The warehouse was silent.
Not peaceful.
Heavy.
The kind of silence that presses against your ears until you start hearing your own pulse.
Netherlands lay cold beyond the cracked concrete walls. The docks were empty. Fog rolled in from the sea, swallowing the skeletal remains of abandoned cranes and rusted cargo containers.
Inside, Tudor sat in darkness.
Elbow on knee.
Head resting in palm.
Expression bored beyond reason.
Four days.
Four.
His throne — a grotesque thing welded from scrap metal and shattered beams — creaked beneath him as he shifted.
His fingers tapped against his cheek.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Then he exhaled.
Slow.
Tired.
He closed his eyes.
Just for a second.
And when they opened—
He grinned.
Wide.
Too wide.
It split his face into something unnatural.
"It took you long enough."
His voice rolled through the warehouse like distant thunder.
"At a point I thought you didn't want to die anymore."
From the darkness ahead—
Footsteps.
Measured.
Unhurried.
Confident.
Like someone walking into their own house.
A silhouette stepped into the dim light spilling from the broken ceiling.
"Like hell I'm going to die, you loud mouth."
The voice was sharp. Rough. Familiar.
"The last thing I'd ever do is die by your dumb hands."
Adrian stepped fully into view.
Casual jacket.
Jeans.
Hands in pockets.
Eyes cold.
Deadly calm.
Tudor's grin widened.
"You're right," he said slowly.
"That will be the last thing you do."
There was a split second.
A flicker.
Adrian realized.
His own words had been turned.
His jaw tightened.
"I'm going to kill you, you old bastard."
The air shifted.
Tudor's smile vanished instantly.
No theatrics.
No laughter.
Just… blank.
Weren't there supposed to be three of you?
His gaze swept the shadows.
"Where are the others?"
"I'm enough to shove you six feet down."
Silence.
Then—
Tudor stood.
And the ground creaked beneath him.
He wasn't just tall.
He was colossal.
Broad shoulders like carved stone. Presence like a collapsing building. He walked forward and stopped inches from Adrian.
Adrian suddenly looked small.
Like a man standing before a mountain.
"I hate overconfident asses," Tudor said quietly, voice dropping low.
"Who think they are enough to entertain me."
He turned his back.
Dismissive.
"I don't have time for this. Go and call your friends."
He waved lazily without looking.
That's when something snapped.
Adrian's pupils shrank.
And in that instant—
A memory flashed.
Jake.
Smiling.
Winning.
Standing taller.
"I hate you…"
He whispered.
"I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you…"
His voice grew erratic.
Like someone unraveling.
"I hate people who cast shadows on others… attention loving jerks… even when you're not here… you're still casting a shadow on me…"
His teeth clenched so hard his jaw trembled.
"I swear I'll kill you…"
He lifted his head.
Eyes no longer calm.
They burned.
"I hate you. And what I hate even more than you attention lovers…"
His killing intent exploded outward.
The temperature in the warehouse dropped.
The air thickened.
It felt hard to breathe.
Tudor stopped mid-step.
A chill crawled down his spine.
He slowly looked back.
The space around Adrian had warped.
The air shimmered like heat waves off asphalt.
His eyes…
They weren't just angry.
They were abyssal.
"Are their stupid fans."
"Huh?"
Tudor rotated his torso to get a better look—
But Adrian was gone.
Time slowed.
Tudor's eyes widened.
His instincts screamed.
Behind him—
A presence.
He turned—
Adrian was hovering in midair.
Suspended.
Silent.
Right fist pulled back.
The air around it twisting violently.
Like gravity itself was compressing into that single point.
The fist began to move.
Slowly.
Painfully slowly.
Tudor's pupils shrank.
For the first time—
There was no smile.
No arrogance.
Only realization.
Time snapped back.
SKRIFT—
BOOOOOOM!!!!
The sound wasn't a punch.
It was a detonation.
The warehouse imploded outward as if a bomb had gone off inside Tudor's skull.
The shockwave ripped the roof apart.
Concrete shattered.
Steel beams bent like rubber.
