Ultimate Dragon System: Grinding my way to the Top-Chapter 151: olmo’s spar

Olmo stared at Jelo,, still surprised by how he stood completely still. He was interfacing with the system that was communicating with him. After all the commotion, Olmo wasted no time.

"We need to return. We’ve gotten what we came for. There’s no reason to linger here any longer," Olmo said sternly.

He pulled out something that looked like a remote and pressed it. Instantly, a portal back to the room opened.

A few hours later, Olmo wandered outside the academy in the evening. As he walked, he suddenly stopped.

He could sense a presence nearby.

"It seems you’ve gotten better at concealing your presence," Olmo said as he turned around.

Jerro stood behind him.

"I see your senses are as sharp as ever," Jerro said with an impressed smile. "It’s been a while since you called me out for a spar. Are you starting to get rusty?" he teased.

"Well, every now and then, I have to spar with you to keep from losing my edge," Olmo replied. "Out of all the times we’ve fought, you’ve won 297 times, I’ve won 298 times, and we’ve drawn 200 times. So, what will it be today? Another draw? Will I win, or will you finally catch up?" Jerro said as he led the way to his house.

"I’ll let the fight decide that," Olmo replied.

They walked together, with Olmo following Jerro to his house.

They finally arrived at Jerro’s house. They went to the yard, where they usually sparred. Olmo took off his coat and hung it nearby.

They stared at each other for a while.

Then Olmo said, "As usual, I won’t go easy on you. And as usual, don’t go easy on me."

# The Fight 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

Olmo struck first, launching a sharp jab. The air compressed around his fist, extending his reach and amplifying the impact as it cracked against Jerro’s cheekbone.

Jerro’s head snapped to the side, but instead of retreating, he grinned. A faint red glow began emanating from his skin. "Thanks for the warm-up."

He retaliated with a straight punch. Olmo twisted, using the air to pivot his body just enough to avoid the blow. He countered immediately with a low kick, wind swirling around his shin to add velocity. The strike hammered into Jerro’s thigh.

The red aura brightened. Jerro’s muscles visibly tensed as the absorbed energy coursed through him. His next attack came faster—a hook that Olmo barely deflected by creating an air cushion between them. Even the glancing contact sent vibrations up his forearm.

"Every hit makes me stronger," Jerro said, advancing. "You see the problem?"

Olmo backpedaled, letting air currents push against his back to increase his speed. "I see someone who talks too much."

He pivoted and drove both palms forward, sending a compressed blast of air straight at Jerro’s chest. No physical contact—just pure force. The wind struck like an invisible battering ram, and Jerro stumbled backward, gasping.

But his body had still absorbed the *impact*. The red glow intensified further, now pulsing like a heartbeatvv

Jerro charged, moving with enhanced speed. He threw a combination—left, right, left—each punch carrying more power than the last. Olmo used the air to slip between the strikes, his movements flowing like he was underwater. He retaliated with an elbow strike, air swirling around the point of impact.

*Crack.* Direct hit to Jerro’s ribs.

The red aura exploded outward. Jerro’s eyes were wild now, drunk on accumulated power. He caught Olmo’s next kick mid-motion and yanked him forward into a devastating knee strike.

Olmo felt something give in his abdomen. Pain lanced through him as he gasped for air—ironic, given his power. He created a burst of wind beneath himself to break free, tumbling backward to create distance.

But Jerro’s weakness was becoming apparent. His breathing was ragged. Sweat poured down his face despite only fighting for minutes. His legs trembled slightly between attacks. The absorbed energy was burning through his body like wildfire—strengthening him but consuming him simultaneously. His human flesh couldn’t contain unlimited power.

And Olmo’s problem was equally clear: every strike he landed fed his opponent. But avoiding combat meant Jerro would eventually overwhelm him with the power he’d already accumulated.

Olmo spat blood. His ribs screamed with every breath, but he forced himself forward. He couldn’t win by holding back—only by overwhelming Jerro before the energy overload became manageable.

He attacked with renewed desperation, using air to enhance every strike. Rapid-fire punches, each one amplified by compressed wind. Kicks that whistled through the air with unnatural speed. An aerial knee strike with wind propelling him upward and downward.

Each blow landed. Each one fed Jerro’s power.

The red aura became blinding. Jerro’s body was radiating heat now, his skin flushed red, veins standing out like cables. He was strong—impossibly strong—but his eyes showed something else: pain. Strain. His body was tearing itself apart trying to contain the energy.

"Can’t... stop it..." Jerro growled through gritted teeth.

He swung with everything he had, a haymaker carrying all his accumulated power. Olmo met it head-on, gathering every bit of air he could manipulate around his own fist.

## Collision

The two strikes met in the space between them.

The shockwave exploded outward. Both fighters were launched backward by the force of their own attacks. Olmo hit the ground hard, rolling several times before coming to rest. His right arm hung at an unnatural angle—dislocated or broken, he couldn’t tell through the pain. His ribs were definitely cracked now, each breath agony.

He tried to push himself up. The air responded weakly to his will, but his body wouldn’t obey. Everything hurt. He collapsed back down.

Twenty feet away, Jerro lay motionless, chest heaving. The red aura flickered and died completely. His muscles were torn, pushed beyond human limits. He could barely move his fingers. The energy had burned through him completely, leaving him as empty as a spent battery.

Neither fighter could stand. Neither could continue.

## Stalemate

Olmo tilted his head to see his opponent. Jerro was staring back, both of them breathing hard.

"Still... breathing?" Jerro rasped.

"Barely," Olmo admitted, wincing. "You?"

"Can’t... move."

Silence stretched between them, broken only by labored breathing.

"Tie?" Olmo finally said.

Jerro managed the ghost of a smile. "Tie."

They lay there, two warriors undone by the very powers that made them formidable—one who couldn’t attack without strengthening his enemy, and one whose strength consumed him from within.

The fight was over. Neither had won.