The inmates in the crowd could not believe what they were witnessing. They had come expecting a bloody battle royal, but that possibility vanished when Joe wiped out the rest of the competitors in three seconds, leaving only himself and the old man in the ring. Many thought Psycho would be tossed off the platform soon after.

  Instead, they got a war.

  Both fighters moved like seasoned warriors, trading devastating blows that tore apart the stage. What should have been a dull conclusion became the most entertaining match in the tournament’s history. Every eye stayed locked on them as the crowd held its breath, waiting for the next exchange.

  “Did you know that old man was this strong?” Bob asked a man with a shriveled beard, the same guy he had seen speaking to Joe in the washroom.

  “I’ve heard stories,” the man replied, his expression distant. “Before he was imprisoned, there were rumors Charles worked as a bodyguard for Roger, the richest man in all of Suveny. A man like that has powerful enemies. They say Charles killed countless assassins sent by influential merchants to take out his boss. After seeing this, I believe those stories. Even with a suppression collar, his strikes have enough power to bend the wind to his will. That old man is a monster.”

  Bob swallowed. He had always seen Psycho as a strange, unstable geezer. He never imagined he possessed this level of strength. It made him shudder when he remembered all the times he had talked shit to him while they shared a cell.

  “The more surprising thing,” the bearded man continued, drawing Bob’s attention back to him, “is not the old man. It’s the one facing him. I can’t believe there’s anyone besides the Boss who can read and react to those strikes. He’s agile and ridiculously strong. I know he beat Kyle, but I never thought he could keep up with this version of Charles. Did you?”

  Bob shook his head slowly. “No. I met him yesterday. When I heard he was locked up for property damage, I felt sorry for him. I didn’t think he’d survive in here, so I took him under my wing. But after what he did to Kyle and what he’s doing now, I’m certain he can handle himself.”

  The man folded his arms. “With what they’ve shown, do you think either of them can take on the Boss?”

  Bob let out a quiet chuckle and glanced at him with a confident smile. “We both know the answer to that. Our King is invincible.”

  Inside the ring, Joe was stunned that Charles had fractured his bones. Not even Steve had managed that. The guard had been holding back, but his strikes still carried serious power. If Joe were still the man he had been when he first arrived in this world, those blows would have killed him.

  He grinned and charged again.

  Charles met him at the center of the stage. They stood their ground and exchanged punches in rapid succession. Neither yielded an inch. Unlike his fight with Kyle, Joe did not hold back. He poured everything into each strike. Charles was no longer a helpless old man in his eyes. He was an opponent Joe had to defeat, no matter the cost.

  Joe needed to win this tournament. He needed to climb the prison ranks and meet the Emperor. He needed answers about the origin of the Smiling Devil. And above all, he could not allow Charles to get his hands on that drug again. To accomplish all of that, he had to win.

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  The crowd roared as the two battered each other without blocking or dodging. Each time Charles found an opening, Joe felt bone crack. Punches to his face threatened to knock him unconscious. Blood streamed from his nose. A few teeth broke loose, and crimson mixed with his saliva. When he grinned, his red teeth gave him a feral look.

  He did not retreat.

  The pain only made his heart pound harder with excitement. Unlike his battle with the golem, which had taken place within his consciousness, this was real. His true body was on the line. The agony, the blood, the fractures. This was combat at its purest.

  After nearly a minute of brutal exchanges, Joe finally broke the deadlock. A heavy punch to Charles’s chest sent the old man sliding ten meters across the stage.

  Charles stopped and tore two massive chunks of stone from the platform. Without hesitation, he hurled them at Joe.

  They moved too fast to dodge. Joe smashed both with his fists, shattering them into fragments. Dust exploded outward and clouded his vision.

  A second later, his feet were swept out from under him. He fell backward. Two soles slammed into his back and launched him skyward. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he shot twenty five meters into the air.

  Charles appeared above him.

  The old man's feet crashed into Joe’s face and drove him downward. They descended like meteors and collided with the stage. The impact blasted debris in all directions. Joe felt his skull fracture as Charles pressed his head into the stone. The old man crouched, forcing his weight into Joe’s cranium before leaping back and landing five meters away.

  Dust filled the air. When it cleared, Charles stood tall while Joe lay flat on his back.

  The crowd fell silent.

  Then laughter tore through the arena.

  Joe flipped to his feet. Blood ran down his face, and a wide grin stretched across it.

  “You’re insane, old man! You’re absolutely crazy!” he laughed. “You’re the real deal!” He slammed a hand against his chest. “Come at me! Give me everything you’ve got!”

  Charles responded with a barrage of punches, striking the air. Each swing released a blast of wind that hammered into Joe and sent him sliding backward. The attacks came from different angles, too fast to track. They slipped through the gaps in his guard and battered him relentlessly.

  “What the hell? I can’t see where they’re coming from. The wind’s too fast.”

  He was pushed closer to the edge of the stage.

  Then he remembered Steve’s words about trusting his body.

  Joe stopped trying to follow the blasts with his eyes. Instead, he focused on instinct. It was harder than he expected. The attacks kept landing before his body could react. He relaxed and endured them, relying on [Pain Resistance] to dull the agony. He pushed thoughts of the tournament and the edge behind him. He concentrated only on the rhythm of the strikes.

  Gradually, his body adapted. It began to anticipate the blows. It moved before his mind processed what was happening.

  Charles noticed and intensified his assault.

  Joe let go completely. He surrendered control to instinct. Fewer strikes connected. When he reached the edge of the stage, he grinned.

  “I’ve got it.”

  He slipped past the next two blasts and dashed forward.

  Charles unleashed another wave of force. Joe dodged cleanly. The old man punched the stage, sending up a cloud of dust that swallowed his form.

  Joe clenched his right fist and mimicked Charles’s technique. He punched the air with everything he had. A blast of compressed force tore from his knuckles and ripped across the stage, dispersing the haze. Joe's eyes widened when he realized Charles was gone.

  The old man appeared behind him.

  Without thinking, Joe leaped upward as a fist tore through the space where his spine had been. A violent burst of wind erupted from the punch.

  “There you are.”

  Midair, Joe backflipped and drove his foot into Charles’s skull with full force. The impact smashed the old man into the stage. Joe landed lightly and watched. Charles lay on his face motionless in the crater of the platform. Joe turned him over. Blood ran down the old man’s face. He was unconscious.

  Joe cradled him carefully and carried him to the edge of the ring. He lowered him gently to the floor outside. When Charles’s back touched the ground, the crowd erupted. The battle was over. Joe had won.