Tudor's body launched backward at a speed the human eye couldn't track.
He tore through the back wall—
Through the dockyard—
Through the first abandoned skyscraper—
Then the second—
Then the third.
Each impact erupted into clouds of debris and screaming metal.
Glass vaporized midair.
Entire floors collapsed in cascading avalanches.
The skyline shook.
The fog split apart from the pressure wave.
A thunderclap echoed across the coast of the Netherlands.
Birds exploded into the sky miles away.
Adrian landed lightly where Tudor once stood.
The ground beneath him cratered from the recoil alone.
He exhaled.
Slow.
His fist smoked faintly.
In the distance—
Three skyscrapers leaned.
Groaned.
And then collapsed into ruin.
Far beyond the rubble—
In the heart of shattered concrete—
A figure stirred.
A low sound echoed.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Laughter.
Deep.
Growing.
And filled with absolute delight.
Back at the crater—
Adrian's expression didn't change.
But a single bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
The fight…
Had just begun.
Ohhh.
You want brutality.
You want impact.
Let's continue.
The dust swirled where Tudor had landed.
Concrete chunks rolled down broken slabs. Twisted steel groaned as it shifted.
Adrian walked forward.
Not rushed.
Not hesitant.
Each step steady.
Through the thinning smoke—
A silhouette stood.
Broad.
Unmoving.
The smoke cleared.
Tudor was smiling.
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
He wiped it with his thumb.
Looked at it.
Grinned wider.
"On second thought… you'll be a good way to pass time."
Adrian didn't respond.
He kept walking.
Slow.
Cold.
Tudor inhaled deeply, chest expanding.
"COME AT ME BO—"
BOOOOOOM!!!!!
Adrian vanished mid-step.
The ground detonated where he had stood.
He appeared in front of Tudor and drove a punch straight for his face.
The impact cracked the air like artillery.
Shockwaves tore outward in rings—
—but the smoke cleared to reveal—
Tudor's hand wrapped around Adrian's fist.
Stopped.
Dead.
Veins bulging in his forearm.
Didn't budge an inch.
"Didn't your parents teach you…" Tudor tilted his head slightly.
"Not to interrupt the elderly?"
Adrian's eyes sharpened.
Tudor squeezed.
CRACK.
Adrian twisted his arm instantly, slipping the grip before the bones could shatter, ducked low—
Tudor's counter punch carved through the space where Adrian's head had been.
The air exploded.
A shockwave ripped the ocean behind them into a wall of water.
Adrian slid across broken concrete, boots scraping, heart hammering.
That would've ended it.
He inhaled sharply.
Any clean hit from him… and I'm done.
Tudor rolled his shoulder lazily.
"You're fast."
He stepped forward.
The ground cratered beneath each step.
"But speed's only impressive if you can finish the job."
Adrian lunged again.
This time he didn't commit fully.
Left feint—
Right jab—
Knee—
Spin—
Every strike aimed at pressure points, joints, throat, ribs.
Each one detonated on contact.
Each one hit.
And Tudor didn't block.
Didn't dodge.
He took them.
Head snapping sideways.
Body shifting slightly.
Skin splitting.
Blood spraying.
And he laughed.
He LAUGHED.
"YES!"
He threw a hook—
Adrian barely leaned back—
The punch passed inches from his nose and erased the skyline behind him.
A cargo ship in the harbor split in half from the displaced air pressure alone.
Adrian darted in again.
Two strikes to the ribs—
An elbow to the jaw—
Palm to the sternum—
Tudor staggered half a step.
Then grabbed Adrian by the jacket collar.
Adrian's eyes widened—
Too late.
Tudor slammed him face-first into the ground.
BOOM.
The earth cratered.
Before Adrian could rebound—
Tudor dragged his face across concrete.
Steel.
Broken glass.
Sparks erupted in a violent trail as Adrian's body carved through the dockyard floor.
Adrian twisted, planted his palms, kicked upward—
His heel smashed into Tudor's chin.
CRACK.
Tudor's head snapped back.
Adrian flipped free midair—
But Tudor grabbed his ankle.
