"If I can't win like this," Xavier exhaled, steady despite the chaos, "then I'll win another way."
Rank 299 hesitated. Barely. A fraction of a second. But hesitation was a mistake. And mistakes got punished.
Xavier didn't wait.
He moved—not like the academy-trained fighters who drilled predictable sequences into their bones, but like something wilder. Something built for disruption. He shifted fast, cutting into Rank 299's space before his opponent could recalibrate.
A feint. Quick. His left hand flicked up like he was going for a jab, but it was a lie—nothing but bait. Rank 299 reacted anyway, raising his guard too soon.
Xavier twisted.
Pivoted hard.
Drove his right fist into his opponent's ribs.
Solid impact. He felt the resistance in his knuckles, the shock of muscle and bone absorbing the force. Rank 299 grunted, stumbling half a step back. Not much—but enough.
Xavier pressed forward.
No pauses. No breathers. This wasn't about letting his opponent find his footing again.
His next strike came at an odd angle, deliberately awkward, throwing Rank 299 off balance. A sharp diagonal swing—designed to look imprecise but land exactly where Xavier wanted.
Contact.
The hit slammed against Rank 299's shoulder, forcing another misstep. Xavier could see the realization flicker in his opponent's eyes now—the understanding that the fight had shifted out of his control.
Too bad.
A sharp hook. A pivot. Another strike.
Rank 299 caught part of it this time, twisting just enough to absorb the worst of the impact—but Xavier wasn't stopping.
His footwork kept shifting, never staying predictable long enough for Rank 299 to find a rhythm. Every time his opponent tried to push back, Xavier was already moving again, cutting into his space, keeping him on the defensive.
'Stay ahead. Don't give him a second to breathe.'
But then—
A mistake.
Xavier stepped in too deep, just a little too eager.
Rank 299 saw it.
Exploited it.
A clean counterstrike slammed into Xavier's ribs.
Sharp, brutal pain. Xavier exhaled fast, forcing air through clenched teeth.
'That one's gonna sting later.'
It would have knocked most fighters back. Would've forced them to reset.
Xavier?
He twisted with the impact.
Used it.
Turned his opponent's own momentum into an opening.
Rank 299 had expected recoil—had expected Xavier to pull away from the pain, maybe stagger back a little. Instead, Xavier launched straight into the next move.
Unpredictable.
A knee strike—fast, hard, unforgiving—driven straight into Rank 299's torso.
Contact.
The air left Rank 299's lungs in a sharp, strained breath. His body curled slightly from the force, his footing unstable, his stance faltering.
Xavier didn't hesitate.
He surged forward.
A blur of motion—two, three, four strikes, each designed to break down the last bits of his opponent's defense. Jab. Cross. Elbow. Every hit landing just close enough to keep Rank 299 from recovering fully, just strong enough to make sure he stayed on the edge of defeat.
Rank 299 was trying to recover, but his breathing was off now. Xavier could hear the uneven exhales, could see the brief hesitation in his stance—a millisecond of uncertainty, a crack in his usual precision. It was enough.
'He's feeling it now. Good.'
Still, Xavier knew better than to get cocky. Rank 299 wasn't some rookie who fell apart after a few hard hits. He was dangerous, experienced, and likely had another strategy brewing behind his frustration. Xavier had seen enough fights to know how quickly the tide could turn.
But that didn't mean he was going to let him.
He adjusted again, shifting weight from his back foot to his lead, twisting slightly to keep his angle unpredictable. Rank 299 was watching now, more carefully, expecting something fast. Xavier could see the tension in his posture—the way his muscles coiled slightly, preparing to react.
'Nah. Not yet.'
Xavier slowed. Just a little.
Rank 299 blinked.
A hesitation.
And then Xavier snapped forward.
A burst of speed. He drove a low kick into Rank 299's thigh—a strike meant to wear down his mobility, to keep him from launching forward with power. Rank 299 grunted at the impact, trying to reset—
Xavier didn't give him time.
A sharp hook. A pivot. A snap-kick to the side.
Contact.
Rank 299's stance wavered.
'That's it. Just a little more.'
Then—
The final opening.
Xavier saw it.
Reacted instantly.
A clean, brutal hook straight into Rank 299's temple.
Solid impact.
Rank 299's balance shattered.
He staggered.
His legs buckled.
Then—
He collapsed.
Breathing hard. Dazed. The fight leaving his body as realization settled in.
Silence.
It stretched across the crowd, rippling outward from the center of the ring.
Xavier stood there, catching his breath, gaze steady.
Then, without looking back, he muttered—
"They call it impossible. I call it done."