BOOM…
The air scattered violently as Mr. Jaggers rushed forward, his figure blurring with speed. His movement was so fast it looked like he teleported, appearing right before Socrates in an instant, the ground beneath him cracking faintly from the force.
A fist, already tightly clenched and wrapped in swirling green energy, tore through the air as he threw it at Socrates' face—only for the latter to block it with both of his fists, crossing them instinctively.
Break…
1 step… 2 steps… 3 steps… 4 steps… 5 steps…
Socrates was forced backward five steps in a single second, his boots scraping harshly against the golden surface as the magnetic gauntlet on his hands cracked and broke apart under the overwhelming intensity of Mr. Jaggers' strike. Fragments of metal scattered across the stage.
Before he could even think, the former was already on him again. This time with a downward strike that came crashing from above, aimed directly at his forehead like a falling hammer.
Socrates reacted instantly. His speed was not in any way inferior to that of Mr. Jaggers as he pivoted leftward, narrowly dodging the punch, which dragged Mr. Jaggers' body forward with its momentum.
He lashed out with a kick, but he was surprised to see how quickly Mr. Jaggers reacted.
The man was no longer where he had been just a second ago.
He had already repositioned—this time behind Socrates—his elbow driving forward in a crushing strike.
Socrates reacted instinctively, twisting his body around while launching his own punch, which collided directly with the elbow of the middle-aged man.
Mr. Jaggers winced slightly but did not let that stop him. He launched another blow immediately, which was met with Socrates' own punch.
BLOW… BLOW…
BOOM… BOOM…
The air kept rippling violently as the duo exchanged punches in rapid succession, each strike distorting the space around them. Their movements were so fast, so relentless, that even the Blue Projectile found it difficult to keep up with their intensity.
Some they managed to dodge…
Some they managed to block…
Some hit…
While some failed to connect completely…
No one was having the upper hand as the two men seemed to be exerting all their force in one continuous exchange, neither willing to yield.
And in less than five minutes, the two men combined had traded more than four hundred blows, their bodies trembling under the accumulated strain.
In the next moment, they both retreated backward, creating distance between them as their chests rose and fell heavily. The energy in their bodies faded visibly, the violent aura that once surrounded them thinning out as they had used up a great deal of energy, and fatigue began to settle deep into their bones.
All their bodies felt numb, muscles screaming in protest, but the duo still wore defiant expressions on their faces, their eyes locked with unwavering resolve.
They launched at each other once again.
Socrates, with blinding speed, threw an overhead punch, his fist cutting through the air—but Mr. Jaggers bent slightly, his movements minimal yet precise, as he drove his elbow straight into the chest of the red-haired teenager.
The impact was brutal.
Socrates was sent crashing into the translucent barrier, the glass-like surface rippling violently as he struck it, before sliding down and landing heavily on the floor, his body slumped beside the two axes lying nearby.
Mr. Jaggers immediately launched toward him at great speed, his leg muscles tensing as he exerted force, attempting to smash Socrates' head out of the realm of the living with a decisive stomp.
But at that exact moment, Socrates grabbed one of the axes and flung it toward him in a swift, desperate motion.
This forced Mr. Jaggers to change his trajectory mid-motion. He twisted his body in the air, flipping cleanly over the incoming axe, avoiding it by a hair's breadth, before catching it and turning instantly toward Socrates' direction.
But Socrates was no longer there.
Nor was the second axe that had been lying on the floor.
A cold sensation crept up the back of Mr. Jaggers' neck. Instinct took over. He turned around instantly, swinging his axe in a wide arc.
CLANG…
The casual swing collided with another axe, the force of the impact sending vibrations through both weapons as Socrates was pushed two steps backward, his feet grinding against the surface.
The red-haired teenager had already picked up the second axe, dashed behind him, and launched a downward strike.
If not for Mr. Jaggers' sharp reaction, the blade of the axe would have cleanly severed his neck.
The duo rushed at each other again. Axe against axe, they clashed violently, metal screaming against metal. Sparks flew as their strikes collided repeatedly.
But as the seconds passed, the orange glow surrounding Socrates' body began to fade, its intensity dimming as his energy drained.
Socrates struck again, but Mr. Jaggers met his attack head-on, exerting more force. The sheer weight and mastery behind the axe overwhelmed Socrates, forcing his grip to loosen until he dropped it.
Socrates was not an axe user. Mr. Jaggers was highly proficient with the weapon, and it was only natural that Socrates could not compare in that regard.
Before the red-haired teenager could regain his balance, the blade of Mr. Jaggers' axe slightly bypassed his head and plunged into part of his shoulder.
"Aaahh…!" Socrates screamed loudly as pain exploded through his body, his joint dislocating under the force.
