Chapter 143: Want to Foul? Don't Even Think About Two-on-One, Only Two-on-Two
Porcupine rubbed his chin, the sharp quills on his back bristling slightly before he nodded in agreement with Gatorboy's plan.
"Hey, hey, have you two runts had enough fun playing pretend?" Gatorboy sneered, crossing his massive, scaly arms.
Klein leaned against the lockers. He could sense their auras—plenty of bravado, a lot of muscle, but zero actual killing intent. Because of that, he decided to be generous and give these oversized meatheads one last chance to walk away.
"Kid, I don't think you heard a word I said, did you?" Gatorboy growled, stepping closer. He was genuinely thrown off by the fact that neither Klein nor Ben was cowering. They didn't act like normal children at all.
Klein sighed, his tone dripping with lazy indifference. "I'm telling you this for your own good. Don't refuse a toast only to be forced to drink a forfeit."
Gatorboy and Porcupine exchanged a bewildered glance before bursting into booming, mocking laughter.
Klein didn't bother indulging their amusement. He simply raised his right hand, his fingers curling into a loose grip. A sudden, blinding swirl of golden light particles materialized out of thin air, rapidly coalescing into the gleaming, majestic form of the Divine Sword Aikequwa.
Without breaking eye contact, Klein gave the blade a casual, almost lazy flick of his wrist.
A crescent of pure, concentrated golden energy erupted from the edge. The sword wave tore through the concrete floor right between Gatorboy and Porcupine's boots, carving a scorching, ten-meter-long trench in a fraction of a second. It didn't stop there. The wave slammed into the reinforced concrete wall behind them, cleaving a massive, smoking fissure that stretched all the way from the ceiling to the floor.
Dust rained down. The room fell dead silent.
The Divine Sword Aikequwa wasn't completely drained of its power. Sure, it couldn't level an entire city with a single swing right now, but it was more than sufficient for a little untransformed self-defense.
Gatorboy and Porcupine stood frozen, their eyes bulging as they stared at the glowing blade in Klein's hand.
'We were just messing around! Why did you escalate straight to lethal weapons?!' The thought screamed in both their minds. Neither of them doubted for a second that if that golden wave had been aimed just an inch to the left or right, they would have been neatly sliced in half.
Gatorboy swallowed hard, a drop of cold sweat rolling down his scaly neck. "Uh... I just remembered. I, uh, need to rush back for my pre-match warm-up stretches. So, I'll just be taking my leave first."
He didn't wait for a response, spinning on his heel and slipping away faster than a greased pig. Porcupine scrambled right behind him, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to escape the terrifying kid.
Ben blinked, staring wide-eyed at the glowing weapon in Klein's grip. "Cousin, isn't that the Divine Sword Aikequwa? I thought that thing got completely destroyed?"
Klein rolled his shoulders, his expression deadpan. "Don't ask questions. If anyone asks, I bought it at a discount toy store."
He clearly had zero intention of explaining his system's inventory mechanics.
Ben, easily distracted by shiny objects, didn't press the issue. Instead, he clasped his hands together, looking at Klein with huge, pleading puppy-dog eyes. "Cousin, can I borrow it? Just to play with for a little bit?"
"No. Way."
With a thought, the Divine Sword Aikequwa dissolved back into a cloud of golden light particles, vanishing into thin air.
"Focus, Dweeb," Klein instructed. "Get ready to go out there and teach those two oversized bullies a proper lesson in the ring."
Ben grinned, slamming his fist into his palm. "No problem! Just watch me flatten them into pancakes!"
Meanwhile, in another part of the arena.
Gatorboy and Porcupine pushed their way into the competitors' restroom, eager to splash some cold water on their faces after their near-death experience. But the moment the door swung open, they froze. A group of burly men in sharp black suits were waiting for them, blocking the exits.
"Excellent. The freak show is finally about to begin," the leader of the suits drawled. He was sitting casually on a folding chair, legs crossed, a mocking smirk plastered across his face.
Porcupine narrowed his eyes, his quills flaring up defensively. "What do you want?"
The suit didn't bother beating around the bush. "Mr. Beck sent us. He wants to make sure you two freaks understand exactly what will happen if you manage to lose that prize money tonight."
