Nico, always the more emotional one, clenched his fists. "Wait," he said angrily. "Didn't he say he was just an orphan studying abroad? Why did he pretend to be scared and refuse to fight back then? Did he let Kirana fight on her own on purpose? Bastard!"
Sana tried to calm Nico, though doubt also clouded her face. "Maybe he had his reasons," she said softly, though her words sounded more like an attempt to convince herself.
Meanwhile, Arpin was still unconvinced. His gaze remained sharp, like a knife ready to strike. "I don't believe you," he said coldly. "You could be lying."
Arga, unshaken by the pressure, extended his hand and revealed a gold ring with intricate engravings. "Alright, do you recognize this ring?" he asked, his voice full of challenge.
Ayato and Arpin exchanged confused glances, their uncertainty evident on their faces.
Arga scanned the hall, his eyes searching for someone. "Is there anyone here who graduated from a military academy or served as a soldier?" he asked.
A man from the crowd raised his hand and stepped forward. His physique was solid, his hair streaked with gray in places, but his sharp eyes resembled those of a hawk. "I graduated from a military academy," he said, his tone calm yet firm.
Arga handed him a ring. "Do you recognize this ring?"
The man examined the ring carefully, his rough fingers moving delicately over the intricate engravings on its surface. After a moment, he nodded. "Yes, I do. If this ring is genuine, then he is indeed a military academy graduate." He returned the ring to Arga, adding with a serious tone, "I can vouch for it."
However, Arpin remained unconvinced. He shook his head, his expression hard. "That alone isn't enough. I need more proof to trust you."
The hall fell silent. All eyes turned to the two figures standing in the center of the room, which now felt like a makeshift arena. On one side, Arga stood with a lean but firm posture. His face remained calm, though the tension in the air was palpable. On the other side was a massive man with intimidating muscles bulging beneath his training attire. A sly grin spread across the big man's face as he rolled his shoulders, the sound of his joints cracking adding to the tension.
"Are you ready?" the burly man asked as he stepped forward, his voice deep and brimming with confidence.
Arga gave a slight nod, his gaze steady and devoid of emotion. He removed his long coat, revealing a lean but sturdy build. "I'm ready."
The crowd began to murmur, with some voices rising above the whispers. "Can he really take down someone that big?" one person asked skeptically, while others watched Arga with doubtful eyes.
"Begin!" Ayato shouted, raising his hand to signal the start. The murmurs turned into an uproar as the hall transformed into a stage for an intense battle.
Arga stood at the center of the circle, his body taut but his face composed. The tension in the air was almost tangible, thick with a mix of anticipation and doubt. The small cheers from the crowd faded into silence as the big man stepped forward, his grin exuding overconfidence.
The large man lunged forward immediately, throwing a straight punch aimed at Arga's head with impressive speed and force. Arga swiftly dodged to the side, his body moving like a whisper of wind, barely noticeable. He took two steps back to create some distance, but his opponent pressed on relentlessly. A sweeping kick aimed at Arga's ribs caused the air around them to ripple.
Arga spun his body, narrowly avoiding the kick. He ducked low, his feet shifting quickly to change positions. Cheers erupted from the crowd again, creating a tense rhythm that echoed off the hall's walls. The big man smiled smugly, his face brimming with satisfaction as Arga appeared pressured. "All you're doing is dodging," he mocked. "Is that all you've got, black belt?"
Without responding, Arga moved forward suddenly. He aimed a punch at his opponent's chest, but the big man easily caught it, his strong hand clamping down on Arga's wrist. With a powerful motion, he pulled Arga closer and threw him to the ground. Arga's body hit the floor hard, drawing gasps of shock from the crowd.
Arga winced but quickly rolled to the side before the big man could stomp on him. With agility, he got back on his feet, his body slightly crouched in a defensive stance. His opponent chuckled, advancing again with another punch. This time, Arga didn't just dodge. He lowered his body, capitalizing on the punch's momentum, and used his opponent's weight against him to bring him down. The big man crashed to the ground but quickly rose, his expression now turning serious.
"You're quite cunning," he muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead.
The fight intensified. Arga moved with agility, evading attack after attack, though his fatigue began to show. The big man continued to press forward, using his strength to try and throw Arga off balance. At one point, a hard punch landed on Arga's shoulder, pushing him back several steps. His breathing grew heavier, while his opponent seemed to grow more confident.
"You're going to lose," the big man taunted as he launched another attack.
But Arga's eyes glimmered with undeniable determination. The crowd began to quiet, as if sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Arga took a deep breath, his stance shifting, and a new energy seemed to flow through him. The fight was far from over, and everyone in the hall knew the decisive moment was near.
Just when the crowd began to doubt Arga's chances of enduring much longer, something changed. Arga suddenly stopped moving, standing upright with focused eyes. He steadied his breathing and assumed a fighting stance unfamiliar to most in the hall. His feet lowered slightly, his right hand clenched into a fist while his left hand remained open, ready to attack and defend in one fluid motion.
"What is that?" someone in the crowd whispered. "That's not karate."
The big man hesitated for a moment but didn't stop. He charged forward with a heavy punch aimed at Arga's face. This time, Arga didn't dodge. Instead, he stepped forward to meet the attack. With precise and swift movements, he turned his body, blocked the punch with his elbow, and delivered a spinning kick that struck the side of his opponent's head.
The big man stumbled sideways, his face betraying shock. Before he could recover, Arga unleashed a series of rapid attacks—short punches, low kicks, and spinning movements that resembled a deadly dance. His opponent couldn't keep up with the rhythm, his massive frame becoming a disadvantage that Arga exploited masterfully.
"What is he doing?" Ayato muttered, his eyes wide.