Chetan's heart lifted as he saw Alexandre collapse to the ground. He let out a wheezing laugh, and bloody spit bubbled out over his teeth.
It was impossible to ignore that he, himself, was also in a terrible state. That first punch of Alexandre's had done terrible damage to him. The added use of his [Berserk] skill had further served to push him past what he thought was possible. The truth of the matter was that, if Chetan had been an ordinary human, he'd have been dead long ago. Even still, he was barely holding onto consciousness, barely staying on his feet.
Swaying, trying desperately to control his body, Chetan forced himself to turn to the referee and call out, "Mr. Arbitrator! You must call a medical team immediately. My opponent is seriously injured! I've obviously hit his intestines!'
But the referee seemed too shocked to answer. Moreover, the rest of the crowd had gone silent… or was Chetan just finally falling into unconsciousness, his senses slipping away from him? This didn't make sense for the moment of someone's triumphant victory after a hard fight…
Then Chetan turned his head.
Alexandre was standing again, partially hunched over, both blades still jammed into his body. His vicious gut wound dripped blood and shit onto the dusty ground, and the smacking plops of stinking fluid were the only sound in the arena.
Chetan gasped, "Impossible!"
Alexandre raised his arms to grip the handle of each blade. He dragged the weapons out of his body almost lazily, as though to emphasize the horror of the sight, and there wasn't a single trace of pain on his face. The young man opened his bloody fists and the blades fell for barely a moment before dematerializing due to the link they shared with their master.
Chetan felt himself shaking, but he could neither stop this nor force his body to move. He'd drained every bit of energy he had remaining. Even raising his arms would've been a superhuman effort he was just not capable of.
Unfortunately for him, it seemed that Alexandre still had a bit more energy. He put one foot after another and slowly marched toward his prey, looking more like a Zombie than a Hunter.
Tears of terror ran down Chetan's face as the monster stalked toward him. "I… I give up…" he tried to whisper, but all that came out was a choked gurgle of spit and blood.
Yet… For a moment, Alexandre stopped. He stared into Chetan's face as though he'd heard exactly what his opponent had said. Then he gave a bitter laugh and slammed an armored fist into Chetan's chest with far more strength than it had seemed was still available to him.
Chetan went flying outside the bounds of the arena, immediately disqualifying him. However, his opponent didn't seem to care, but instead charged after him.
Alexandre dropped down and straddled Chetan's chest, letting intestines and bile spill out over his opponent's chest. Then he raised one fist and slammed it into Chetan's face… and then the other into his already-broken sternum… and then again and again, savagely beating his helpless prey without a care for anything around him. Flesh pulped; metal crumpled; bones shattered.
At long last, the referee got between them and with tremendous effort tore Alexandre away from Chetan. "The duel's over! You won! Stop this aggression immediately!"
Alexandre, his face covered in blood, gave a horrific smile. "You should have said that straight away!" He got to his feet and pulled away from the referee, then glared directly at the arena director's box. Alexandre thought firmly to himself that this violence hadn't been the result of any kind of sadistic tendency within himself, and of course he had no particular grudge against Chetan. No, this had been because he needed to show the administrators what happened when they screwed with him, as they had here by putting the spotlight on him.
The message was clear: "Play any more tricks like this one, and there'll be blood!"
The referee nervously said into the microphone, "Erm, the winner is William Walton! What an amazing upset! The rookie crusher has finally been defeated by the very person he planned on crushing…"
As the announcer kept rambling, the medics poured onto the field and started tending to the two participants. The first medic to look at Chetan was surprised that the man was still alive, but then noticed something peculiar…
It was almost as if, despite the savage beating everyone had just witnessed, every one of Alexandre's attacks had been carefully calculated not to cause lethal damage. The bones of Chetan's face were broken, but not in a way that would risk bone shards entering the brain. There were many broken ribs, but no direct blows to the heart.
Indeed, if Alexandre had wanted to truly kill his prey, there would have been no cat and mouse game, no dance of attacking and parrying. The first blow would've severed an artery or crushed the man's skull. In the end, Alexandre held no grudge against the rookie crusher Chetan Ambani.