Whack!
Kain Cole's fist whistled inches from Charles's face, who barely dodged by leaning to the side.
Thud!
Another blow came right after—a hook that grazed his shoulder, followed by an elbow that forced him to stumble back.
'Damn it!' Charles thought, panting.
Kain was fast—stupidly fast—and gave him no room to breathe. Every move was a burst of power and precision, and Charles could barely keep up.
Crack!
Charles blocked a punch with his hands, but the impact made him wince in pain.
'This isn't like Lira,' he thought, sweat streaming down his forehead.
Kain wasn't messing around.
"Pathetic!" Kain growled, his voice thick with contempt as he threw a low kick.
Whoosh!
Charles jumped back, but the edge of Kain's boot clipped his leg, making him trip.
"You can't even hit back, useless!"
Kain stepped forward, eyes blazing with fury. His brown hair was messy, but there was nothing sloppy about his stance.
'Why's he so pissed?' Charles thought, backing toward the fountain.
'It's not just the tunic, is it?'
Charles tried to buy time.
'If I can use the water like before…'
He bolted for the fountain, feeling electricity tingling in his feet again.
'Now!'
Charles spun and kicked the jet hard, sending a spray of droplets at Kain.
Splash!
The water flew, charged with the current he'd learned to channel.
'This has to work,' he thought, a spark of hope flaring.
'What's this idiot doing?' Kain thought, frowning as the water came at him.
With a quick flick of his hand, like swatting a fly, he redirected the entire spray back at Charles.
Swish!
The water reversed mid-air, slamming into Charles's chest, shoulders, and legs.
Charles's eyes widened, expecting the current to surge through him—but… nothing happened.
The electricity didn't touch him.
'Thank God!' he thought, relieved for a split second.
But then…
Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!
The water hardened instantly, freezing into a thick layer that encased his arms, torso, and legs.
"What the hell?!" Charles yelled, struggling to move.
'I can't…!'
The ice was heavy, stiff, and every step felt like dragging a boulder.
'This guy controls water… and can freeze it!' Charles thought, panic creeping in.
Kain smirked at Charles's desperation.
"Some dumb trick," he said, stepping closer. "You think I'd fall for the same stunt you pulled on those losers?"
Though Kain didn't fully grasp what Rian was doing to win fights, he'd noticed a pattern: the guy sprawled on the ground and the two brothers Rian had beaten were all soaked with water.
Thud!
Kain launched a kick straight at Charles's chest, unavoidable this time.
"Ugh…!"
The blow sent Charles reeling, the ice creaking but holding firm.
Thud! Thud!
Kain landed two more kicks—one to the stomach, another to the leg.
Charles groaned, pain exploding through him like never before.
'Damn it, this hurts!' he thought, staggering.
He'd never taken hits this hard—not from Toren Vask's sons, and definitely not from Lira.
Each blow was like a hammer, and the ice killed his usual agility.
'Seriously, I can't even hit back?' Charles thought, frustration burning in his chest.
Rian's reflexes were sharp, quick, but every time he tried to swing, his arm locked up, like the body refused to obey.
'Come on, fight back!' he screamed in his head, but nothing.
Crack!
Kain threw a high kick, aiming for Charles's right arm.
"Aghhh!"
The pain was instant—a sharp snap echoing in his shoulder.
Charles hit the ground, rolling with a groan.
'No, no, no!'
He tried moving his arm, but it wouldn't budge.
'Did he dislocate it?' he thought, panic clawing at his throat.
The ice on his legs made him clumsy, and the pain was blinding, like something had been stabbed into his shoulder.
'Shit, shit!'
Charles writhed on the ground, breathing hard.
Kain crouched in front of him, face inches away.
"No clue what tricks you used to beat those morons," he said softly, "but don't think that makes you special."
Kain's eyes were full of contempt, but also something deeper—a personal kind of rage.
'What the hell did Rian do to this psycho?' Charles thought, confused.
Kain kept talking like it was nothing.
"A powerless loser like you should be grateful for scraps. But you dare wear a fighter's tunic? You're pathetic."
"Kain!"
A voice sliced through the air, loud and clear.
Charles looked up from the ground and saw Lira Cole running toward them.
'Finally!' he thought, though anger still simmered in his chest.
Kain stood instantly, turning with a smile that was almost… sweet.
'What the hell?' Charles thought, blinking. 'Where'd that face come from?'
"Lira!" Kain said, raising a hand in a casual wave. "Right on time."
His tone was light, like he hadn't just beaten someone into the dirt.
Lira forced a tight smile, clearly strained.
"This loser's causing trouble again," Kain said, jerking a thumb at Charles with disdain. "Just 'cause he's picking fights now, he's wearing fighter's clothes. What's his punishment? Lock him up, or… something more creative?"
Kain grinned, waiting for Lira's approval.
Lira took a deep breath, like she was holding back a scream.
"Rian Cole is a fighter," she said, her voice firm but quivering with nerves.
Kain blinked, thrown off.
"What?" he said, leaning toward her. "Say that again, please."
His tone was incredulous, like he thought it was a prank.
Lira, summoning her nerve, met his eyes.
"Rian Cole is a fighter… he's fighting tonight," she repeated. "Rian's got two matches, back-to-back. That's why the schedule changed."
Kain froze for a second, then let out a short, barking laugh.
"You're kidding, right?" he said, shaking his head. "This useless guy? Two fights in a row?"
He laughed harder, the sound echoing across the fountain courtyard.
Charles, still on the ground, gritted his teeth.
'Laugh all you want, asshole,' he thought, wincing with every move from the pain in his shoulder.
Lira looked like she was grasping for words, her face tense.
Kain stopped laughing and put a hand on her shoulder—a gesture that seemed friendly but carried a hint of condescension.
"This your idea, little sis?" he asked, still grinning.
Lira nodded, her expression stiff.
"Yeah," she said quietly.
Kain's smile widened, like he'd just pieced something together.
"You're brilliant!" he exclaimed, clapping her on the back. "Making this loser fight in front of everyone… it's the perfect punishment! When he loses, he won't just lose what little honor he's got left—they'll probably sell him as a slave. We'll never have to see his face again!"
Kain laughed again, clearly thrilled.
"Why didn't I think of that?"
Lira opened her mouth but said nothing.
'What?' Charles thought, staring at her from the ground. 'Is that what she was after all along?'
Rage swelled in his chest.
Kain kept talking, oblivious to Lira's tension.
"It's perfect," he said, nodding. "A nobody like him doesn't belong here. Nice one, Lira."
He waited, like he expected her to back him up.
Lira swallowed hard and nodded slowly.
"Thanks…" she mumbled, barely audible.
Kain pulled her into a quick hug, laughing.
"I'm grabbing a front-row seat tonight!" he crowed. Then he turned to Charles, still sprawled on the ground, and spat in his direction.
Ptooey!
"Good luck, loser," he said with a sarcastic grin.
Kain's boots echoed as he walked off, leaving silence in the fountain courtyard.
Only Charles and Lira remained. She approached slowly, crouching beside him.
"You okay?" she asked softly, though her voice was tight. Her eyes scanned the ice still clinging to parts of his body and the arm hanging limp at his side.
Charles glared at her, fury blazing in his chest.
Crack!
The ice on his leg snapped as he tried to move, but the pain in his shoulder made him groan.
"You happy?" he spat, voice shaking with anger. "This what you wanted? Me trashed before your damn fights? Why didn't you register my name?"