From Trash to Lord of Thunder: The Rise of the Cursed Extra-Chapter 62: Case Closed

Charles was on high alert, his eyes locked on Zev Korran.

The pain from earlier blows throbbed in his face and stomach, but he gritted his teeth and kept his guard up.

Zev, his purple hair swaying slightly, moved with that infuriating fluidity, circling him like a predator.

Charles tried to anticipate the next attack, jerking his head to dodge a punch he saw coming.

Bam!

The blow landed on his cheek despite his attempt to evade it.

Charles staggered back, blinking in confusion.

’Shit!’ he thought, feeling the sting on his skin. ’How’d he do that?’

Before he could recover, another punch slammed into his jaw.

Bam!

And then one to his cheekbone.

Bam!

Frustration surged in Charles.

Desperate, he threw a kick at Zev’s stomach, hoping to land something, anything.

But Zev, with inhuman speed, caught his leg with both hands and yanked hard, trying to bend Charles’s knee.

Charles grunted, flexing his leg to resist, and seized the moment to throw a punch straight at Zev’s face.

Zev dodged, tilting his head aside. Charles didn’t give up, swinging another punch, then another, his arms moving as fast as he could muster.

But every blow sliced through empty air, missing Zev entirely. freēnovelkiss.com

’What the hell?’ Charles thought, panting. ’It’s like fighting a ghost.’

With a quick twist, Charles freed his leg, though pain in his knee made him limp slightly.

Zev stepped back, raising his guard again, that calm demeanor pushing Charles’s nerves to the edge.

Grandmaster Torak, from the platform, let out a mocking laugh.

"Is this all, Rian Cole?" he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "You lack technique. Winning this fight is impossible."

Charles wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, forcing a chuckle.

’Damn, he’s right,’ he thought. ’But I’ve got more than just fists.’

Charles closed his eyes for a second, tuning out the crowd’s murmurs and Zev’s intense stare. He focused, searching for that familiar tingle in his hands and feet.

And there it was: a faint spark, barely noticeable, coursing through his veins.

The electricity was there, so subtle it was invisible to others.

Charles opened his eyes, a wave of confidence surging through him.

’This’ll do,’ he thought.

Zev advanced again, throwing another punch at his face.

This time, Charles didn’t try to dodge. He let the blow connect, grunting at the impact.

Bam!

But in that split second, he used the closeness to land a punch to Zev’s chest, laced with a faint jolt of electricity.

Thud!

The hit made Zev cough, stepping back with wide-eyed surprise.

Charles didn’t waste the moment. With speed he hadn’t shown before, he threw a punch straight at Zev’s face.

But, to his shock, his fist passed through Zev’s head like it was smoke.

The figure vanished, and Charles whipped his head around just in time to see the real Zev, several meters away, watching with a faint smile.

’An illusion!’ Charles thought, laughing under his breath. "Nice trick, huh? Not bad!"

The crowd’s murmurs grew louder, and the Grandmasters on the platform exchanged glances.

Charles’s speed had caught their attention, especially Kael’s, who raised an eyebrow with interest.

Though Charles had barely any technique compared to Zev, he was now holding his own.

Each time Zev landed a hit, Charles countered with a blow of his own, fueled by that spark of electricity giving him an extra edge.

Bam! Thud!

Zev landed a punch to Charles’s cheek, but Charles answered with a kick to Zev’s thigh, making him grunt.

Thud! Bam!

Charles took a hit to the stomach but returned a punch to Zev’s shoulder, forcing him back.

The fight turned into a brutal exchange, both fighters panting and drenched in sweat.

The crowd, which had mocked Rian at first, now murmured in awe.

"Whoa!" a young fighter whispered. "Rian’s holding up! Didn’t think he’d get this far!"

"How’s he doing it?" another said, frowning. "Zev’s a beast, but Rian’s not backing down."

Lira, at the platform’s edge, watched in silence.

’He’s using his ability,’ she thought, hiding her nerves from the others’ eyes.

Suddenly, Torak raised a hand, his expression impatient.

"Enough!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the chamber.

Charles, still on guard, turned to him, frowning.

"I haven’t lost!" he protested, panting. "I can keep going!"

Torak glared at him with disdain.

"I’ve seen enough," he said. "Your effort is... acceptable, but you’re not Master material. Not yet."

Grandmaster Kael, head of security, let out a loud laugh, leaning forward.

"Why stop the fight, Torak?" he said, his tone teasing. "It was getting good! Let them finish."

Torak shot him a withering look, clearly annoyed.

"We have more pressing matters," he snapped. "The outsiders’ movements demand our attention. We don’t have time for these... displays."

Kael laughed again, shrugging.

"Then why’d you show up?" he said, smirking. "If time’s such a concern, you could’ve stayed in your office."

The tension between the two Grandmasters was palpable, and the crowd murmured, visibly uneasy.

"Are they gonna fight?" one whispered.

"Don’t be stupid—this space is too small for them," another replied quietly.

Before Torak could retort, Grandmaster Veyra, overseer of ascensions, raised a hand to defuse the situation.

"One moment," she said, her voice calm but firm. She looked at Charles, studying him with interest. "Rian, I now better understand your fighting level. You’ve shown resilience and... some ability. But we can’t grant you Master rank just yet."

Veyra paused, glancing at the other Grandmasters, who nodded silently.

"However, your idea of weekly arena fights has merit."

Charles blinked, surprised.

’My idea?’ he thought. ’Oh, right. I messed up saying that. But... they’re on board?’

Veyra continued, her tone growing serious.

"Beyond that, we propose something more. To prove your commitment to the clan, you’ll need to bring back the heads of beasts roaming our territory. This will not only show your strength but also contribute to the clan. You’ll also learn the significance of each rank, from Aspirant to Grandmaster. Understood?"

Charles nodded slowly, processing her words.

Grandmaster Kael grinned, clearly pleased.

"Solid proposal, Veyra," he said. "I’m in."

Torak, still irritated, gave a reluctant nod.

"Acceptable," he said dryly.

The fourth Grandmaster, a quiet man with round glasses who managed the clan’s economy and hadn’t spoken until now, raised a hand.

"I agree as well," he said calmly. "Contributing to the clan is vital. If Rian can do it, he deserves a chance."

Charles felt every eye on him. He took a deep breath, bowing slightly to the Grandmasters.

"Thanks for your... kindness," he said, a hint of sarcasm only Lira seemed to catch. "I accept the terms."

Torak raised a hand, signaling the session’s end.

"Session adjourned," he said, his voice brooking no argument. "Rian, prepare for your tasks. Don’t disappoint us."