Hearing the mob boss's name, Porcupine's bravado faltered. He stepped forward, his tone laced with sudden anxiety. "The championship prize money is practically already ours! Tell him not to worry!"
The man in black stood up, adjusting his tie as he delivered his final warning. "Oh, I'm not worried at all. But if you do somehow mess this up, Mr. Beck will be very, very displeased."
Out in the main arena, the atmosphere was electric. Bright spotlights swept across the cheering crowd as the announcer's voice boomed over the loudspeakers.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the championship final is about to begin! Tonight's ultimate winner will walk away with ten thousand dollars in cold, hard cash!"
The crowd roared in anticipation.
"Let's hear a massive round of applause for the reigning terror of the ring... Gatorboy!"
"Woohoo!" The audience went wild as Gatorboy stomped down the aisle, flexing his scaly green muscles and vaulting over the ropes into the ring.
"And his challenger! The unstoppable, the unbeatable, the one and only... Four Arms!"
"Yeahhh!" On the opposite side of the arena, a massive, red-skinned Tetramand leaped high into the air, crashing down onto the canvas with a heavy thud that shook the entire ring.
The moment Four Arms and Gatorboy locked eyes, the tension in the air thickened, invisible sparks flying between them.
Four Arms slammed his four massive fists together, his voice a deep, ferocious rumble. "You act pretty tough when you're trying to bully a couple of kids backstage! If you've got any real guts, come at me!"
Gatorboy's jaw nearly dropped.
'I bullied you?! Are you absolutely kidding me?! You guys bullied me!'He wanted to scream.'You didn't see how brutally that terrifying kid swung that bling-bling golden sword at my head!'
Gatorboy felt an overwhelming sense of injustice welling up in his chest, a grievance he couldn't even begin to express out loud. But, to be fair, he had been the one to start the trouble in the first place. Refusing to lose face in front of a packed stadium, Gatorboy bared his sharp teeth and roared right back.
"I'm going to beat you so hard you'll be crawling on the canvas looking for your teeth!"
The two behemoths stomped toward the center of the ring, closing the distance until they were practically nose-to-nose. The match bell hadn't even rung yet, but the murderous intent radiating from both sides made it clear they were seconds away from throwing down.
The referee, a brave but foolishly optimistic man, rushed in and tried to physically wedge himself between them. He pushed against their chests, straining with all his might, but it was like trying to move a pair of brick walls. He couldn't budge either of them an inch.
Helpless, the referee resorted to shouting a verbal warning. "Back to your corners! Both of you! You come out and fight only when you hear the bell!"
His authority was completely ignored. Neither Four Arms nor Gatorboy broke eye contact. Realizing he was completely useless in this situation, the exasperated referee threw his hands up in defeat and frantically signaled the timekeeper.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The match bell finally rang.
Instantly, both fighters lunged. They grappled, simultaneously locking their hands onto each other's massive shoulders in a brutal test of raw strength. But Tetramand muscle was simply on another level. Four Arms grunted, dug his heels into the mat, and effortlessly hoisted Gatorboy into the air, flinging him across the ring.
Gatorboy crashed hard into the elastic ropes, the tension snapping him violently back toward the center. Four Arms didn't waste a second. He charged forward, tackling the rebounding mutant to the canvas. Using his superior limb count, Four Arms pinned Gatorboy down—his lower hands locking Gatorboy's legs in place while his upper hands pressed down heavily on the mutant's shoulders, completely immobilizing him.
"I really don't like to lose!" Gatorboy snarled, glaring fiercely up at the red alien pinning him. "Because I'm a notoriously sore loser!"
With a sudden, explosive burst of adrenaline, Gatorboy twisted his torso, finding just enough use to plant his heavy boots against Four Arms' chest. He kicked out with all his might, launching the Tetramand off him. Before Four Arms could fully recover, Gatorboy scrambled to his feet, darted behind his opponent, and locked his thick arms in a punishing full nelson around Four Arms' upper set of arms.
Four Arms merely smirked. Having four arms had its perks. He drove his lower elbows backward in a brutal, synchronized strike, slamming them directly into Gatorboy's ribs.
