Tony charged forward like a madman at a buffet, zigzagging as Freccia let arrow after arrow fly. One clipped him—
Smoke burst off his shoulder.
"Ok—shit. You might actually be a problem."
"Of course I am."
Another arrow whistled through the air and landed just an inch from Tony's foot.
"OK—OK—HELL NO! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING MISSING ME LIKE THAT?! I WAS RIGHT THERE!!"
"Miss you? No, no…"
The arrow pulsed, crackled, and suddenly expanded—light shot out and snapped into place.
A glowing energy cage formed around him in a blink.
Tony blinked once.
Looked left. "Ohhh."
Looked right. "Ohhh."
Looked down. "Ohhh."
Looked up. "Ohhhh—shit."
"Wait—wait now hang on! This isn't fair, this is straight-up cheating!"
Freccia wagged a finger. "Ah, ah, ah—remove 'cheat' from the word, replace it with 'win,' and what do you get?"
"Yeah? Hah. Very clever. You want a medal? You want a trophy? Let me out, sparkle boy."
"No."
Freccia shot another arrow—it stuck to the cage. Then he vanished, reappeared to the right—another arrow. Left. Boom. Top. Boom. Behind. Boom. All arrows embedding in the cage like a twisted game of pin-the-blast-on-the-skeleton.
Tony's eyes followed each shot, his head whipping back and forth like a confused cat watching laser dots.
"…Okay, what are you doing? You building Ikea furniture? Am I a lamp now?"
The arrows detonated all at once—BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM—a chain reaction of magic-flavored hellfire. Smoke, sparks, and static wrapped the cage in a dome of chaos.
Silence.
Then coughing.
Tony's voice cut through the haze.
"Okay... First of all: rude. Second—ow. Third—am I glowing? I feel like I'm glowing. Am I radioactive now?"
The cage flickered. His bones, though charred and singed, were somehow still standing.
He dusted off the ash. Flicked a burnt fingertip.
"Also? If that was your big finale, two things. One—I'm still pretty. Two—your aim sucks."
Freccia blinked.
Tony leaned forward, gripping the bars, voice dropping into a low, sinister rasp.
"And if I get out of this cage... you're gonna learn what happens when you piss off someone with nothing to lose and everything to prove."
He smirked, leaned back, cracked his spine—his skull rotated a bit too far before clicking back in place.
Tony's skeletal hand gripped the glowing bars of the cage.
They hissed and sparked—but his fingers turned dark, shifting into twisted, bony tendrils laced with the aura of necromancy. The energy hissed in protest as he peeled the cage open like a banana, tossing the glowing remnants aside like they were made of tissue paper.
Freccia raised a brow. "Necromancy, huh?"
Tony cracked his knuckles.
"Nah. Not anymore." He started walking forward, shoulders rolling loose. "Just hands. And legs. Maybe a headbutt if you really annoy me."
He vanished mid-step—rushing in with pure speed.
Tony went low, twisting his hips and launching a Wing Chun side kick aimed at Freccia's ribs. Freccia barely twisted out of the way, catching Tony's leg mid-air.
"Got you."
Tony didn't flinch. "Nah, I got you."
He snapped his other leg forward, kicking Freccia square in the chest with a savage axe kick before backflipping clean out of his grip and landing with eerie calm.
Freccia slid back, brushing dust off his shoulder.
"Oh. You're dead."
He whipped his bow up and let loose—three arrows at once, magic trailing like comet streaks.
Tony dashed forward, weaving between them. They missed—but exploded behind him with force.
The shockwave hurled Tony forward—a blur of bone and attitude—right into Freccia's grip.
Freccia snatched him by the neck, lifting him slightly off the ground.
"I hope you got a respawn point, skeleton."
Tony's hands snapped up—Wing Chun chain palms slamming into Freccia's chest like piston strikes. One-two-three-four-five—BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM!
The last hit rocked Freccia backward, letting go as the impact sent him stumbling.
Tony landed on all fours, popped back up, brushed off his ribs with flair.
"Ooooh—you felt that. That was minimum effort, too."
Freccia clenched his jaw.
Tony stepped forward slowly now, raising his arms, hands relaxed, elbows in tight. Wing Chun stance.
"Let me teach you the philosophy of pain. See, I don't block arrows. I absorb trauma and turn it into a motivational speech."
He glided forward—a blur of close-range strikes, elbows, slaps, palm thrusts, fast and relentless like a machine. Freccia tried to block, but Tony's arms flowed around his guard, redirecting and hitting from angles he couldn't track.
Every contact echoed with a satisfying crack.
Freccia finally pushed off, creating space—panting.
"You're… seriously annoying."
Tony grinned, spinning his wrist like he was winding up a punch.
"Annoying? Baby, I haven't even started monologuing yet."
Freccia pulled back his bow, eyes narrowing, mana flaring up around his fingers.
But Tony was already there.
Right in front of him.
Freccia's pupils shrank. "Wha—"
Tony's skull was practically touching his nose. "Look, buddy... I'mma just go ahead and finish you off. You're gettin' boring."
Before Freccia could blink—
CRACK!
Tony's head slammed forward in a disgusting headbutt, smashing Freccia's nose into a mist of blood.
