Aiko whirled around, the thunderous crack of the falling tree still ringing in her ears. Seeing Zen on the ground with Zanka looming over him like a starving wolf, her instincts took over. She lunged forward to interpose herself, but Zen caught her movement. He threw out a trembling hand, signaling her to stay back.
(I don't know who this freak is,) Zen thought, his heart hammering against his cracked ribs. (But if I let Aiko step in, he'll break her. I can't let her get caught in this.)
"I got this," Zen grunted, his voice tight with pain. He forced himself to his feet, but when he looked back, the space where Zanka had been standing was empty.
A shadow fell over him. Zen threw himself sideways just as Zanka descended from the air like a falling meteor. His fist slammed into the earth, the impact cratering the dirt and sending spiderweb fractures through the soil. Zen scrambled back, his brow furrowed in a deep frown.
"What the hell is your deal? Who are you?" Zen spat.
Zanka didn't answer with words. He let out a soft, jagged laugh that was barely more than a whisper before exploding forward again. He launched a brutal hook; Zen ducked, the wind of the punch whistling over his hair. Zanka followed up with a vicious uppercut, but Zen deflected it with his forearm—the impact vibrating through his bone—and pivoted. As Zanka threw a lightning-fast jab, Zen twisted his torso, the knuckles grazing his cheek, and countered with a roundhouse kick aimed squarely at Zanka's jaw.
The connection was solid. A sickening crack echoed—partially from Zanka's jaw, and partially from the small bones in Zen's foot fracturing under the force of hitting something that felt like solid granite. Zanka was sent skidding back, a single drop of blood leaking from his nostril.
He didn't look angry. He wiped the blood away and laughed. "Now... this is what I'm talking about," Zanka hissed, his predatory gaze locked onto Zen's throat.
Zen retreated into a defensive stance, his breath coming in shallow hitches. (I just kicked him with everything I had left, and he's smiling? Who is this guy?)
Before Zanka could charge again, a frantic voice cut through the tension. "STOP!"
The examination supervisor stumbled toward them, gasping for air, with Raizen strolling casually behind him. Zen felt a wave of relief wash over him. (Finally. Whoever this guy is, he's in deep trouble now.)
The supervisor glared at Zanka, his face flushed with indignation. "Fighting among yourselves is a major offense! The exam is on pause, yet you're swinging fists and you've destroyed a protected landmark! Disruption of nature! What do you have to say for yourself?"
Zanka turned his head slowly, looking at the supervisor with pure, unadulterated disgust. "Why is this weakling talking to me?"
As the supervisor opened his mouth to shout back, Raizen's hand heavy-handedly clamped onto his shoulder. "Let me handle this," the Elite said, stepping forward with a manic glint in his eyes. He looked at Zanka, then at Zen. "You want to fight? Well, who am I to say no?"
"What?" the supervisor and Zen shouted in unison, their voices filled with total confusion.
Raizen ignored them, raising his voice so the other candidates could hear. "Everyone, clear the area! We're about to watch these two throw down!"
Aiko's face went pale. She wanted to scream at the insanity of it, but she knew better than to cross Raizen. Zanka cracked his knuckles, his excitement reaching a fever pitch. "Finally. This is happening. You don't know how long I've waited for this day, Zen."
Zen adjusted his injured shoulder, his expression hardening. "I don't know you, but if this is how it's going to be... fine. Bring it on."
Zanka didn't wait. He blurred into motion, a living blur of muscle and scars. He threw a punch that Zen barely dodged, answering with a strike of his own that Zanka slipped. They exchanged a flurry of blows, a chaotic dance of grit. Zen found a momentary opening and channeled every ounce of his remaining strength into a straight right, landing it square on Zanka's face.
Zanka's head snapped back, but his feet didn't move. He didn't even flinch. He just kept pushing forward as if the punch hadn't even happened.
Zen froze for a split second, his eyes widening in awe at the sheer, inhuman endurance. That second was all Zanka needed. He lunged into Zen's guard and drove a fist deep into Zen's ribs.
The sound of snapping bone was unmistakable. Blood sprayed from Zen's mouth as the air was punched out of his lungs, and he was sent flying backward, his body skipping across the dirt like a stone.