And in order to end it, his only option was to move forward and keep attacking. It was simple, but it might have been the best way out of the situation. I agreed with his decision to be aggressive rather than to wait and see what Sauzan would do. Anzel would not be able to win a battle of endurance. Their difference in base strength would definitely start to show.
Oh?
“Anzel has come to a stop. He’s raised his hand. Is he...forfeiting?”
What? What happened? Is something wrong?
Such an unusual action shocked both myself and the audience, but... Ah.
“Anzel is removing his clothes. They appear to have been getting in the way.”
After taking off his shirt, he dumped it at the edge of the ring. His beautifully toned muscles were now on full display. Though he was on the slender side, the work he’d put in was clear. Countless bruises already littered his body.
After he smoothed his hair back...the match started once again.
Though Anzel had stripped, nothing had particularly changed. Anzel kept pushing forward and Sauzan kept deflecting him. Despite that, he didn’t stop.
And then I realized. Anzel...was slowly adapting.
The wounds on his body were only increasing, and I was pretty sure that on a technical level, Anzel was a few steps behind.
And yet, he was almost certainly starting to dodge Sauzan’s counters. Sauzan’s offense, the way he maneuvered, the way he struck his sword—Anzel was learning all of it.
My opinion had not changed: Martial artists found the most improvement in a close match. Through battle, one learned their opponent. Through learning their opponent, they learned themselves. The closer they were in strength, the more their opponent was a reflection of themselves, allowing them to see clearly what their strengths and weaknesses were.
Anzel’s pipework was slowly starting to mirror Sauzan’s swordplay. It was becoming sharper, more direct. There was gradually less excessive movement and force, each strike becoming more efficient.
Beautiful.
This was what it meant to be a martial artist. In a fight where your opponent was only slightly stronger than yourself, you learned and grew within the fight and overpowered them. This was a shining example of a fight between two martial artists.
Though he still had to win. You’re letting him get too many hits in, Anzel.
Even if he was successfully dodging any hits to lethal areas, that damage was building up. That was how Gandolph ended up wrecking both of his arms. The damage to his insides had been bad, but the arms that had taken the brunt of the damage had been completely busted. If he hadn’t received magic treatment, there was no telling if he would’ve recovered fully from that.
And then there was the issue of time. The fight had been going on for long enough that Anzel would soon start struggling to manage his chi. I could already see it starting to waver. If he didn’t hurry up and try to get in his decisive hit, he’d lose, and without making Sauzan even break a sweat.
What’s your plan, Anzel? Do you really intend to lose like this?
Anzel was starting to panic. He was nearing his limit. He’d been relentlessly striking at Sauzan, but he couldn’t break through. He’d been countered so many times that his body was aching. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure how he was still standing.
Despite that, his fighting spirit was only getting sharper. He was slowly becoming able to keep up with Sauzan’s movements. He was also vaguely getting the sense that Sauzan wasn’t even using all of his strength—he might have been viewing Anzel as someone unworthy of it.
Anzel was being underestimated. But he had a card up his sleeve that would fluster even this cool guy. He couldn’t use it yet, though. He had a feeling that if he tried to use it now, he would miss. And even if the attack did land, he’d need to make sure it hit directly, with every ounce of strength, or it wouldn’t take this man down. If he messed up, there was no way he’d win.
The time to release his trump card was when he was ready to end this. He had nothing else up his sleeve. It was win or bust. Mess up and he’d end up just like Lynette.
The problem was that he was failing to find a way to connect to it. He lacked offensive power, he couldn’t land a decisive blow, he couldn’t disrupt Sauzan’s defense. He couldn’t reach. He couldn’t get a single hit in. This man was steady. Just like Lynette, he was a steady, rigid, and boringly strong type of fighter. It wasn’t a fighting style that could captivate an audience, but it was one that exhibited firm fundamentals. He had no gimmicky moves nor big flashy finishers. His fundamentals were strong and that was it. Anzel never would’ve imagined a fighter like this could be so troublesome...
Anzel was approaching his limit. He was slowly struggling to control his chi. The second he completely lost control, this match would be over.
Before that happened, before he could no longer move, he had to fire off that trump card.
And then, all of a sudden, he had a realization.
No.
That’s not how I should use it.
Anzel had been thinking of nothing other than slamming his final move right into this irritating man’s face. But he realized that wasn’t how he should be thinking about it.
If he was going to use it, he needed to use it now. He should just use it specifically to break the man’s defenses. If he broke the man’s defense, nothing else mattered.
He’d crush him with all he had!
“Anzel has stopped once more.”
Right after I’d finished explaining what was happening, Anzel came to another stop. Last time, it was to remove his shirt, but this time... Ah, he’s got a plan, hasn’t he?
“Anzel has begun bending his metal pipe. I’m not sure what his plan is, but he appears to have thought of something.”
He’d grabbed his pipe at both ends and was slowly bending it in half. It was taking so much effort, the muscles in his arms were bulging. He glared at Sauzan, who simply watched him as he bent the pipe into a right angle.
“He threw it!”
Only to lead into an unexpected throw.
Anzel had taken his metal pipe and flung it at Sauzan with all his strength. Hey, what the hell are you doing? What do you even think you’ll achieve? Just because it looks a bit like a boomerang now doesn’t mean your pipe will come back.
Unsurprisingly, Sauzan showed not a single emotion as he easily dodged—
Thwack!
And then it hit him.
The pipe changed trajectory in midair and struck Sauzan. No, it was the other way around. It was because the pipe struck Sauzan that it changed trajectory.
That was external chi. Anzel had just extended his weapon in the way I’d taught him. He’d used external chi to extend the pipe’s range and then flung it.
At such a distance, he would only have needed to control the chi for a couple of seconds. And the extension was only about a fist’s worth. One did not have to be a master of chi to manage something as small as that. He’d thought this through.
The pipe was longer than expected, and it hit Sauzan, who was usually precise with his expectations. It had to be something Anzel had picked up on during the fight. Sauzan was a steady fighter—he never moved more than was necessary. That meant that he never dodged wide. He would always dodge as little as he felt he had to.
Anzel had read his opponent correctly.
And now...
“Eat shit!”
Now that Sauzan had been thrown off-balance with the unexpected strike, Anzel roared out loud as he leaped for his opponent. Anzel resummoned his pipe, once again perfectly straight and ready to whack someone to death.
“Oh, crap!”
I accidentally let out my fear when I saw Anzel leap forward without any hesitation. By the time I raised my voice, though, it was too late. With the way Anzel was leaning, Sauzan’s thrust was aimed right at Anzel’s throat.
A thrust to the throat is definitely deadly!
Despite being knocked off-balance, despite being hit by an unexpected attack, Sauzan was still calm. And in that calm, he’d chosen to counter.