartfelt admiration.

"That fighter named Kriman truly had bad luck."

Wutong maintained his usual cold demeanor, unsurprised by Ilumi's victory.

"If he hadn't faced Ilumi-sama…"

"With his skills, he could have easily reached the 150th floor."

"With his adaptable fighting style and combat prowess based on Teai-do…"

"Perhaps even the fighters on the 200th floor wouldn't necessarily be able to take him down instantly without using Nen."

"To encounter Ilumi-sama on the 90th floor… poor luck indeed."

A flash of light reflected off Wutong's glasses as he offered his assessment of Kriman, Ilumi's opponent.