The fight raged on, the momentum unbroken. The orc remained the relentless aggressor—his every move more calculated, more attuned to Zane’s rhythm. He wasn’t just strong anymore; he was adapting.
Every exchange honed him sharper. His footwork became more fluid, more instinctive. The once carefully practiced movements evolved into something raw and responsive—born not from training, but survival.
Fighting that battle-hardened, blue-skinned beast was pushing him past his limits—forcing growth at an unnatural pace. Each dodge and sidestep refined his instincts, turning split-second reactions into subconscious reads. And as the orc adapted, so too did Zane.
More importantly, he started to see.
Between the chaos, the noise, the flashing fists and rupturing earth—Zane began to catch the pattern. Tiny moments of imbalance. Openings the orc didn’t realize he was exposing when switching from melee to ranged combat. His transitions weren’t seamless—not yet.
"There..." Zane whispered under his breath, eyes narrowing. "You’re strong... but not perfect."
And Zane would exploit that.
But time was running out.
He could feel it—his speed inching toward its saturation point. He wouldn’t be able to maintain this tempo much longer. The orc, with his monstrous stats and bottomless stamina, would eventually overwhelm him if the fight dragged on.
I have to end this. Soon.
He tightened his fists, his heartbeat syncing with the rhythm of battle. His mind raced through possibilities, calculations and instinct forming a strategy mid-motion.
The cracks in the orc’s rhythm were real.
And Zane intended to break them wide open.
After dodging a fresh volley of homing Fissures, he didn’t retreat. He waited—ready.
The orc came charging in from the right, winding up a powerful hook. It was the moment Zane had been looking for.
But this time, he didn’t blink, didn’t flinch, and didn’t activate his movement skill. Instead, he ducked his head to the left, narrowly avoiding the blow—and launched a counterattack.
His right fist gleamed with a radiant white light as it cut through the air.
"Radiant Strike," he whispered.
The blow connected squarely with the orc’s chin—sharp, clean, and blindingly bright.
He didn’t stop there.
Zane followed up with a flurry of punches, left and right, each one glowing with that same searing brilliance. The glaring light forced the orc to squint and recoil, stumbling backward and sideways to escape the blinding onslaught.
Seven strikes landed flush on the orc’s face. Five more pounded into his broad, armored chest.
Zane’s eyes darted to the health bar floating above the boss:
A hundred points gone... not bad.
The orc growled, disoriented, his footing shaky. His eyes squeezed shut as the radiant light agitated his vision, momentarily disrupting his fierce momentum.
Zane pressed the advantage.
He surged forward, closing the gap, fists blazing. Every move he had learned over the last ten years at the Pre-Academy flowed through him like second nature. Hook, jab, weave—he chained the combos with brutal precision.
Three more punches smashed into the orc’s face. One solid strike connected with his extended tusk—crack!—a clean fracture, blue blood spurting from the beast’s mouth.
The health bar dipped again.
Now’s my chance. I’m breaking those annoying trunks.
Zane channeled more mana into his fists. Radiant light flared brighter than ever as he leapt into the air.
A Superman punch crashed cleanly into the orc’s face.
Without pause, he followed with a sharp uppercut from his left.
One of the orc’s tusks snapped.
The beast let out a guttural, agonized cry as thick blue merlot gushed from his mouth.
He kept hammering the same spot—brutal, precise, and unflinching. Blood splattered. Damage piled on.
But just as he prepared the next strike—snap!—the orc’s hand clamped down on Zane’s right fist.
Damn... it was a feint.
He’d fallen for it—the orc had baited him using the injury.
Zane tried to pull free, but the grip was like steel. The orc had trapped him. Still, Zane didn’t panic. He had trained for scenarios .
A surge of mana erupted from within him. Blinding white light burst outward, forming a radiant dome of protection.
But then—he noticed the flaw.
His right hand... was outside the barrier.
The dome had formed around his body—but not around the orc’s hand still gripping his wrist.
The orc laughed, eyes still tightly shut, blood dripping down his chin.
"Human... you’re a good fighter. You took one of my proud tusks. I’ll give you that. But this—this is your end."
With his free hand, he boxed Zane straight in the barrier.
The dome held. The impact echoed like thunder.
Zane’s eyes darted to the health bar. The orc had taken 25 damage from the blow—reflected by the Sacred Barrier.
But his own mana also dipped—5 points gone with each impact.
So that’s the trade-off, Zane realized. It drains my mana to block... but reflects some damage back. Not bad.
The orc, undeterred, kept pounding. Again. Again.
Zane watched as the health bar ticked down... only to slowly climb back up.
The orc’s passive regeneration was kicking in.
Zane frowned. He’s healing too fast. This isn’t sustainable.
Growing impatient, the orc stopped punching and suddenly lifted Zane off the ground.
And then—he slammed him down like a club.
The Sacred Barrier held, absorbing the impact. No damage.
But Zane bounced, rolling across the rocky terrain like a glowing ball.
Before he could recover—the orc was already there.
A foot slammed into the ground.
Stone spikes erupted, slamming into the barrier once more.
Zane grit his teeth. He triggered Luminous Step, his form flickering with light as he prepared to escape.
The subtitle flashed.
His movement faltered mid-dash. His legs felt like anchors. His body slammed to the ground, pinned under invisible pressure.
Ten times gravity...?!
He couldn’t lift a limb.
The orc walked forward, slowly now, towering over him.
"Let’s see how bright your little dome stays... when the sky itself turns against you."