Gatorboy gasped, his grip loosening in pain. Capitalizing on the opening, Four Arms forcefully broke the hold, spun around, and seized one of Gatorboy's wrists, intending to judo-throw the mutant right out of the ring.
But Gatorboy was a seasoned wrestler. Instead of resisting, he leaned into the pull, using Four Arms' own momentum against him. Twisting his body, Gatorboy grabbed Four Arms' forearm with his free hand, planted his feet, and hurled the massive Tetramand over his shoulder.
"Uh oh!" Four Arms yelled as he went flying through the air.
He crashed heavily into the steel turnbuckle in the corner of the ring, the impact bending the sturdy metal pillar crooked. Seeing his opponent dazed, Gatorboy roared and charged forward like a runaway freight train.
But Four Arms shook off the dizziness just in time, sidestepping at the very last second. Gatorboy couldn't stop his momentum. He slammed headfirst into the already bent steel pillar with a sickening crunch.
Staggering backward, eyes rolling dizzily in his head, Gatorboy was left wide open. Four Arms stepped in and delivered a devastating right hook, sending the mutant crashing to the mat.
Four Arms cracked his knuckles, thinking the match was already in the bag. But just as he turned to celebrate, a sharp, stinging pain erupted across his broad back.
Hissing, Four Arms reached over his shoulder, his fingers brushing against several long, rigid black quills embedded deep in his skin. He yanked them out with a grunt and whipped around, only to see Porcupine standing inside the ropes, having illicitly jumped into the ring.
"Hey!" Four Arms yelled, pointing a massive finger at the referee. "Two against one! That's a blatant foul! It's not fair!"
The referee merely shrugged, offering a completely unapologetic smile. "Well, you've got four hands and four eyes. Mathematically speaking, adding one more opponent just evens the playing field. No foul."
Sitting in the audience, Klein narrowed his eyes. 'Yeah, that ref has definitely been bought and paid for.'
Down in the ring, Four Arms was so furious his vision started to blur. Wait a minute... blur? A wave of intense dizziness suddenly washed over him, his massive legs wobbling unsteadily.
Four Arms stared at Porcupine in absolute disbelief. 'Did this coward actually poison his quills?!'
"Hahahaha! I just love the drama of professional wrestling!" Mr. Beck, the wealthy mob boss, cackled from his VIP seat near the front row. It was blatantly obvious that this two-on-one ambush was entirely orchestrated by him to ensure his prize money stayed safe.
Seeing the blatant corruption unfolding, Klein let out a quiet sigh. He decided it was time to join the fun. Slipping out of his seat, he quietly disappeared into the shadows of the arena.
Back in the ring, the poisoned and dizzy Four Arms was struggling to stay upright as Gatorboy and Porcupine ruthlessly ganged up on him, raining down blows from all sides.
Suddenly—
THUD!
Another massive, heavy figure vaulted over the ropes, landing in the center of the ring with a force that made the canvas tremble.
"Cannonbolt?!" Four Arms blinked his four eyes, staring in shock at the bulky, armor-plated alien that had just intervened. Catching sight of the distinct, modified faceplate of the Another Omnitrix glowing on the alien's chest, Ben immediately recognized the newcomer. It was Klein.
"Wait! Stop right there! You can't disrupt the match!" the corrupt referee shouted, rushing forward and waving his arms frantically to get Cannonbolt out of the ring.
Cannonbolt simply crossed his stubby, clawed arms over his chest, his voice echoing with a dry, amused rumble. "Hold on a second, ref. You just ruled that because my cousin here has four eyes and four hands, adding a second opponent makes it fair, right?"
The referee hesitated. "Uh... yes?"
"Perfect," Cannonbolt grinned, showing off a row of flat teeth. "So, if I team up with him, but I promise not to use my eyes or my hands to fight... then mathematically, it's still perfectly fair. No foul, right?"
It was a flawlessly trollish argument. The referee was completely stumped by the airtight logic. Unsure of how to proceed, he nervously glanced down at the VIP section, seeking guidance from Mr. Beck.
The mob boss, amused by the sheer audacity of the new challenger, simply smirked and gave a slow, arrogant nod.
Taking his cue, the referee turned back to Cannonbolt and pointed a warning finger. "Fine. It's a two-on-two match now. But only as long as you can actually fight without your hands or eyes!"
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