Ethan was easily evading Mace’s attacks.

’He’s strong, but predictable.’

Though he’d be lying if he didn’t say that it was getting harder to do so with each attack.

As such, he shifted seamlessly.

’Minor Assimilation: Talon.’

The change was immediate: his body lightened, his movements became more graceful, and his perception stretched just enough to make everything feel slower.

Now, he wasn’t just dodging; he was weaving between attacks.

Mace’s fists tore through the air with devastating force, each swing capable of shattering bone and cracking reinforced ground, but Ethan slipped between them with precise, almost surgical movements.

A step to the side.

A lean back.

A slight pivot of the hips.

Each motion was minimal, efficient, and clean.

His speed was impressive, but his vision was what made the difference; he wasn’t reacting, he was reading the attacks coming his way.

Seeing the tension in Mace’s shoulders before the punch came. The shift in weight before the follow-up. The subtle telegraphing of a man who relied too much on brute force.

To the crowd, it looked like he was dancing through a storm.

"You gonna hit me," Ethan called out calmly, slipping past another punch, "or just keep smashing the floor?"

"Stand still!" Mace roared, swinging harder.

"Make me," the hawk-eyed man laughed.

The crowd erupted.

What had started as confusion and disappointment had flipped completely. Now they were invested, with every near-miss drawing gasps and every heavy strike that shattered the ground drawing cheers.

But then Mace adapted.

It was a slight adjustment, but it was enough.

As Ethan slipped past one punch, Mace clenched his teeth and followed it up with a flurry of punches, and this time one of them landed.

Thud!

A fist slammed into his stomach, solid and heavy, the impact folding him instantly.

"-Ghk!"

Air blasted from his lungs as his body was launched backwards, feet leaving the ground as he tumbled across the arena floor.

He rolled once, then again, before skidding to a stop several metres away.

The crowd roared louder.

There was finally a clean hit after his series of desperate attacks.

Mace stood tall, cracking his neck as a grin spread across his face.

"There it is," he said, rolling his shoulders. "Knew you couldn’t dodge forever."

He took a step forward, confidence returning.

"You’re still just an E Rank at the end of the day."

Ethan groaned softly.

"...Yeah."

He pushed himself up slowly, one hand pressing against his stomach where the pain still lingered, dull but noticeable.

That hit would’ve dropped him not long ago.

Two months back, when he first "fought" Mace, that same punch would’ve ended the fight instantly. It would have left him gasping on the ground, broken and helpless.

But now?

He stood steady, his breathing controlled, and his eyes calm.

Seeing that, Mace’s grin faltered slightly.

Ethan exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders once as if shaking off the impact. Then he locked eyes with his opponent, startling him with his hawk-like eyes now.

"I guess..." he muttered, voice low but clear, "I should take this more seriously."

Across from him, Mace’s expression changed as well.

The arrogance didn’t disappear, but it tightened and refined into something more cautious.

’For him to tank that hit and still be so calm, he must have something up his sleeve.’

It was baffling since Ethan was supposedly an E Rank.

’But it’s better to be safe than sorry.’

The stone-like texture across his skin spread further now, more pronounced, creeping along his arms and neck like a second layer.

He hadn’t been going all out either, not even close.

The air between them thickened, pressure building.

The kind that made even the crowd hesitate, the noise dipping slightly as anticipation replaced pure excitement.

Ethan adjusted his stance, remaining calm and loose.

Mace clenched his fists, muscles tensing beneath hardened skin.

Neither of them moved.

Because they both understood that this was where the real fight began.

-

"What are they doing now?"

"Is that mystery opponent just going to keep dodging?"

"That’s what the pussy gets - a punch to the gut, hahaha!"

"Do you know what the masked guy’s ability is?"

The crowd wasn’t impressed.

Their voices crashed down from every direction, loud, impatient, unforgiving. They hadn’t come here to watch someone dance around a fight - they wanted violence, impact, dominance.

And right now?

Ethan wasn’t giving them that, at least not yet.

’They can complain all they want,’ he thought, watching Mace carefully as the man rolled his shoulders and stepped forward again. ’I’m not here to entertain them.’

His gaze sharpened.

’I definitely won’t be using beast summoning here or assimilating with Spark. It’s too flashy.’

That flame-like energy would draw attention, questions he didn’t want asked. And his S Rank skill would bring much more than that, so he kept it as his trump card, one he was confident he wouldn’t need.

’That leaves assimilating with Talon and Wolfy.’

A faint smirk tugged at his lips beneath the balaclava.

’That’s more than enough for his rocky bitch.’

It was almost absurd.

Standing across from a C Rank - someone who, not long ago, would’ve felt like an insurmountable wall - and yet, Ethan’s mind wasn’t filled with fear.

It was filled with restraint.

’I can’t show all my cards here... not in front of this many people.’

That much he was sure of, but he was also certain that...

’I’m not winning this without showing something.’

Snapping out of his thoughts was Mace, who was taunting him and trying to get the crowd on his side.

"Why did you challenge me if this was all you were going to do?"

He let out an over-the-top laugh, one that made Ethan cringe.

"Did you think your pet A Rank would save you? Or maybe you were stupid enough to think you could somehow overcome the gap in our ranks?"

He paused, ushering him toward him with his hand like someone straight out of a kung fu movie.

"Show me what you’ve got, you... Son. Of. A. Bitch."

Knowing how much Ethan hated that insult, he emphasised each word while staring him straight in the eye. But the man before him didn’t last out, laughed slightly instead.

’Oh, I’m gonna fuck this guy up.’

His breathing slowed, and his stance lowered.

’Partial Assimilation: Wolfy.’