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"Azure Light Slash!"
"Air-Rending Slash!"
The two metal-type opponents immediately unleashed their psionic skills on Marcus, their saber and sword glowing with destructive energy, looking to secure a quick, overwhelming victory.
"Shattering Fist!"
Marcus's two hands flashed with light as he, in a surprising display of power, released a psionic skill from both fists simultaneously. The price of doing this, he knew, was a thirty percent reduction in each fist's individual power and a doubling of his psionic energy consumption for the single move. His stone-covered fists clashed brutally with the glowing saber and sword, emitting a deafening "CLANG!" Marcus and the two opponents were all pushed back several steps from the sheer force of the impact. The Bedrock Armor on his fists cracked under the strain, and the opponents' psionic blades trembled incessantly from the feedback.
In this one explosive clash, they were evenly matched.
The two opponents looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between them, and then charged towards Marcus in unison. The sword user attacked his upper body, while the saber user slashed low, aiming for his legs. Marcus, forced into a defensive position, could only hastily protect his neck, knowing it was a vital spot. He used both powerful arms to block the sword user's relentless attack, but in doing so, left himself open below. The saber user's slash penetrated his upper leg armor, leaving a deep, bloody gash. Fortunately, he had been strictly and brutally trained by his family since he was young and was more than used to being injured. This bit of pain couldn't even begin to hinder him.
But he hadn't expected their true strategy. Just as he successfully blocked the sword user's attack, with the sword user's own vision now momentarily blocked by their crossed arms, the man feinted and then bypassed Marcus completely, charging directly towards Seraphina.
Marcus's eyes widened in alarm. "Not good!" He immediately wanted to turn and stop the sword user, but the saber user was already back on him, blocking his path with a flurry of slashes. "Get the hell away from me!" Marcus roared, throwing a desperate punch down at the saber user. The opponent's sword technique, while not superbly refined, was clearly the result of long-term, practical experience. Every slash was economical and dangerous, effectively blocking Marcus's powerful fist, and he even managed to occasionally land a couple more shallow cuts on Marcus's arms.
The sword user had already reached Seraphina, slashing down at her with his blade, a cruel grin on his face. However, although Seraphina was a support-type, her combat skills, honed by Mr. Gordon, were not for nothing. With the dual protection of her own Bedrock Armor and her innate Defensive Aura, the sword user found he couldn't gain any immediate advantage over Seraphina. But ultimately, one was a dedicated combat-type, and the other was a support-type. Seraphina was physically weaker and was quickly being forced onto the defensive, unable to hold on for very long against the relentless assault.
Marcus saw this and attacked his opponent like a mad dog, his earlier composure gone, replaced by frantic rage. But he still couldn't get past the saber user's tenacious defense. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, to calm down, his mind replayed the lessons, the techniques, the endless drills he had learned. At that moment, he no longer fixated on just punching. He found a good opportunity and, taking advantage of a momentary opening in his opponent's guard, kicked out with explosive force, slamming his foot into the saber user's chest. Caught completely off guard by this unexpected blow, the saber user was sent flying backward, spitting blood. The force of the blow was so great that some of the crimson spray leaked out from under his mask.
Marcus pressed his advantage, immediately unleashing a full-powered Shattering Fist right on his reeling opponent's face. The saber user's mask shattered on the left side from the impact, revealing a surprisingly smooth, young face. Although it was only half a face, and one couldn't tell who it was, it was still possible to confirm that the opponent was not much older than Ethan, at most around twenty years old. But Marcus didn't care how old his opponent was. Grabbing his advantage, he absolutely wouldn't let go, landing another five or six brutal punches on him until he was beaten unconscious to the ground. Then he immediately rushed towards Seraphina.
He saw that the sword user had already broken through Seraphina's Bedrock Armor and had managed to cut her several times, leaving shallow wounds on her arms. Seeing this scene, Marcus was instantly, completely enraged. "Damn it! Get the hell away from her!" he roared, throwing a powerful punch towards the sword user. The sword user blocked it with his sword but was still knocked back several meters by the sheer, overwhelming force. He saw that his partner had been knocked unconscious and hurriedly shouted, "We concede! We concede the match!"