Spun.
And hurled him.
Adrian tore through a warehouse, burst out the other side, and skidded across the ocean surface before flipping and landing back onto shattered ground.
He coughed.
Blood hit the concrete.
Don't get hit clean.
Don't get hit clean.
Don't get hit clean.
Tudor blurred.
Adrian barely reacted in time.
Their fists collided midair.
The shockwave flattened everything within a hundred meters.
They disappeared.
To the naked eye—gone.
Only explosions marked their path.
They collided midair—
Fist to fist—
Forearm to forearm—
Shoulder checks—
Knees—
Elbows—
No techniques now.
No strategy.
Just hands.
Raw.
Violent.
Visceral.
Adrian ducked a straight and countered with three rapid strikes to Tudor's ribs.
Tudor answered with a knee that Adrian twisted around, using Tudor's own momentum to sling him into a tower crane.
The crane folded in half.
Tudor burst out of the wreckage laughing like a madman.
"YES! THAT'S IT!"
He rushed forward—
Adrian weaved left—
Right—
Slipped inside—
Uppercut—
Hook—
Backfist—
Each strike cracking bone, tearing skin.
Tudor's head rocked with each hit—
But his grin only widened.
His eyes were glowing with thrill.
He grabbed Adrian's shoulder—
Adrian dropped his weight instantly—
The grip missed.
Adrian pivoted—
Drove a palm into Tudor's liver.
A shockwave rippled outward.
Tudor coughed—
Then headbutted Adrian.
CRACK.
The sound was sickening.
Adrian's vision went white.
His ears rang.
He staggered back.
Too slow.
Tudor appeared in front of him—
Adrian barely twisted—
The punch grazed his ribs.
Just grazed.
Pain exploded through his body.
It felt like being hit by a collapsing building.
He flew, bounced across debris, rolled, forced himself upright.
Tudor cracked his neck.
"You're fragile."
Adrian wiped blood from his nose.
"I don't need to be durable."
He dashed again.
They collided.
Forehead to forehead.
Punches traded at point blank.
Blow for blow.
Adrian's fists moved faster.
Sharper.
Precise.
Tudor's were heavier.
Each one a death sentence.
Adrian slipped one—
Two—
Three—
But the fourth brushed his shoulder—
His entire arm went numb instantly.
If that landed clean… I'd be unconscious.
He pivoted on instinct.
Drove rapid body shots—
Twenty.
Thirty.
Forty.
Each one detonating like explosives.
Tudor absorbed them.
Face twisted in pleasure.
Blood running down his temple.
"You're alive," Tudor breathed.
"You're really alive."
He slammed his forehead into Adrian's.
Both of them staggered back.
Breathing heavy now.
Sweat.
Blood.
Steam rising from their bodies in the cold night air.
Then they charged again.
No words.
Just fists.
The sound of bone meeting bone echoed across the coast.
Buildings crumbled from stray shockwaves.
The ocean churned violently.
Adrian ducked, slipped, countered.
Tudor grabbed, threw, chased, overwhelmed.
Adrian's knuckles split open.
Tudor's cheekbone cracked.
Adrian's lip tore.
Tudor's ribs bruised dark beneath his skin.
But Tudor was laughing.
Every second.
Mid-punch.
Mid-impact.
Even while blood sprayed from his mouth.
This was everything he wanted.
Meanwhile—
Adrian's thoughts burned cold.
I can't overpower him.
I can't tank him.
I have to carve him down.
Piece by piece.
He darted behind Tudor—
Rapid strikes to the spine—
Back of the knee—
Side of the neck—
Tudor staggered—
But spun blindly—
His fist caught Adrian's side.
This time it wasn't a graze.
It connected.
Adrian's body folded.
Air vanished from his lungs.
He was launched across the dockyard, skidding violently before crashing through concrete pillars.
He forced himself up.
Breathing ragged.
Vision blurred.
Tudor stood in the distance.
Laughing.
Arms wide.
"COME ON!"
The night sky trembled above them.
And Adrian stepped forward again.
Because backing down?
Was worse than dying.
