The field was a storm of dust, sweat, and blood.
Every fighter around them had paused, instinctively giving the two kings space. U-Force and WS soldiers were scattered, injured or watching from a distance, knowing better than to interfere.
Zain's body throbbed. His ribs screamed from previous blows, blood dripped from a cut across his cheek, and every muscle was screaming in protest. Yet, his fists remained clenched, his eyes locked on Mahir.
Mahir, by contrast, looked almost untouchable. Blood spattered across his jaw, his coat torn, but his movements were fluid, predatory, precise. Each strike he threw carried the weight of authority, experience, and the sheer inevitability of power.
He stepped forward casually — yet every movement made the soil tremble.
> "You're strong… I'll give you that," Mahir said, voice low, almost amused. "But strength isn't enough."
Zain wiped blood from his lips. He didn't answer. Words were useless here. Only fists, only survival.
---
The Brutal Exchange
Mahir struck first — a fast, twisting right hook aimed for Zain's jaw. Zain barely blocked it, the force sending him staggering back. Before he could recover, Mahir followed with a spinning elbow, cracking against Zain's shoulder.
CRACK!
Zain grunted but retaliated with a low sweep, trying to knock Mahir off balance. Mahir jumped over it, landing with a stomp on Zain's back as he tried to roll away. Pain exploded through Zain's spine, but he twisted, throwing a spiked punch aimed at Mahir's ribs.
Mahir caught the punch mid-air, twisted Zain's wrist painfully, and drove a knee into his stomach.
THUD!
Zain doubled over but shot his elbow backward — catching Mahir's jaw. Mahir staggered briefly but smirked.
> "You'll need more than that."
He surged forward like a freight train, fist after fist, knee after knee, Zain stumbling under the assault.
---
Turning the Tide, Barely
Zain stumbled to his feet, blood dripping, vision blurred. He flexed his fingers — then fists connected with steel, rings on his hands scraping against the dirt from the previous fight. His eyes hardened.
He charged.
Mahir met him mid-field. They collided with a bone-shaking impact, rolling across the dirt, fists clanging, boots stamping. Dust flew around them like smoke from a burning city.
Zain threw a spinning hook to Mahir's ribs, followed by a knee to the side. Mahir caught the knee, lifted Zain slightly, and slammed him into a pile of debris.
BAM!
Zain's body bounced but he rolled off quickly, getting back on his feet. Mahir followed — relentless — every movement predatory, every strike calculated.
Zain blocked one punch, another, then another — but the hits kept coming, raining down like a storm.
He grunted through pain, feeling each blow like it tried to crush not just his body, but his spirit.
---
Mahir's Dominance
Mahir's movements blurred. Each punch precise, ruthless.
A spinning kick caught Zain's shoulder, dislocating it slightly. A brutal uppercut to the jaw sent blood flying.
Zain fell to one knee, chest heaving, sweat and blood dripping onto the hard soil.
> "You can't win this," Mahir said quietly, almost casually, as if stating a fact.
"I… am inevitable."
Zain wiped blood from his mouth, teeth gritted, and slowly rose. His fists flexed. Every part of him screamed for rest, but he wouldn't. Couldn't.
---
The Comeback Sparks
Zain lunged, fists swinging, forcing Mahir to step back slightly.
The first few punches landed — chest, shoulder, ribs. Not enough to stop Mahir, but enough to show he was still here, still dangerous.
Mahir smirked, catching one of Zain's punches mid-air. The force jolted through both arms. Mahir pushed him back — and Zain hit the dirt again.
But something had changed.
The fire in Zain's eyes burned brighter. Pain, fatigue, and broken bones had ignited something inside him. Every punch Mahir threw now met resistance, counter, or redirection.
Zain rolled under a swinging fist, grabbed Mahir's wrist, twisted, and slammed him into the soil. Dust exploded around them.
THUD!
Mahir grunted, barely staggering, and laughed — deep, low, almost predatory.
> "Finally… showing me what you've got."
They clashed again. Fists, elbows, knees, and boots smashing across the hard soil. Every strike sent tremors through the field. Both fighters bleeding, bruised, and battered — yet neither backing down.
---
Ending the Part
The sun was low now, casting long shadows across the battlefield.
Zain and Mahir faced each other, bloodied and broken, both panting heavily.
Mahir's smirk was sharp.
Zain's gaze was unyielding.
> "This is just the beginning," Zain whispered through gritted teeth.
"I won't fall."
Mahir laughed, stepping closer, aura heavy as a mountain.
The world around them seemed to fade — dust, debris, chaos — leaving only two kings, bloodied, fighting for everything.
They charged.
The dirt exploded beneath their boots. Dust rose like a living storm. Fists clenched. Eyes locked.
The next clash would decide the balance of the battlefield.
CRASH!
And the storm continued.
---