Picking Up Girls With My Pickup System-Chapter 13: Escalation.

For a heartbeat, the courtyard froze.

Kent’s knuckles still stung from the clumsy punch, his chest heaving as though he’d just lifted a car. He couldn’t believe it himself—he had actually hit Derek.

The crowd couldn’t believe it either. Gasps rippled outward, followed by shouts.

"Did you see that?"

"He actually swung!"

"No way—Gilbert just punched Derek!"

Phones tilted, hands trembling as they recorded.

Derek stood perfectly still, hand pressed to his cheek. His grin was gone, his eyes no longer amused. He turned his head slightly, working his jaw, then slowly looked back at Kent.

The grin returned—but it wasn’t the same. It was thinner now, sharper, a blade’s edge instead of a clown’s smirk.

"Oh," Derek murmured, his voice low enough that only the closest students could hear. His words cut through the air like a chill. "So you do have teeth."

Kent swallowed hard, but he forced himself to stay standing, even as his knees begged to buckle.

Derek cracked his neck to one side, then the other. The sound popped sharp, like gunfire. "Guess playtime’s over."

The crowd reacted instantly—half of them cheering louder, the other half suddenly uneasy. The energy shifted. Everyone knew it: this wasn’t a joke anymore.

Derek rolled his shoulders, his grin widening again, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Those eyes were cold now, locked onto Kent with intent.

Sam, trapped at the edge of the circle, muttered under his breath, "Shit, Kent... what did you do?"

Kent’s hands shook at his sides. His jaw throbbed where Derek had hit him earlier, but worse than the pain was the weight in his stomach—the heavy knowledge that whatever came next would be so much worse.

Ding.

[Warning: Opponent entering Serious Mode.]

[Difficulty Increased.]

The glowing text seared itself across Kent’s vision, confirming what his gut already knew.

The crowd hushed as Derek stepped forward, each footfall deliberate, his body no longer loose and lazy but coiled like a predator.

Kent’s breath caught in his throat.

The switch had flipped.

Derek lunged.

Kent barely registered the movement before a fist slammed into his gut.

Air exploded from his lungs, his knees buckling as white-hot pain shot through his stomach. He doubled over, clutching his middle, gagging on bile.

The crowd roared.

"YEAH! That’s what I’m talking about!"

"Finish him, Derek!"

Ding.

[Health -12.]

[Remaining: 78%.]

Kent staggered, barely upright. His vision blurred, ears ringing.

Another blow came—this time to his ribs. The sound was a sharp crack, like wood splitting. Pain blossomed across his side so violently he thought something had actually broken.

He screamed, stumbling sideways, only to be caught by Derek’s next punch.

Ding.

[Health -15.]

[Remaining: 63%.]

[Pain Multiplier Active: x1.5.]

Kent’s knees hit the pavement. His palms scraped against the concrete as he gasped raggedly, coughing up more blood. The taste was everywhere now, metallic and warm.

The crowd howled louder, phones zooming in. Students shoved each other for better angles, faces lit with glee and horror.

Sam yelled, his voice cracking, "Derek, stop! He’s done! He’s—"

Derek didn’t even glance at him. He grabbed Kent by the collar and yanked him upright. "Oh no. He’s not done. Not until I say he’s done."

Kent’s eyes widened, heart hammering as Derek’s fist blurred again.

Crack!

This time it was across the face. His head snapped sideways, blood spraying from his lip as the world spun in circles. He stumbled backward, somehow managing not to collapse completely.

Ding.

[Health -14.]

[Remaining: 49%.]

Kent’s legs shook violently. He barely clung to consciousness, the System burning lines of data across his vision.

[Stat Progress: Endurance +0.2.]

[Stat Progress: Defense +0.1.]

Even in the haze of agony, Kent realized—the System wasn’t letting this happen for nothing. It was feeding on the pain, twisting it into growth.

But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Derek cocked back his arm again, eyes glinting. "Come on, Gilbert. Stand the fuck up. Didn’t you wanna fight back?"

Kent’s lip trembled. His body screamed to collapse, to curl into a ball and let it end.

But the System chimed again.

[New Challenge: Survive 60 Seconds.]

[Reward: +2 Endurance.]

Kent’s stomach dropped. Sixty seconds? Against Derek? It felt impossible.

The crowd shouted for more. Derek’s grin widened cruelly.

And Kent, swaying on his feet, realized he didn’t have a choice.

Kent wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, smearing blood across his skin. His vision swam, Derek’s looming shape doubling and tripling before him.

Ding.

[Challenge Active: Survive 60 Seconds.]

[Timer: 00:58.]

The glowing numbers ticked down, each second pounding louder than the crowd’s roar.

Fifty-eight seconds. Fifty-seven.

Kent swallowed, his throat raw, body trembling.

Derek tilted his head, grin wide. "You’re still standing? Huh. Didn’t think you had this much spine."

Then he swung again.

The punch tore across Kent’s jaw. His head snapped sideways, ears ringing as he staggered, nearly tripping over his own feet.

Ding.

[Health -13.]

[Remaining: 36%.]

Kent spat blood, coughing, legs wobbling.

[Timer: 00:49.]

The crowd screamed, surging forward.

"Holy shit, he’s still up!"

"How’s he not out cold?"

"Man’s a punching bag!"

Phones flashed in every direction, capturing each blow, each stagger, each spray of red.

