Chapter 359: The Inexplicable Ground
His footwork was a butterfly, weightlessly dancing past the path of heavy
haymakers. His fists were the sting of a bee, piercing through the smallest of
gaps with surgical precision.
BOOM!
A bandage-wrapped fist slammed into Adam Dudley's cheek, sending a spray of
blood into the air. However, because of the angle of Adam's shoulder, the punch
didn't land cleanly on the point of his chin. The destructive power was halved
by the obstruction.
"..."
Adam's vision swam, his brain rattling within his skull. He relied on his
monstrous physical durability to grit his teeth, refusing to let his
consciousness slip away just yet.
"Hah—!"
He took a jagged breath, his eyes shot through with blood as he glared at Alai
Jr. like a demon from the lowest pit. He prepared a counter-assault.
But a heartbeat later—Whish!
The sting arrived again.
Alai Jr.'s feet blurred. He skipped to Adam's rear-left, his silhouette
momentarily overlapping with the brawler's. Using the torque of his hips and
core, he drove a left hook upward. His arm snaked beneath Adam's armpit, the
knuckles burying themselves into the soft tissue beneath the jaw.
CRACK!
Adam took the heavy blow, the force so great that his feet actually left the
sand. Every muscle in his body involuntarily slackened, entering a state of
total "Hit-Stun."
BONG!
Alai Jr. thinned his lips, his lead foot stomping the ground to pivot his
weight. He unleashed a massive right hook—a third definitive hit to the side of
Adam's face.
CRUNCH!
In that split second, Adam's head was whipped around with such violence that the
blood flying from his mouth carved a visceral, crimson arc in the air. He spun a
full three-hundred-and-sixty degrees in place before collapsing directly in
front of Alai Jr.
THUD—!
As Adam hit the sand, Alai Jr.'s rhythmic skipping finally stopped. He planted
his left foot firmly, his right toe touching the ground for balance. His spine
was straight, his fingers spread naturally, and his arms came to a perfectly
poised stop at his sides.
Under the blinding arena spotlights, his bronze skin shimmered, highlighting a
frame that was the perfect marriage of aesthetic beauty and explosive power.
"DOWN!! HE'S DOWN!!"
The announcer's voice was a thunderous roar over the speakers. "Alai Jr. has
dropped the Emperor of Texas Brawling with just three punches!! Incredible!!"
In the stands, the [KING OF STRANGLERS] Cosmo Imai stared with wide eyes, his
mind replaying the exchange at 60 frames per second.
"So that's it... the legendary 'Sting and Dance' of the Alai Style..."
The young genius couldn't help but run a mental simulation. If he were in that
ring, could he handle Alai Jr.?
"It would be... difficult," Cosmo muttered to himself. "If my reflexes were even
a millisecond off, I'd end up facedown just like Adam."
However, Marco, sitting beside him, suddenly spoke up. "No!"
Cosmo blinked. "What?"
Marco stared at the prone figure of Adam Dudley, his biological instincts
screaming a warning. "That tattooed big brother... he's still very dangerous!"
Cosmo looked confused. "What do you mean?"
In the ring, Alai Jr. was just about to raise his fist to signal his victory to
the crowd. Suddenly, a wave of cold dread washed over him. Out of the corner of
his eye, he caught a glimpse of a dark shadow moving.
Zip!
Alai Jr. instinctively snapped his head back.
A massive, upward-driving fist blurred past his face, missing his jaw by a
fraction of a millimeter.
"—?!"
Where did that come from? What was the angle?!
Alai Jr.'s eyes darted downward, and what he saw defied logic.
Adam Dudley, who should have been unconscious on his back, had dug his heels
into the sand. Without building momentum, without swaying, without using his
arms or performing a standard kip-up—he had used pure muscular force to hoist
his 107kg frame off the ground.
His body was arched backward like a steel spring, his torso forming a literal
"N" shape with the ground. It was from this impossible, gravity-defying posture
that he had launched that terrifying upward punch.
