A Warrior's Resolve
Izuku gritted his teeth, his ribs burning from the impact. The air had been forced from his lungs, but his body—scarred by years of hardship—refused to collapse. Pain was an old friend. A reminder that he was still alive.
The third knight narrowed his eyes, stepping forward with calculated precision. He wasn't like the others. He was patient, a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
The muscular knight was still recovering from Izuku's counter, clutching his ribs. The spearman circled, his stance ready, eyes sharp. They weren't underestimating him anymore.
Good.
Izuku exhaled, forcing himself to move despite the pain. His mind raced. He couldn't overpower them—not with his current body. But he didn't need to. He just needed to outthink them.
A Strategy of Survival
The spearman struck first, thrusting forward with the speed of a viper. Izuku twisted his torso just enough to avoid a direct hit, but the wooden spearhead scraped against his forearm, sending a sharp jolt of pain through his nerves.
[Endurance +0.5%]
His eyes flickered to the side. The third knight was still watching, waiting. He was the real danger. The moment Izuku showed an opening, he would finish this fight in a single strike.
Izuku made a decision.
He lunged toward the spearman, ignoring the pain screaming through his limbs. His sudden aggression caught the knight off guard. The spearman tried to pull back, but Izuku was already too close.
He grabbed the spear shaft with both hands and yanked it downward.
The spearman stumbled.
Izuku struck, driving his knee into the man's stomach. The knight gasped, his grip loosening for just a moment.
That moment was all Izuku needed.
He twisted the spear out of the knight's hands and spun around—just in time to intercept the incoming greatsword.
The Turning Point
The muscular knight roared, bringing his weapon down in a crushing arc.
Izuku raised the spear horizontally, using it to deflect the attack. The impact sent vibrations through his arms, his bones screaming in protest. But he held firm.
The knight's momentum was broken. He was off balance.
Izuku took his chance.
He stepped in close and slammed the butt of the spear into the knight's gut.
The man coughed violently, staggering backward. His grip loosened.
Izuku didn't let him recover.
With a sharp pivot, he swept the spear low, smashing it against the knight's ankle. The man lost his footing and collapsed onto his knees.
One opponent neutralized.
But there was no time to celebrate.
The third knight finally moved.
The Final Clash
Izuku barely had time to react as the disciplined knight lunged, his wooden sword a blur of motion.
Too fast.
Izuku raised his stolen spear, but the knight anticipated it. He feinted, redirecting his attack mid-motion.
The wooden blade struck Izuku's left shoulder with brutal precision.
A sickening crack echoed.
Izuku bit down hard, refusing to scream.
[Pain Resistance +1.2%]
[Pain Resistance: 9.05%]
His vision blurred, but his mind remained clear.
He couldn't block. He couldn't take another direct hit.
So he didn't.
Instead, he did what no trained knight would expect.
He dropped the spear.
The knight's eyes widened.
Izuku lunged—barehanded.
The knight swung again, but Izuku twisted his body mid-air, narrowly avoiding the strike. His hands shot forward, grabbing the knight's arm.
With every ounce of strength he had left, he pulled the knight forward while twisting his own body.
A perfectly executed throw.
The knight's balance shattered.
He crashed into the ground, his wooden sword skidding across the dirt.
Izuku didn't hesitate.
He straddled the knight's chest and raised his fist.
One punch.
Two punches.
Three punches.
The knight struggled, but Izuku didn't stop. His fists came down with relentless fury. Each strike carried the weight of his suffering, his determination, his will to survive.
The knight finally stilled.
The Aftermath
Silence filled the training grounds.
Izuku's chest heaved, his body trembling from exhaustion. Blood dripped from his knuckles—whether his own or the knight's, he didn't know.
Varyn watched, golden eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Well done," he said, slow claps echoing through the chamber. "You survived."
Izuku didn't reply.
He simply stood, his body screaming in protest, his breaths shallow.
He had won.
But more than that—he had proven himself.
He wasn't some weak child.
He wasn't a victim.
He was a warrior.
And this was only the beginning.
To Be Continued…