Mr. Jaggers moved fluidly. He used his leg to kick up the other axe from the ground, caught it with his left hand, and with his right hand lifted Socrates—who was pinned by the axe—off the ground.
Many times…
The Blue Projectile analyzed…
Many times, Mr. Jaggers' lethal attacks had slightly missed Socrates…
Attacks that were supposed to cause critical damage—Socrates barely escaped them each time…
Why was that?
Not only did the Blue Projectile ask this question, but so did the spectators, their eyes narrowing as they observed the exchange unfolding before them.
Those watching the battle could all agree on one thing…
Socrates was no match for the middle-aged man…
Yet, he was able to keep up with the man's pace and energy…
The attacks of the middle-aged man barely missing him…
But now—what would happen?
The orange glow surrounding Socrates had completely faded. His body had gone numb, his strength nearly depleted. Blood flowed steadily from his shoulder, soaking the axe embedded deep into his flesh, ignoring even the protective function of the mechanical suit.
And Mr. Jaggers raised his axe.
He slashed it down toward Socrates' head—a strike meant to decapitate him instantly.
But…
At that moment, it was as if his grip loosened ever so slightly. His hand shifted just enough to alter the trajectory.
The blade missed Socrates' head—
And struck directly into his chest instead.
Socrates' body was catapulted backward, crashing into the translucent barrier. This time, he did not rebound.
A sharp crack spread across the glass surface, fractures branching outward from the point of impact. The wall seemed to hold him in place as blood seeped from his chest, staining the surface, while his blue eyes slowly lost their color.
The Blue Projectile stretched out its hand, as if signaling that it had noticed what had just occurred.
Mr. Jaggers had used a loophole to bypass the rule many times…
But this time—it was obvious.
Yet, perhaps because he was a golden token holder, the Blue Projectile still did not act.
But Mr. Jaggers clearly knew—another hesitation would lead to the death of both him and Socrates.
He also wanted to live…
He wanted to save the boy…
But he desired to live too…
He had things to do…
He had a reason to be here…
There was a reason he had chosen to become a Gladiator…
"Boy… Brace yourself… This ends now, or we both die…"
Mr. Jaggers steadied his stance, his grip tightening around both axes as he spoke, his voice carrying a heavy finality.
Socrates, who could not even move a bit, could only watch as Mr. Jaggers gathered energy into both axes, preparing to end his life.
The life of Socrates flashed before him as Mr. Jaggers pointed both axes to the sky, green energy gathering around them in violent spirals, distorting the air and casting an eerie glow across the shattered stage.
"EARTH CLEAVING STRIKE…"
The sky rumbled almost immediately, a deep, resonating vibration spreading across the arena as Mr. Jaggers brought down his axes with overwhelming force.
Two green lines of energy extended outward from the strike, tearing through the air before crashing into the ground. They surged forward in a straight, unstoppable momentum, causing the golden surface to split apart as two massive cracks formed and rushed toward Socrates without hesitation.
Debris and dust were violently uprooted as the energy lines advanced, scattering everything in their path. The air itself seemed to shatter under the pressure, unable to withstand the sheer force of the attack.
Break…
The wall of the barrier rippled violently as the energy reached it, fractures spreading rapidly across its surface.
SHATTER…!
The sound exploded across the arena as the barrier finally broke apart, shards of translucent glass scattering outward like fragments of light.
The spectators rose to their feet instantly—
But not because of the shattered barrier.
Their attention had already shifted.
At that exact moment, they noticed a flash of orange electric glow that appeared behind Mr. Jaggers at the very last second, flickering like a dying flame that refused to go out.
Mr. Jaggers sensed it.
The air behind him twisted subtly—just enough to alert him. He turned around—
Too late.
A dagger pierced deep into his heart.
The impact was clean, precise.
The axe in his grip tightened instinctively as the attacker retreated four steps backward immediately, leaving the dagger buried deep within his chest, its hilt trembling slightly.
He raised his head slowly.
His eyes met Socrates'.
The red-haired teenager stood there, battered, bloodied, barely standing—yet his gaze burned with defiance.
Mr. Jaggers raised his head as well, his expression… calm.
Then—he smiled.
A faint smile at first… then wider.
His aura exploded outward.
Green energy burst from his body in violent waves, surging upward like a storm breaking free. The pressure alone forced many spectators to rise from their seats, their expressions shifting from excitement to shock.
Even the Blue Projectile seemed momentarily taken aback by the sheer magnitude of energy being released.
"This energy… Candidate 160 is breaking through to the first realm… He's advancing to the First Stage of Energy Condensation," a spectator announced, his voice carrying across the arena.
Mr. Jaggers' violent energy surged toward the sky, shaking the very air itself, while the pressure alone nearly pushed the already battered Socrates into unconsciousness, his body trembling under the overwhelming force.