Giuseppe leaned back in his seat, towel draped loosely over his shoulders, feeling utterly content. The blood on his fists had barely dried, and yet he was already itching for more.
However, Mavena's next words would solidify her as his favourite teacher.
"And now for the last. Marcus Vathen! Giuseppe Castellano! Step forward!"
Giuseppe's grin returned—slowly, and far too wide to be called human. It curled up his cheeks like a crescent moon.
***
The two step into the arena, the simulation core churning as the surrounding transform.
Flames erupted from broken buildings as the arena shifted into a crumbling cityscape. Charred rubble littered the cracked streets. Smoke bled into the sky, and the distant sound of collapsing towers echoed like thunder.
Civilians screamed and scattered, fleeing from invisible threats.
A slow, deep church bell tolled in the distance solemnly.
The scent of ash hung in the air.
The stage was set.
Marcus stepped forward steadily as he selected his weapon—a massive broadsword, dense and double-edged. The air shimmered around his hand as the weapon slowly materialised, line by glowing line, until its full weight settled into his grip
Giuseppe, as always, remained barehanded.
He rolled his shoulders with a slow, deliberate stretch, joints cracking like distant firecrackers. Then he raised an arm and gave Marcus a lazy, taunting motion—come on.
Marcus exhaled calmly, grounding his poised stance.
His stance was precise, knightly—right foot planted ahead, sword extended in front of him in a measured line. His left hand hovered near his midsection— open and steady, ready to parry or redirect. Every inch of his posture screamed discipline.
Giuseppe lowered into his own stance with effortless confidence.
His body turned slightly to the side, legs spaced wide and grounded like a mountain, knees bent just enough to spring forward or pivot back. His left hand extended in front of him, fingers splayed like a claw. His right arm curled near his waist, fist clenched. Hard.
His predatory black gaze locked onto Marcus's cold, golden pupils.
Mavena's eyes flicked between them, and once she saw that the two were ready.
She raised her hand, then dropped it like a judge passing a sentence.
"Begin!"
Giuseppe exploded forward like a bullet, the ground cracking beneath his feet as he closed the distance in a blink. His eyes locked onto Marcus's outstretched sword arm, aiming to seize it and break his guard in one brutal motion.
But Marcus was already in motion.
With practised precision, he shifted his weight and back-stepped just in time. Giuseppe's claw-like hand grazed the air.
Undeterred, Giuseppe pivoted on his heel and spun into a wide roundhouse kick, his leg arcing like a whip toward Marcus's head.
Marcus raised his sword in time, bracing the flat of the blade against the side of his face. The impact landed with a heavy thud, the sheer force driving Marcus back several paces. His boots scraped across the cracked pavement, leaving twin trails of scorched stone beneath him.
He steadied himself, eyes narrowing. Giuseppe straightened up, that wild grin never leaving his face.
A panicked civilian NPC stumbled into the fray, eyes wide with simulated terror as they unknowingly crossed into the path of Giuseppe's charge.
He didn't even blink.
Giuseppe ploughed straight through the bystander without hesitation, his fists already a blur. The unfortunate NPC shattered like glass under the momentum, fragments of code and light scattering into the air like digital gore.
Marcus barely had time to react as the first punch came screaming toward him, then the second, then the third—each blow carrying the weight of a tiger.
'It still doesn't make any damn sense.'
Marcus gritted his teeth, parrying another wild blow that nearly cracked his blade.
'It's ridiculous to think this asshole hadn't trained a day in his life before a year ago,'
Another fist tore through the air, grazing his shoulder and sending a shock down his arm.
'He doesn't have any technique whatsoever. I am stronger than him, I am faster than him, and I am much more durable than him.'
Marcus barely deflected a kick to his midsection.
'So how the hell is he always keeping up with me?!'
And yet, Marcus found himself straining just to keep up.
It wasn't Giuseppe's speed that made him dangerous—it was his unpredictability. Every move felt like a gamble with loaded dice. What looked like a punch to the gut might, in the blink of an eye, morph into a spinning kick aimed at Marcus's head.
They weren't even feints in the traditional sense. Giuseppe wasn't trying to mislead—he simply didn't know what he was going to do next.
Because his body didn't wait for thought.
He'd begin a strike with genuine intent—only for his instincts to hijack the motion, recalibrating in real-time, launching a completely different attack before his brain could catch up.