Marcus, hearing him surrender, was still fuming, his adrenaline pumping, and wanted to go over and beat the man senseless anyway. However, he was held back by a gentle but firm hand from Seraphina.
"Marcus," she said softly, "you…"
"They've already lost," she stated, her voice calm despite her ragged breathing.
"But that guy… he hurt you!"
"From the moment I entered this place, Marcus, I was already prepared for this. No one can guarantee they won't get hurt. Compared to those who die here every day, a small injury like this is already very lucky."
Seeing her so insistent and rational, Marcus could only take a deep breath and let his anger subside.
The referee's voice boomed. "In this match, the Muscle Man and Violet combination is victorious!"
After winning the duo match, each person received a base prize of 50,000 credits, and the betting pool's payout was also very high. Just thirty percent of the total pot amounted to 100,000 credits. Divided between the two of them, each person walked away with 100,000 credits in winnings from that single fight.
Afterwards, the three of them struck while the iron was hot, fighting several more matches over the next few hours. Most of the people here in the lower ranks of The Gauntlet were ordinary psionicists fighting for credits. Naturally, they had no formal training in advanced combat techniques. Their fighting styles were all scrappy, self-taught brawling, so they were no match for the trio's refined skills at all. Within their current rank, it could be said that there was almost no one stronger or more skilled than them. Even if they faced opponents at Rank One, Level Eight or Nine, it wouldn't be too much trouble for them to win. Of course, this was a reality limited to the confines of this provincial city's Gauntlet and did not include the wider world of prodigies and geniuses.
However, when Ethan fought his sixth match of the evening, he finally ran into some real trouble. His opponent's bald head was gleaming brightly under the arena lights. He wore a menacing mask, and his incredibly muscular body even seemed to give off a faint metallic reflection. The opponent was a Rank One, Level Nine Physical-type psionicist, codenamed "Hardman." As the name implied, his ability was physical hardening. This was an Excellent-rank talent. One level above it, Ethan knew, was the legendary Celestial-rank "Steel Transformation." But even at Excellent-rank, the defense it provided was extremely, almost absurdly, strong.
Ethan, as XLR8, found his sharp claws hitting the man as if they were striking a solid steel plate, creating sparks but doing no real damage.
"Hey, uncle," Ethan's modulated voice chirped, "you're pretty tough."
Hardman's voice was a low rumble. "Give up, kid. You can't break my defense at all."
"How will we know if we don't try?" With that, Ethan, as XLR8, extended both his arms, then controlled his body to spin at an incredibly high speed. Instantly, his whole body became like a living electric drill, or rather, a terrifying, flesh-and-bone chainsaw.
Ethan's spinning body attacked relentlessly, the sharp points of his claws and armored limbs screeching against Hardman's skin, and it really looked like he was about to break through the man's formidable defense. Hardman, seeing his opponent's fierce, unorthodox attack, also became a bit anxious and directly used his own psionic skill. "Mighty Fist!"
A talent like his (Excellent-rank) could only enhance his body's passive hardness, with no obvious increase in his raw strength. But this psionic skill made up for that weakness very well, granting him a burst of explosive power. Ethan was currently spinning at high speed, so his vision wasn't perfect. This powerful punch came suddenly, and although he dodged quickly, he was still grazed by it. Luckily, it was just a graze. The force he received wasn't that great; he was just knocked back a dozen or so meters, and his stomach felt a bit sore from the impact.
XLR8's defense is really, really low, he complained wildly in his heart. But there was no helping it. This place was a mixed bag of all sorts of dangerous people; he didn't dare to expose his multiple forms unless absolutely necessary, as it would draw too much unwanted attention. Although he was complaining internally, he still honestly started spinning again, resuming his attack. After all, this was the only way he could think of to break his opponent's seemingly impenetrable defense. Ethan, like a phantom, continuously cut at him for two seconds, then quickly moved away, then spun to another angle to continue cutting. The main area of his attack was still concentrated on the man's broad, hardened back, searching for a weak point.
THROW SOME GEMS