The elites’ section of the rooftop fell silent as Ethan and Anton squared off. The air buzzed with anticipation, the city lights casting shadows across their tense faces.
Around them, a circle of finely dressed men and women watched intently, eager to witness the clash between old power and a new contender.
Nikolai Volkov stepped forward, his voice cool and commanding. “This is a battle between Ethan Cole and Anton Petrova. I’ll act as the judge. The rules are simple. The fight ends when one yields or can’t continue.”
“Both of you, take your positions five meters apart.” Nikolai gestured for Ethan and Anton to take their positions five meters apart. As they moved into place, whispers rippled through the crowd.
“Anton will wipe the floor with him.”
“Cole doesn’t stand a chance. He’s all money, no background.”
“I give him thirty seconds, at best.”
Ethan ignored the comments, focusing on his breathing. This wasn’t about proving the crowd wrong but proving something to himself. As he readied himself, a familiar notification appeared in his vision.
=====
[New Mission: Defeat Anton Petrova]
Objective: Win the battle against Anton.
Reward:
1. 5000 EXP
2. 30 Ascension Points
=====
“What a reward…” The promise of the reward spurred Ethan on. If the system offered such rewards, this fight would have been possible.
Nikolai’s voice cut through his thoughts, “On my mark. Ready…”
Ethan got ready, focusing intently on Anton. The heir of the Petrova family adjusted his position, his body tensed, full of pent-up energy. Ethan steadied himself, anticipating a direct beginning.
“Battle!” Nikolai’s hand dropped, signaling the start of the battle.
Anton quickly closed the distance between them, moving with startling speed. He was on Ethan in a heartbeat, his first punch aimed straight at Ethan’s face.
Instinctively, Ethan crossed his arms, catching the blow with a solid block. The impact jolted through his body, forcing him back a step.
Anton, with a mocking tone, said, “Not bad.” He couldn’t help but smile broadly. Everyone here, including him, was convinced that facing Ethan would be a walk in the park for him.
Anton pressed forward with relentless aggression, each punch and kick a hammer blow powered by the raw strength of his family’s signature style, Nezha’s Gambit. The style focused on overwhelming force, and each strike was delivered with the intent to break through defenses.
Ethan’s arms stung with each impact as he deflected and blocked, but he kept his footing. He recognized the rhythm of Anton’s attacks—direct and brutal, with no wasted movement.
Ethan’s lack of real-life battle experience and basic combat skills made it difficult to seize opportunities and attack effectively. However, his incredible attributes enabled him to survive this long.
He was unsure of the right moment to employ his Krav Maga and Close-Quarters Combat techniques against an opponent as skilled as Anton. His previous encounters with Mark and Zidan were less challenging, as they lacked the necessary skills and experience.
Blow after blow rained down on Ethan. He absorbed a strike to his ribs, twisting to lessen the force, then deflected a knee aimed at his midsection with a forearm block. Each time Anton attacked, Ethan was there, his defenses holding.
Anton’s frustration grew, and his attacks became more intense, trying to break Ethan’s guard. “Why don’t you just fall, Cole?” he hissed, driving a kick into Ethan’s side.
Ethan grimaced but held firm. He could feel the strength behind Anton’s strikes, but it wasn’t beyond what he could endure. And through the flurry of attacks, he began to notice something—while Anton was strong, he wasn’t invincible.
Anton’s rapid movements slowed slightly, sweat forming on his brow. His breath came faster, his frustration mounting with each failed attempt to break Ethan’s defense. The gathered elites exchanged uncertain glances—Ethan wasn’t crumbling under Anton’s assault as expected.
From the sidelines, Lena’s sharp gaze tracked every movement. She could see Ethan’s mind working, analyzing Anton’s strikes, adjusting his defense with each new attack. He wasn’t just surviving; he was learning.
Realizing that a purely defensive strategy wouldn’t win the fight, Ethan shifted tactics. He drew on his basic mastery and understanding of Krav Maga, using fluid movements to redirect Anton’s momentum.
A punch aimed at his head slid past as Ethan sidestepped, using his forearm to push Anton’s arm wide.
Next, he attempted to counter with a quick elbow strike, but Anton anticipated the move, slipping back just out of reach. Frustration bubbled beneath Ethan’s calm exterior. He was adapting, but Anton’s speed made landing a clean hit difficult.
Anton smirked, noticing Ethan’s struggle. “You’re not as good as you think, Cole.”
Anton pressed the advantage, his strikes coming faster, but he was sweating now, his breathing more labored. He had expected to overwhelm Ethan quickly, yet he was still struggling.
