(Meanwhile, Leo’s POV, The Time Stilled World)
Training-filled days began to pass quickly for Leo as he resumed his relentless push toward the impossible goal of defeating a million opponents back to back.
Yet somewhere near the seven hundred and seventy-five thousandth victory mark, the parameters of his trials changed once again.
The previous restrictions, fighting with bound limbs, blinded by cloth, and being wrapped with balloon targets, had already forced him to evolve his instincts far beyond human reason..... But even that was no longer enough.
He had grown too strong and hence, for the master-tier opponents he now faced to stand at least a fifty percent chance against him, something more severe had to be introduced.
And as a result, a new limiter was added to his battle gear.
A soft cushion cap, harmless in appearance, was strapped over his head, dulling the impact of every strike he made, as his once devastating headbutts, the final weapon he relied on when cornered, were now rendered less effective.
As what had once been a finishing blow was now reduced to nothing more than a dull bump against his opponent’s guard.
It was a small change, yet it stripped him of one of his sharpest edges, as now, the fights turned into drawn-out slugfests where every exchange felt longer, slower, and more exhausting.
With his mobility limited by the binds, his sight sealed beneath the blindfold, and his final weapon muted, every victory became a matter of endurance and precision.
The battles he now fought became tough to the point where even a single mistake meant defeat, while to bring down his opponent, he needed to land ten or fifteen clean blows, each perfectly placed, each carrying his full power, while never allowing a single strike to reach him in return.
—-----------
The air inside the combat chamber felt thick, heavy with the smell of mana residue and steel dust.
Leo stood motionless in the center, his breath calm, his heartbeat steady beneath the layers of restriction.
Then came the metallic hiss of the gate, with the faint shuffle of footsteps following steady and heavy.
Leo felt the air shift, warm and turbulent, and in that tiny change, he sensed everything he needed to know.
His opponent was large and his footsteps were stiff, which meant that he was a power heavy fighter with a muscular build over a flexible one.
’Hmm—’
He mused, and as soon as the countdown reached zero, shifted to battle stance.
*SWOOSH*
A rush of air brushed past his cheek, close enough for him to feel its warmth. The strike carried real intent, and had he been a second slower, it would have met his jaw.
’Faster than the average fighter.’
He assessed, as he leaned back instinctively, letting the attack slice through empty space before springing forward on bound legs.
*Hop*
Because of the binding, he could not step or pivot freely, every motion of his limited to awkward, short hops that demanded perfect balance.
His arms were tied firmly behind his back, his wrists pressing tightly together, while his ankles were locked by reinforced bindings that gave him just enough space to move but not enough to stride. Every breath, every shift of weight had to be deliberate, calculated, and silent.
’No arms, no legs, no vision... and now even my headbutts are useless. Perfect,’ he thought bitterly, adjusting his stance through a faint shuffle. ’Let’s see what’s left to fight with.’
The opponent’s footsteps echoed softly across the chamber floor, heavy and assured, betraying the presence of a seasoned fighter. Each step came closer, measured and confident, followed by a low growl of anticipation.
Then came the next attack.
A sharp gust of air struck from the left. Leo ducked, bending at the knees and lowering his center of gravity as the punch sliced above his head. He hopped sideways, narrowly avoiding a second strike that followed like thunder after lightning.
The blindfold cut away all sight, forcing him to rely on everything else—the faintest sound of shifting fabric, the whisper of air displacement, even the rhythm of the opponent’s breathing.
A low hum filled his mind with a mental map created from sound alone, where he could visualize his enemy’s every movement.
’Too predictable,’ he thought, bending forward just in time to let a roundhouse kick fly past his face.
He retaliated with what little freedom he had. His body twisted, and his knee shot upward, striking into his opponent’s thigh, as the impact made the opponent grunt but not stagger.
A hand lashed out, catching his shoulder, and the next moment, a loud *POP* Sound could be heard as his opponent managed to burst the first balloon.
*POP*
*Drip*
Water began to drip down his side, as he now remained one balloon pop away from losing his streak.
However, instead of letting the pressure affect him, he used the rebound to tilt his weight forward, letting gravity do what his bindings would not, as he sprang upward and forward in a single motion and smashed his cushioned head straight into the man’s chin.
*Thud*
The soft padding muted the blow, but the sheer speed behind it made the opponent stumble back with a strangled growl.
’So it works if I push hard enough,’ Leo thought, breathing raggedly.
However, unfortunately for him, the opponent regained his footing and came at him again, his movements flaring with aggression.
*SWOOSH*
*SWOOSH*
*BLOCK*
Leo shifted his stance, bouncing once to the right and once backward, barely evading a sweeping hook that would have popped his neck balloon, before blocking a low sweep with the sole of his feet, as he waited for the next punch, counting the rhythm of his opponent’s breathing.
Inhale. Exhale.
Then came the swing.
But he moved before it landed, jumping toward the sound instead of away from it, as he twisted his shoulder to meet the punch head-on.
*BAM*
The impact jolted through him, but since the balloon on that end was already popped, he did not suffer additional damage, while his momentum threw the opponent off balance.
*Stagger*
The opponent staggered, and that was the opportunity he needed to end the fight as he spun on his heels and threw his body weight sideways, slamming his shoulder into the man’s abdomen, as he tackled him hard to the ground and pinned him to the floor.
*Thud*
The sound was heavy, final.
The opponent fell, gasping, as he felt a couple ribs inside his chest snap from the force.
"Oh fuck that was close...."
Leo mumbled, as he stood back up, his body trembling from exertion, the bindings cutting deep against his skin as sweat rolled down his neck.
"Winner, Lord Shadow Dragon!"
The referee announced, as Leo lowered his head, breathing heavily.
’Seven hundred seventy-five thousand and two,’ he thought, his lips curving faintly into a tired smile. ’Still standing.’