Darno was faring far better than he had expected with his newly changed body, and the realization that his bones would not shatter under Jett’s grip gave him a special kind of confidence, one he had never possessed before. It was not arrogance, nor was it recklessness. It was certainty. The kind that allowed him to fight without holding anything back.
Jett swung again, a heavy arm cutting through the air with enough force to snap ribs if it landed cleanly. Darno moved exactly as his training dictated. His feet stayed planted. His stance remained solid. His forearms came up at just the right angle, and with a sharp, controlled motion, he knocked the strike away at the wrist.
At the same time, his other hand shot forward.
Thud.
His fist slammed into Jett’s chest, right over the sternum, the impact producing a dull, echoing sound that reverberated through the hall. It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t dramatic. But it was effective.
Again and again, Darno repeated the same pattern.
Block. Counter. Reset.
He deflected Jett’s arms with precise movements, striking immediately afterward, his punches landing primarily on Jett’s chest. It was the most direct path. The most efficient route. Especially after a block, it was the safest target to reach without overextending himself.
Yet even as Darno continued to execute his movements with near perfection, something gnawed at the back of his mind.
He inhaled deeply, controlling his breath, feeling the strain beginning to creep in.
There’s a problem...
’I only had a short time with my teacher,’ Darno thought as he knocked another punch aside. ’And even though he helped me progress so much, there’s still one thing this takes a lot of...’
Another strike. Another block. Another counter.
This takes a lot of stamina.
It had always been an issue for him, even before he became a superhuman. Darno had never been one for long, drawn-out fights. He won quickly, decisively, overwhelming his opponents before exhaustion could set in.
But this fight was different.
What Darno hadn’t realized before was that stamina was an issue for most superhumans.
They felt stronger. Faster. More capable than ever. Yet their bodies still paid a price for using that power. Muscles burned. Lungs screamed. Hearts raced.
Some individuals had it easier.
Joe, for instance, had one of the best stamina foundations Darno had ever seen, and his ability didn’t tax his body directly in prolonged combat.
Max was another exception. His power enhanced everything evenly, scaling with his vow and wealth, giving him a balance that others lacked.
Darno, on the other hand, was different.
’It’s something I really should’ve focused on,’ Darno thought bitterly as he blocked another blow. ’But my lazy arse never thought I needed to try harder. I always won anyway.’
He clenched his jaw.
Now, that carelessness was coming back to bite him.
As the fight dragged on, Darno found his thoughts drifting, dangerously so, to his vow.
It was powerful. Perfectly suited to him. Yet it came with restrictions that could easily become fatal in the wrong situation.
For one, he could never strike first.
No matter how much someone insulted him. No matter how much they provoked him. No matter how furious he became, he could not attack unless he was attacked first.
If an opponent knew that, they could taunt him endlessly, push him, threaten him, and Darno would be forced to endure it.
The incident where he had struck a fan while acting as a bodyguard, something that haunted him, could never happen again.
Why am I thinking about all this now? Darno snapped internally. Focus.
Jett came in again, this time with a heavier swing. Darno blocked, but instead of striking Jett’s chest, his fist shifted slightly, angling upward.
His knuckles drove toward Jett’s neck.
It was a calculated choice.
Before the punch could land, Jett reacted instantly, his massive hand snapping shut around Darno’s fist.
Got him.
"I might not be able to break your bones," Jett growled, tightening his grip, "but I can definitely do something else."
His other hand clamped down on Darno’s forearm, and with a sudden burst of strength, Jett lifted Darno clean off the ground, just like he had done to Stephen earlier.
Darno had no footing. No leverage.
A split second later, his body was slammed into the floor.
BOOM.
The impact cracked the floor beneath them, the sound far louder than when Stephen had been thrown down. Shockwaves rippled outward, causing several spectators to recoil in their seats.
Dust rose into the air.
Jett stepped back, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling.
The guests roared in excitement. No one rushed in to interfere. No one called for help. The spectacle was too good.
Even Darius remained seated, watching closely. With Stephen already down and Max seemingly cornered, there was no immediate reason for concern.
But Jett frowned.
Something wasn’t right.
As Darno lay there for a brief moment, Jett realized the truth.
That impact... it wasn’t stronger because I threw him harder.
His eyes narrowed.
He’s heavier.
Not in mass, but in density.
Jett flexed his fingers.
’I don’t think I can do that again and again,’ he realized. ’My arms are already feeling it.’
Slowly, Darno pushed himself up from the floor.
The cracks beneath him were deeper now, spiderwebbing outward from where he had landed.
He rolled his shoulders, then stood.
"That hurt," Darno said, exhaling sharply. "But... not as much as I thought it would."
A grin spread across his face.
"I guess I’ve got quite the special body."
He raised his fingers and curled them toward himself, beckoning Jett forward.
"Come on, you piggy," Darno said mockingly. "Come at me with all you’ve got."
Then, with a smirk, he added, "Or are you going to run out of breath just walking over here?"
Despite his bravado, Darno’s lungs burned. His breaths were coming faster now, heavier. His body felt dense, solid, but moving it took effort.
Jett snarled.
"Argh! You think you’ve won just because I’ve been playing with you?"
He lowered his stance, muscles tensing, then suddenly charged forward, not throwing a punch, not swinging an arm, but driving his entire body toward Darno like a raging bull.
Darno’s eyes widened.
Ah, shit.
’I was expecting him to run in and throw a punch... but is he going to tackle me?’
His vow echoed in his mind.
You must never dodge.
His feet stayed planted.
How the hell am I supposed to block a charging mountain of meat?