Around them, the elites watched with growing intrigue. Their earlier certainty in Anton’s easy victory was fading. Ethan wasn’t winning, but he wasn’t losing either.
“He’s holding his ground,” one of the spectators murmured. “Anton should have put him down by now.”
“Cole’s tough, I’ll give him that. But he’s lacking experience.”
As the battle dragged on, Ethan’s mind raced, searching for a way to shift the momentum. He had another ace, a secret weapon he hadn’t yet deployed. But he needed the right moment.
Seeing a brief lull in Anton’s attacks, Ethan grinned. “You’re getting tired, Anton. Didn’t think I’d last this long, did you?”
Anton’s expression twisted with irritation as he stepped back, taking a moment to catch his breath. “You talk a big game for someone who hasn’t landed a single hit.”
Ethan’s smile widened, and he took a calculated risk. “Well, that’s about to change.”
He quickly accessed the system, feeling its interface light up in his mind. He focused on the skills he had been holding back, unlocking the Intermediate and Master tiers for both Krav Maga and Close Quarters Combat.
The rush of knowledge flowed through him as if doors had opened in his mind, revealing deeper layers of each technique.
=====
[Skills Upgraded: Krav Maga – Master, Close Quarters Combat – Master]
[Total Ascension Points Spent: 30]
=====
He felt his body respond instantly to the upgrades—his muscles remembering movements he had never practiced, his mind seeing angles of attack he had previously missed. But Ethan wasn’t done. He needed more versatility, more edge.
He unlocked another skill—Muay Thai—raising it to the Master tier. The knowledge of the fighting style flooded into him, and muscle memory adapted to the new techniques.
=====
[Skill Unlocked: Muay Thai – Master]
[Ascension Points Spent: 17]
=====
With the new upgrades, his body adjusted instantly, and his muscles remembered techniques he had never practiced. He felt a newfound clarity and confidence as he settled back into his stance.
Anton noticed the shift in Ethan’s posture and sneered. “What, got a second wind? Too bad it won’t help.”
He launched another powerful punch, aiming straight for Ethan’s chest. But this time, Ethan was ready. He sidestepped smoothly, using his upgraded Krav Maga skills to guide Anton’s arm past him, throwing the Petrova off balance.
At that moment, Ethan struck. He drove a precise elbow into Anton’s ribs, using Krav Maga’s efficiency to target the weak point. Anton’s breath hitched, surprise flickering across his face.
“Whoa! He managed to hit Anton!”
Ethan followed up with a swift, punishing elbow strike from Muay Thai, catching Anton with a forceful blow across the jaw. The impact snapped Anton’s head to the side, a red mark blooming across his cheek.
The elites watching gasped, their surprise palpable. For the first time, Anton looked truly rattled. He staggered back, his composure cracking as he glared at Ethan.
“You… you little—” he started, but Ethan didn’t give him time to recover.
He launched into a Muay Thai jumping knee strike with a fluid motion. His knee drove into Anton’s chin with a powerful thud, lifting Anton off his feet. The impact force sent Anton crashing to the rooftop floor, landing with a heavy thud that echoed in the silence.
The elites leaned forward, eyes wide with disbelief as Anton lay sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath. Ethan stood over him, his stance steady, chest heaving with exertion but his resolve unbroken.
The murmurs among the crowd grew louder, tinged with respect and surprise. Even Nikolai, certain of Anton’s victory, couldn’t hide his look of shock.
Ethan met Anton’s stunned glare with a calm, steady gaze. “You underestimated me, Anton. That was your mistake.”
Anton’s expression twisted with anger, but he couldn’t hide the exhaustion dragging him down. He tried to push himself up, but his limbs trembled. The power of Nezha’s Gambit had met its match in Ethan’s newfound skill and determination.
The two men locked eyes briefly, the tension crackling like electricity. Ethan knew this was a turning point—a moment that would decide not only the outcome of this battle but also his place among the elites of Novan City.
Anton’s chest heaved, his pride and frustration warring on his face as he struggled to accept the reality before him. But Ethan’s stance remained unyielding, his presence a reminder that he wouldn’t back down, no matter the odds.
The air was thick with anticipation, the crowd holding its collective breath. Everyone waited to see if Anton would rise again—or if Ethan had finally, against all expectations, claimed victory.
At that moment, standing in the center of the circle, Ethan realized something fundamental had shifted. He wasn’t just surviving this fight—he was showing the elites that he belonged on his own terms in their world. And no matter what happened next, he knew he had already taken the first step toward changing the game.