Freccia stumbled back—disoriented—but Tony didn't give him an inch. He teleported behind him, grabbed the back of his head, and slammed it into his knee like he was trying to erase a bad memory.
CRACK.
"Oops," Tony muttered, grinning. "Didn't mean to bend your face like a paper plate."
He spun and elbowed Freccia in the mouth, then again, then again—each one sharper, faster, more unhinged.
Freccia tried to fire off an arrow, but Tony smacked the bow out of his hand with a backhand, then kicked him square in the spine, sending him flying into a tree.
He bounced off like a ragdoll.
Tony appeared above him mid-fall. "Can't let you touch the ground yet."
He grabbed Freccia's leg and spun midair, slamming him back down into the dirt so hard the ground cracked.
Then Tony dropped to a crouch beside him, lifted Freccia's limp hand like a referee. "And the winner is—NOT YOU!"
He punched him in the ribs.
Then the stomach.
Then the neck.
Then the same rib again. Just because.
Freccia wheezed, trying to speak.
"Ah ah ah," Tony wagged a skeletal finger. "No backtalk while I'm working."
He stood up and stomped on Freccia's chest, and again, and again—grinning like it was a trampoline.
Then he leaned down close.
"You know what I love about people like you?"
Freccia groaned.
"You're glass dressed like steel. Pretty moves. Fancy tricks. But soon as I get up close…"
Tony slapped him across the face—a full wind-up, open-palmed, no mercy slap.
"Boom. You break."
He dragged Freccia by the collar, whispering, "And I ain't even used my fingers yet."
Tony slammed both palms into Freccia's chest—a full Wing Chun flurry started, hundreds of strikes in seconds, no rhythm, no pause, just chaos.
BA-BA-BA-BA-BA-BA—
Until the dirt shook.
Until Freccia's eyes rolled back.
Until his bow was shattered in two beside him and his breath was just gasps.
And still Tony didn't stop.
Until finally—finally—he stood up, dusted off his palms, and looked down.
Freccia was laid out flat. Twitched once.
Tony shook his head. "Damn. That was supposed to be a warm-up."
He stretched his spine and cracked his neck.
Then casually walked away, muttering, "Should've brought a lunch. That wasn't a fight, that was a massage with violence."
Meanwhile
Olorun backflipped over it, barely dodging as he landed on one foot and leaned out of the next swing, his voice annoyed but playful:
"God damn, chill out! It's like you got abandonment issues with that whip or somethin'!"
Suddenly, from across the battlefield, Tony's voice echoed through the chaos:
"Yo Olorun! I'm done with mine."
Olorun blinked mid-dodge, ducking just in time before the whip singed his dreads.
"That fast?"
Tony strutted across the ground with smoke still rising off his skeleton knuckles, a cocky swagger in every step.
"Yeah. I ain't weak anymore. I'm ready for World 2. Ready for Eleo. If I couldn't handle that bow-boy with the sparkle tricks, I might as well have left the team. I'm done bein' the one who gets carried."
Olorun slowed, his expression briefly sobering. Eyes wide, he glanced toward Tony with a strange mix of pride and surprise.
"...Yeah, you right."
Just then, Kenji, who had been quietly observing, sighed.
With calm precision, he untied his robe and let it drop to his waist—his body carved like stone, V-taper sharp, muscles defined and glinting in the ambient light.
Timmy, perched nearby on a tree stump, practically screamed in awe.
"OH MY GOD, KENJI! YOU'RE SO COOL!"
Kenji, not even looking, just nodded:
"Thanks, Timmy. I've been holding back."
Gatta, arms crossed, scoffed.
"Oh? You were holding back, huh?"
Bruto, leaned against rubble, sneered.
"He's bluffing. No one's that built and still got gears left."
Olorun's grin exploded across his face like a kid seeing fireworks:
"HA! I knew it! I freakin' knew it! This bastard was holdin' back the whole damn time!"
Kenji, deadpan and annoyed:
"Olorun, what the hell are you yelling about?"
Olorun grinned wider, suddenly tugging off his own shirt and tossing it aside—revealing a surprisingly sharp V-tapered build of his own.
"Because I knew you weren't showing your full strength, so I didn't either! You was getting rocked and I thought, 'Well damn, maybe I should just match him!'"
Kenji, glaring:
"That's the stupidest logic I've ever heard."
Olorun, pointing at Mago, chest puffed with mock pride:
"Whatever! Point is, it's time I show you what I really got!"
Tony, arms flailing:
"WAIT, WAIT, WAIT. Yo—Olorun! My whole speech about growth and fightin' for Eleo didn't do nothin'?!"
Olorun tilted his head, giving Tony a shrug.
"Eh… kinda. I mean, it was decent. But also, I might still get my ass beat."
Tony, snapping his fingers like it's good enough:
"I'll take a 'kinda.'"
Timmy, glowing with excitement, sprinted across the field and leapt—landing right on top of Tony's skull like it was a throne.
"TONY DID IT! HE WON! TONY'S SO COOL!"
Tony, hands on his hips, posing like a hero:
"Of course I did, lil' twig! Never doubt your boy!"
Timmy raised his leaf arms like a conductor.
"Hip hip—"
Tony, joining in before Timmy could finish:
"—HYPE! Hip hip—HYPE!"
They both cheered in sync as fire and lightning cracked around them