"W-What is that?!" the announcer shrieked. "Adam Dudley has risen from the dead
with a movement that shouldn't be humanly possible!!"
Alai Jr. was genuinely stunned.
Adam remained in that bridge-like posture, his shoulders nearly touching the
sand—a position where it was theoretically impossible to generate power. The
wounds on his face were still leaking blood, his mouth a mask of crimson.
Combined with his jagged, metallic "F-U-C-K" grin, he looked like a
slaughterhouse nightmare.
Zip—
Adam pulled his fist back, his arms hanging loose, but he stayed upright using
nothing but that reinforced-rebar spine.
Spit!
He coughed up a glob of bloody phlegm. "Too bad, pretty boy," he rasped. "You
were almost home."
Adam's eyes were locked onto Alai Jr., wide and unblinking. The pressure he
projected was a physical weight—a feral, predatory hunger that made a bead of
cold sweat roll down Alai Jr.'s neck.
"Ergh...!"
Whoosh!
Adam suddenly exerted force, snapping his body upright. Even though his entire
frame was trembling from pain, his fighting spirit hadn't dimmed an inch.
[Waiting Room]
Mitarai turned the page on his data tablet, continuing his briefing for Ren and
the others.
"Adam Dudley was the most notorious enforcer in the NHL—North America's
professional hockey league."
"In that sport, 'enforcing' is just a polite word for brawling on ice. It is the
only modern sport where fighting is effectively part of the game."
"However, KOs in hockey are rare. The reason is the ice itself. The friction
coefficient of a skating rink is a mere 0.005. An athlete on skates is
essentially fighting on a tightrope. Maintaining balance is so taxing that most
players can only generate power using their arm muscles."
"But under those impossible conditions, one man consistently achieved
'One-Punch' KOs."
"Adam Dudley of the Texas Yetis."
Mitarai offered a faint, clinical smile.
"The secret to Adam's power lies in his core. Specifically, his trunk muscles.
He possesses unnaturally developed erector spinae muscles. They allow him to
transfer kinetic energy with terrifying efficiency."
"He doesn't need full-body linkage. He can generate lethal force using only his
arms and his back. It is why he can bridge his body off the floor like that—his
spine is essentially a biological catapult."
Mitarai adjusted his glasses. "That freakish physique, combined with his savage
brawling instinct, makes him a true 'Outlier.' So... how will the Son of God
handle this monster?"
Ren Shiroki and Gaolang Wongsawat both spoke at the same time.
"No," they said in unison, shaking their heads. "It's already over."
Mitarai blinked. "—?"
Even Rama XIII looked confused, waiting for an explanation.
[The Arena]
Adam's face was a mask of fury. "Enough foreplay! I'm gonna nail you!!"
The sheer ferocity of the threat made Alai Jr. narrow his eyes. "Okay..." he
whispered.
Alai Jr. raised his fists, stepping forward as if to re-engage. Adam braced
himself, tucking his chin to tank whatever the boxer threw so he could use his
massive weight to crash into the youth.
But suddenly, Alai Jr. stopped. He lowered his hands, turned his back, and began
to walk away.
"HEY! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!"
Adam let out a roar of "FUCK!" and lunged forward to pursue.
But the moment he took his first step, a profound confusion washed over him.
Huh...?
Adam noticed that the ground in front of him was suddenly "rising." The arena
floor was flying up toward his face as if the world had turned ninety degrees.
What... is happening...?!
THUD!
The sand slammed into Adam's forehead.
From the audience's perspective, Adam had taken one step forward and then simply
toppled over like a felled tree, hitting the ground face-first with a heavy,
limp thud.
Before the darkness claimed him, Adam had only enough strength to mutter one
word.
"Inexplicable..."
Zip!
Alai Jr. raised his fists to the crowd, acknowledging the victory.
The announcer screamed: "THE MATCH IS DECIDED!!"
☆☆☆
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