Derek slammed his fist into Kent’s ribs again.

Kent’s scream echoed, his knees hitting the ground—only for Derek to jerk him upright by his collar.

Ding.

[Health -10.]

[Remaining: 26%.]

[Timer: 00:37.]

Kent’s chest convulsed. His breaths came shallow, ragged. His body wanted to shut down, but the glowing countdown burned into his mind, keeping him tethered.

Thirty-seven seconds. Thirty-six.

Sam shouted from the edge of the circle, his voice cracking with panic. "Kent, stay down! Stop fighting, man! Just—just stop!"

Kent’s lips curled in a broken smile, bloody teeth flashing. "Can’t..."

Sam’s eyes widened.

Derek slammed another fist into Kent’s stomach, doubling him over.

Ding.

[Health -8.]

[Remaining: 18%.]

[Timer: 00:22.]

The world dimmed around the edges. Black spots swarmed Kent’s vision. Every breath rattled his chest like broken glass.

But the timer ticked on.

Twenty-one. Twenty.

Derek sneered, gripping Kent’s shirt again. "Still not down? You’re pathetic, Gilbert. Can’t even take a real hit."

Kent’s knees wobbled. His head lolled.

But somehow, impossibly, he stayed on his feet.

[Timer: 00:11.]

The crowd’s tone shifted. Where there had been mockery, now there was awe—and confusion.

"Why isn’t he out yet?"

"Dude’s still going..."

"Is he—getting tougher?"

Phones lowered slightly. Some students stopped laughing altogether.

Derek’s grin faltered, his punches hitting harder, sharper. He wanted Kent broken, but Kent wouldn’t fall.

[Timer: 00:03.]

[Timer: 00:02.]

[Timer: 00:01.]

The final second ticked.

Ding.

[Challenge Complete: Survive 60 Seconds.]

[Reward: +2 Endurance.]

[Stat Upgrade: Endurance +2.0.]

A rush of energy slammed into Kent’s body—small, faint, but enough to hold him upright for just a breath longer.

The crowd’s roar swelled into chaos.

And Derek’s scowl deepened, humiliation flickering across his face.

Kent had endured.

Kent’s chest heaved, every breath scraping his throat raw. His legs shook violently, but he was still upright, swaying like a battered scarecrow in the wind.

Derek’s scowl twisted into a snarl. "You think this is funny? You think lasting sixty seconds makes you a man?"

He raised his fist again and lunged.

The world slowed.

Kent’s vision blurred, Derek’s arm cutting through the air like a guillotine. His instincts screamed to move, to duck—anything to avoid the blow. But his body was wrecked, his muscles sluggish and torn.

Still, something inside him flickered.

A spark.

Kent’s arm rose, almost on its own. His hand shot up and—smack!—he caught Derek’s wrist mid-swing.

The impact jarred his bones, rattling through his shoulder, but he stopped it. He stopped it.

The courtyard erupted.

"No way!"

"He blocked it!"

"Holy shit—Gilbert actually stopped Derek’s punch!"

Phones zoomed in, kids leaping, shouting, swearing. The jeering atmosphere shifted completely; no one was laughing now.

Even Derek froze, eyes widening. For the first time, surprise cracked his smug expression.

Kent’s arm trembled violently, every muscle screaming, but he locked eyes with Derek, teeth bloody as he forced a hoarse chuckle. "Not... so easy, huh?"

Derek’s nostrils flared, his pride ignited into fury.

Ding.

[System Notice: Action Recognized.]

[Stat Progress: Strength +0.3.]

[Skill Unlock: Grit (Lv.1) – Minor damage reduction while enduring consecutive hits.]

The notification burned across Kent’s vision, but he barely had the strength to process it. All he felt was the tremor in Derek’s wrist beneath his palm—proof that, even broken and bleeding, he had managed to resist.

The crowd surged louder, their chants splintering.

"Gilbert! Gilbert!"

"Derek’s slipping!"

"No way, this is insane!"

Sam, caught in the chaos, pressed a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Kent’s hand finally slipped, his arm dropping uselessly to his side. His knees buckled, but the point was made.

He’d shown them all.

And Derek’s glare made one thing clear: he was going to make Kent pay for it.

The courtyard vibrated with noise—chants, gasps, the shrill cry of students climbing benches to record from better angles.

Kent swayed on his feet, his entire body sagging, eyes barely open. Blood dripped from his chin onto his shirt in slow, heavy drops. He had nothing left—except the single spark that had shocked everyone into silence.

And that spark was enough to ignite Derek’s rage.

The smirk was gone. His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring as he ripped his wrist free from Kent’s weak grip.

"You think this is a fucking joke?" Derek spat, his voice sharp and venomous. "You think blocking one punch makes you somebody?"

He stepped forward, towering over Kent, veins bulging in his forearm as he cocked his fist back.

The crowd went wild, some screaming for him to finish it, others begging him to stop.

"Do it, Derek!"

"End this already!"

"No, no—he’ll kill him!"

Sam’s voice broke through, desperate. "Stop! You’ll—"

But Derek’s fist was already drawn, glowing under the courtyard lights with the promise of devastation.

Kent, swaying in the center of the chaos, raised his bloodied face. His swollen lips curled in a defiant, broken grin.

"Do your worst."

Derek’s eyes narrowed. His arm shot forward, every muscle in his body twisting with rage—

—and the Chapter cut to black.