Chương 95: Chapter 94 - Alpha (LVI)

Ayu stared at him between ragged breaths, her body drenched in sweat. That was intense. Twelve rounds! She had to give him credit—though he somehow managed to lose every single one, at least he had the stamina. Alonso was sprawled on the ground, catching his breath while lying on a rock. He had told her to give him two hours, then they would spar again. Yes, because apparently, twelve rounds weren't enough for him. But something felt off about those rounds.

At the start, Ayu noticed that while Alonso's movements weren't typical of someone with formal martial training, there was a certain natural skill to how he approached combat. His stances were reasonably well-built, and his control over his body was impressive. There was a raw talent there, even if it wasn't fully refined. However, his footwork was slightly off, and despite his sharp perception, he couldn't quite find that fluid flow state where instinct takes over.

His fighting style was more about carefully timed strikes and counters, relying on his excellent sense of distance and reaction, rather than the seamless rhythm that comes from years of practice. It was like watching someone who fought in a way they believed worked best, like following a textbook, but hadn't yet grasped the deeper art of combat—the mastery that bridges the gap between technique and true understanding. Alonso had the tools, but he hadn't yet unlocked their full potential.

He's good, no doubt, but he's missing the connection — the flow between movements that turns fighting into an art. All that said, without relying on his EM senses, the outcome should've been clear and quick: she should have won easily. But instead, he was moving fast, too fast. It was as if his stage of progress was higher than hers—something that made no sense, considering she had maxed out on every creature on the island, even the damn leeches. Yes, she won the first round, but something didn't feel right.

As the matches continued, she noticed him improving at an alarming, almost inhuman pace. His footwork, timing, perception—everything was getting sharper, as if he were some kind of martial prodigy suddenly born into combat. His movements were becoming more instinctive, more fluid. By the sixth round, he actually had the upper hand for a moment. It was ridiculous. She even began questioning if he had been faking his actual prowess. There was a moment where she felt a twinge of fear. If this kept up, would she lose?

She, who had refined her technique over years of training back in Thailand, lose to this white kid? It was insane. But then, after the seventh match, something changed. He started moving a bit slower, as if something was holding him back, even though his technique continued to improve. And now, after the twelfth match, she felt it again—he was nearly at her level... again! It just didn't add up. Still, sparring with him had been incredibly useful for her. It was a great way to polish her own foundations.

But even if Alonso reached her level, one thing was clear: Alonso would be absolutely trashed by Siddharth. There was no comparison, no suspense. That bald uncle was strong—frighteningly so. She sighed inwardly, glancing at Alonso, who was still lying on the rock, drenched in sweat, completely unaware of the storm he would soon face. Her only hope rested in Chiara. The odds of her convincing Siddharth were small but… miracles could happen, right?" So, how did it go?""

Well, there's definitely a unique blend of different styles combined into one for her own. Analyzing it all would take time, but with the 58% we've gathered, it should be enough for now. I mean, you're basically a blank slate at the moment—anything decent will work," Houston replied." So, I go to sleep, and you'll work on converting that to Phase 3?" Alonso asked, settling down." Yeah, yeah, leave it to your poor mental slave. Just make sure you don't dream—that's inefficient.

Just fall asleep, I'll wake you up," Houston said, not sarcastically. Alonso nodded. Those matches had really been intense, especially while having Overdrive active. He closed his eyes, and with Houston's assistance, quickly fell asleep. Ayu was calmly meditating when she noticed an EM image being sent her way—a hand waving hello. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. She smiled and opened her eyes to see Alonso waving at her with a goofy smile on his face.

She checked the time—sure enough, it had been just over two hours. Getting up from her spot, she walked over to the flat space they'd been using as an arena. She noticed a small audience gathered at a distance. Just some random onlookers… wait, was that Wang Jun? Well, well, look who's bored. The rich kid was definitely getting ignored by Chiara too much. Ayu couldn't help but laugh and sent him a wave, which he responded to with a rich-boy nod of his pale head.