It was like fighting a storm that hadn't decided where to land.
To the untrained eyes of the students, besides a certain few, the fight was a blur—two streaks of motion tearing through the wreckage of the burning city simulation. The clash of force and fury echoed through the air, but the combatants themselves were little more than shadows dancing between collapsing buildings and screaming NPCS.
To a trained eye, the battle might seem evenly matched.
But to an expert of Mavena's calibre, one could easily see who has the upper hand.
'Castellano is a bad match-up for Vathen. That family's battle arts are certainly refined, but rather rigid and unequipped to deal with an animal in human skin like Castellano,' She thought, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
'It is clear to see that he hasn't studied any traditional martial arts. His fighting style is purely self-invented through observation and the little spars that fucking coward allowed,' Mavena studied the exchange, grumbling in annoyance at the actions of the previous combat instructor.
'In terms of raw strength, speed and endurance, Vathen is visibly superior. But when it comes to instinct, battle awareness and sheer ferocity. Castellano has him beat by a rather large margin.'
'However, Vathen's greatest strength is clearly his stamina, which is why he can keep up with Castellano's superior fighting ability.' Mavena concluded, twirling her longsword leisurely.
With a sharp kick to the gut, Marcus sent Giuseppe skidding backwards across the cracked pavement. The brief respite gave him just enough time to reset his stance and catch his breath.
Marcus exhaled sharply, his glare cold, "My turn now, you son of a bitch."
Giuseppe straightened, casually brushing dust from his shoulder with a smirk that could provoke even the pope.
"Speed it up then, you bitch of a son."
The tension crackled between them, like neither could wait to break the other's jaw.
Marcus lunged forward with a roar, his broadsword cleaving down in a brutal overhead arc.
But Giuseppe was already in motion, sliding low to the side, narrowly avoiding the strike. His hand snatched up a fallen 'STOP' sign from the rubble, twirling it like a makeshift halberd.
SMACK!
The sign cracked across Marcus's cheek with a metallic sting, leaving a red welt and ringing in his ears.
Marcus gritted his teeth, forcing himself to ignore the pain. He leapt back, narrowly evading a savage kick aimed at his ribs, the wind from Giuseppe's heel brushing past him as he reset his footing.
Marcus didn't waste the opening.
But Giuseppe—grinning like a man possessed—grabbed a nearby screaming NPC by the collar and threw him into Marcus's path.
"Sorry, buddy," he muttered, more amused than apologetic.
Marcus snarled, twisting mid-swing to avoid cleaving through the civilian, but the hesitation was all Giuseppe needed. He closed the gap in an instant, vaulting over the civilian's back and slamming his elbow into Marcus's temple.
Staggered, Marcus barely managed to block the follow-up—a spinning strike with the 'STOP' sign—only for the edge to dent his blade and send shockwaves up his arm.
Another terrified NPC scrambled between them. Giuseppe kicked him square in the back, sending him flying into Marcus like a human projectile.
"Goddamn it, Giuseppe!" Marcus shouted, batting the poor soul aside with his forearm before Giuseppe rushed him again, laughing like a madman, throwing the 'STOP' sign at him.
Marcus dodges the incoming 'weapon' and lunges forward, unleashing a relentless flurry of diagonal strikes. Each slash cut through the air like thunder, aimed to break through Giuseppe's guard. But Giuseppe met every blow head-on, with his bare fists, a toothy grin on his face.
Knuckles clashed against steel, sparks flying with each collision. He deflected a strike with the back of his hand.
"Hahahaha~, you really are the perfect punching bag." Giuseppe let out a hearty laugh.
Before Marcus could recover, Giuseppe slipped in close and launched a vicious uppercut, his fist crashing into Marcus's chin with a heavy crack, sending him stumbling backwards.
Marcus wiped the blood from his lip with a grin of his own. "You talk too much."
In a blur, he struck back—a wide horizontal slash paired with a sweeping kick from his right leg, creating a pincer attack with no obvious escape route.
However, to the shock of those who could follow his movements.
Giuseppe's body bent at an inhuman angle, folding beneath the incoming blade and weaving through the narrow space between sword and leg.
Using Marcus's leg as a springboard, Giuseppe launched upward, landing a solid kick to Marcus's abdomen to propel himself higher into the air.
Marcus's eyes sharpened.
'You have nowhere to dodge now.'