Adrian's boots scraped against broken concrete as he forced himself upright.
For a second—
He stood.
Then—
Everything hit him.
All at once.
The pain.
Not dull.
Not gradual.
It crashed into him like a tidal wave.
His ribs screamed.
His spine burned.
His organs felt shaken loose inside him.
His vision trembled—
His knees buckled.
He dropped to one knee.
And vomited blood onto the shattered dock.
It splattered dark against gray stone.
Steam rose from it.
Narrator
Adrian's ability—
Multiplier.
He can increase any single stat.
Infinitely.
Strength.
Speed.
Durability.
Stamina.
Anything.
But.
There is a limit.
Not to the numbers.
To his body.
If his physical frame can withstand a strength stat of 500—
And he pushes it to 1000—
His bones will shatter.
His muscles will tear apart.
His veins will rupture.
Instantly.
He wouldn't even need to throw a punch.
His own body would collapse under the pressure.
Because power—
Is still bound by flesh.
However.
He possesses something rarer.
A trump card.
All Out.
For a short duration—
He can instantly amplify all his stats to the absolute maximum his body can safely contain.
No gradual build.
No scaling.
Just—
Full release.
But he has never gone beyond ten minutes.
And when the time ends—
His body shuts down.
Completely.
Muscles lock.
Nervous system crashes.
Consciousness fades.
A weapon with a timer.
A blade that cuts both ways.
Back to the battlefield.
Adrian's fingers trembled as they pressed against the ground.
His breathing was ragged.
His heartbeat uneven.
Across from him—
Tudor approached.
Slow.
Unhurried.
Like a predator inspecting wounded prey.
Each step heavy enough to crack the pavement.
He stopped in front of Adrian.
Then squatted.
Rested one elbow on his knee.
Face level with him.
Up close—
Tudor looked monstrous.
Blood streaked across his cheek.
A bruise forming along his jaw.
Eyes gleaming with excitement.
"Get up, kid."
His voice wasn't mocking.
It was eager.
"We're just getting started."
Adrian glared up at him through blood-streaked lashes.
Tudor tilted his head.
"You're strong."
He grinned.
"Not strong enough."
He leaned closer.
"I can feel it. You're holding something back."
Adrian's fingers tightened against the rubble.
Veins bulged along his arms.
Tudor's smile widened.
"There it is."
He stood.
Gave Adrian space.
Spread his arms.
"Show me."
The wind shifted.
The ocean roared against the docks.
Adrian forced himself to his feet.
His body protested violently.
His ribs felt cracked.
His shoulder barely responding.
His internal bleeding worsening.
If this continues—
He dies.
Not from one punch.
From attrition.
Tudor rolled his neck.
"Come on."
Adrian's breathing slowed.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
His mind went quiet.
If I don't end this soon… I'm finished.
He wiped blood from his mouth.
Looked up at Tudor.
And for the first time—
There was no frustration in his eyes.
No jealousy.
No anger.
Just calculation.
Tudor's grin sharpened.
"Yes…"
He could feel it.
The air changed.
Pressure thickened.
The broken glass around Adrian's boots began to tremble.
The ground beneath him cracked.
Not from impact—
From output.
Veins across Adrian's arms darkened.
His heartbeat thundered like war drums.
Inside—
His stats were rising.
Not recklessly.
Not infinitely.
But climbing.
Approaching the limit.
His limit.
Muscle fibers tightened.
Bones reinforced under stress.
His breathing became steam.
The air itself warped slightly around him.
Tudor's eyes widened—not in fear.
In delight.
"THAT'S IT."
Adrian lifted his head fully now.
Blood ran down his chin.
But his posture had changed.
He wasn't hunched anymore.
He wasn't staggering.
He stood straight.
Stable.
Dangerous.
Tudor cracked his knuckles.
"Finally."
Adrian's voice came out low.
Cold.
"If I use this…"
The ground split further beneath his feet.
"…I'm ending this before ten minutes."
Tudor laughed.
A deep, thunderous sound.
"GOOD."
He stepped forward.
And the night itself seemed to brace for what was coming next.