Anyway, her attention shifted back to Alonso, who had also been looking in the same direction. She sent him an image of Wang Jun, portraying him as a member of their faction and Chiara's persistent admirer. Alonso shrugged and then sent her an image asking if she was ready for the spar, along with a sign of danger—a red skull. What was he trying to say? Was he warning her to be careful? Seriously. Well, show me then. Show me what I have to fear. But as they faced off again, Ayu felt something was off.

Wait, what is that stance? It almost looked like a variant of an Empty Stance. But this wasn't exactly it—it was a strange, modified version. What the hell? Before she could make sense of it, the spar began. Immediately, she noticed Alonso was moving slower than in their last round. But his technique… are you kidding me!? His swordsmanship was refined, controlled—ridiculously so. It was like he had somehow mastered martial arts while sleeping. What the fuck is this?

she thought, her mind racing as she parried a strike. His movements were smooth, seamless, and calculated. He wasn't just reacting—he was moving as if he knew exactly where she would strike. She swung at his side, but he'd already shifted, dodging before her blade even got close. She tried a feint, but Alonso was a step ahead, slipping out of range before she could close in. Was he predicting me? No way. The thought shook her.

She tried to get serious, tightening her focus, but it was like battling a ghost—or water. Every move she made, Alonso flowed around it, anticipating her attacks like he could see the future. One move got her distracted for a split second, and suddenly, she felt the cold steel of Alonso's sword lightly press against her neck. He stood there, flashing that goofy smile and blinking his eye like it was nothing. This guy!! Frustration bubbled up inside her.

Without hesitating, she asked for a rematch, determined to set things right. But this time, something was even more off—Alonso was moving slower. Was he toying with me? The fight began again, and it didn't take long for her to realize something shocking. He wasn't just using martial arts—he was using her martial arts! Every move he made, every step, was like a reflection of her own style, except it was sharper, more polished.

She could hardly believe what she was seeing as he easily outmaneuvered her, winning the round once more with almost no effort. She blinked, staring at him in disbelief. He didn't even seem winded. How? How did he evolve this quickly? How could someone, with no formal martial background, suddenly become a martial artist of this caliber overnight? Overnight? No—after a freaking two-hour break! They fought again, and once more, the result was the same.

Alonso's technique was flawless, his movements deliberate, precise—he fought like someone who had been practicing for years. What had happened? Did he somehow evolve during his sleep? Could this be... sudden enlightenment? She thought of the stories she'd heard in Thailand about monks who, after years of training and meditation, would suddenly awaken to a higher state of being, their skills and understanding growing exponentially in a single moment. Could that have happened to Alonso?

She stared at him, chest heaving, drenched in sweat. He smiled at her, as if this was all some kind of joke. But Ayu wasn't laughing. This wasn't just him improving—this was something else entirely. She remained there, unsure if she even wanted to spar anymore. Her eyes flicked to Alonso, who seemed so casual about what had just happened. And why was it that the slower he got, the better he fought?

Could he use this technique and godlike perception with the speed and reaction he had shown at the start, or were they trade-offs? If it was the former … she shuddered inwardly. Ayu tightened her grip on her sword. In any case, this was perfect training for her. She just had to put her all into it and—though it really got on her nerves—consider that she was fighting a fully-fledged martial master.

She raised her sword again, sending Alonso a mental image of herself fully determined, standing firm in front of a large storm, as if daring him to test her once more. His response was a playful wink and an image of him casually walking through the storm unharmed, hands in his pockets. This guy, she thought with a mix of annoyance and amusement. September 4, 2024 - Melbourne, Australia Of course, the old man knew she hated English speakers, yet he sends her to Australia of all places. Brilliant.

What was Terry doing that he couldn't handle this instead? As the private jet landed, she stood up, adjusting her mask. She sighed. Hopefully, this Alonso would die quickly so she could get out of here and back to civilization where she belonged. Every second here was a second too long.