He surged forward, raising his sword overhead, ready to cleave Giuseppe mid-air.
But just as he swung—
Giuseppe landed on the flat of the blade with his hand, balancing on its edge like a tightrope.
Before Marcus could process the display, Giuseppe pushed off, spinning into a crushing kick to Marcus's face.
CRACK.
The blow sent Marcus crashing to the ground, his body tumbling across shattered asphalt and twisted metal, leaving a trail of fractured pavement and dust in his wake.
But Giuseppe is done letting his opponent recover.
Before Marcus could even brace himself, Giuseppe was already there—a blur of motion and violence—closing the gap with terrifying speed.
He launched into a brutal assault, fist hammering down. Each strike landed with surgical precision—the crunch of bone, the crack of impact, the low thud of flesh against flesh echoing like a war drum.
Marcus lay motionless on the cracked pavement, his broadsword clattering beside him, useless now. His chest rose and fell in ragged gasps, eyes fluttering half-shut.
Giuseppe stood over him, chest heaving. For a long, drawn-out moment, he didn't move. The simulation's burning skyline roared in the distance, NPCS screaming, alarms blaring, glass shattering—and yet, all of it seemed to fade into silence.
He looked down at his opponent.
"…You really just don't know how to stay down, huh?" Giuseppe muttered, not expecting an answer. He even took off his bucket hat, running a hand through his sweat-matted hair and exhaled, a crooked grin stretching across his bruised face.
But the voice of the very opponent, he thought, was 'unconscious', shocked him.
"I'm not…Done yet…"
***
Giuseppe felt like today couldn't possibly get any better.
But right before his eyes, he saw something brilliant.
A dark, regal panther. One that is always sleeping, always restraining itself, was finally waking up.
Marcus slowly stood on his feet. His broadsword settled into a low, unfamiliar stance—it was indescribable.
'This is…Leona's technique…' Marcus's eyes shone with clarity.
Giuseppe stood frozen still, the perpetual smirk on his face—gone. His eyes widened at the sight. His instinct screamed at him.
He immediately trusted it.
'I can't defeat that without 'it'…'
He inhaled sharply, planting his feet into the cracked ground.
He adjusted his footing, sliding into a stance none had ever seen him use. This time, his form was focused, precise, unlike before.
'Vincenzo, I'm stealing your move…'
Two titans faced each other.
Across the burning city simulation, obsidian eyes clashed with molten gold.
The air thickened. Cracks spiralled outward from beneath their feet.
Marcus's sword shimmered—a pale white sheen like moonlight on steel.
Giuseppe's fist pulsed red—like a heartbeat.
Suddenly, the two charge.
Twin comets on a collision course. The air screamed. The very ground trembled beneath their feet.
The ruined city blurred behind them. Even the simulation's burning sky seemed to shrink before the weight of their clash.
And then, just as the final clash was about to detonate—
A shockwave of pressure blew outward as a third force landed between them
Linda.
She appeared in a burst of light, one arm catching Marcus's blade mid-swing, the other hand stopping Giuseppe's fist.
Her eyes were hard. Final.
"This match is over," she said coldly, voice like thunder wrapped in silk. "It's a tie."
The energy lingering between the two combatants dispersed in an instant.
Giuseppe clicked his tongue as he exhaled, his muscles still thrumming with unspent momentum. He muttered under his breath, half a scoff, half a sigh.
"…Did I really just get blue-balled?"
Marcus lowered his sword, the white sheen fading like mist in sunlight. His expression was unreadable—until he turned to Giuseppe with a mock accusatory glare.
"That had to be racially motivated."
"That's exactly right," Giuseppe said without missing a beat, throwing his arms wide with a grin. "Glad you finally caught on."
Marcus rolled his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching despite himself.
They walked off toward the stands, unfazed by the roaring cheers around them.
Arthur and Daniel met them at the edge of the stands, clapping them on the back with wide grins and loud congratulations.
"That was insane," Arthur said. "You two looked like you were trying to kill each other."
Daniel nodded. "It was intense."
A few steps away, Tandav crossed his arms and gave them a look. "You do realise it was just a training match, right? Not a warzone. A lot of that shit was VERY unnecessary. Save that energy for the script."
His nagging went ignored.
Mavena's voice cut through the chattering students.
"Today's classes are over. You are dismissed."
_______________________________
Author Note: ;)