"RAAAAAHHHHHHH!"
The roar startled him, snapping his gaze back to Blackwood, who had now fully regained his sight while still lost in that maddened state. Far behind him, Jiro wore an amused smile, his fingers curling slightly as he reached a decision. Then and there, he resolved to charge in and strike Jurgen, turning the fight into something even more decisively unfair.
Blackwood closed the distance immediately with a straight lunge; it came too fast for Jurgen to react. A hand clamped onto his jaw — he quickly slapped it away, but Blackwood lunged again. Jurgen followed with another shove, all while staggering backward, struggling as he was being pushed.
He did everything he could to prevent Blackwood from getting a firm hold on him. It bordered on panic, as though the memory of being trapped in that tight, helpless position had left a lasting imprint on him. He struggled frantically, swatting away Blackwood's wild lunges.
Suddenly, Jiro appeared at his side, following up with a brutal kick to his ribs that jolted him, giving Blackwood the opening to secure another tight grip around his neck. Jurgen was already too exhausted to continue. Blackwood getting hold of him a second time made him lose hope — he had no chance of escaping again. He had given up.
Then, like a breath caught in the wind, something shifted. A familiar sensation flowed through him, his body beginning to burn as his pupils dilated. It was that same power he had felt back at the ridge.
From his wrist down to his fingers, his hand ignited, burning with a dark purple ember. The flame flared briefly before it drew inward, seeping deep into his hand. A faint purple glow remained, as though it had settled into his very bones. It came like a sudden miracle, he could now perceive their movements effortlessly. Blackwood's tight grip felt lighter, and the bite wounds on his fingers healed in the same instant.
He had gained something — something that should have given him the edge — but for some reason, his body wasn't responding. It wasn't the new ability that made Blackwood's choke feel weaker, it was the choke itself. The air was being cut off from his brain. The vast arena he had been facing beyond Blackwood… began to shift.
The sky.
"Jurgen-San! Jurgen-San!" a voice called out desperately, but it sounded distant, like an echo from far away. What was happening to him? Was he passing out?
"JURGEN-SAN!!!"
This time, the familiar voice cut through, pulling him slightly back to reality. The sudden sound snapped through his ears as he realized he was falling. His eyes shot toward Blackwood, who had just loosened his grip — not out of mercy, but because… he was sinking. Into the ground. The same ground that should have been as solid as concrete.
Jurgen staggered backward, barely maintaining his balance. His eyes caught Blackwood, who had leapt free just before the ground swallowed him. The surface had become unnaturally soft, far too soft. His gaze darted, landing on Jiro, who was now embedded in the hardened ground, only his head remaining above the surface. The sight stunned him. Had someone interfered? Had someone dared to toy with his pride? To him 'pity' was the worst insult he could ever receive.
"Jurgen-San," the voice called again, calmer now, laced with relief.
"I'll leave the rest to you!"
Jurgen snapped his gaze toward the source. It was Bubbles. His hand was pressed against the ground, fingers spread wide, a visible trail of softened terrain extending from his palm to where Jurgen and Blackwood had been moments before. That was when it clicked, this was Bubbles' doing.
The weak, useless fat ass… had pulled off something like this. Though the strain in Bubbles' expression made it clear this wasn't something he could do casually. Jurgen understood immediately — this was a one-time chance. A rare opening. A golden opportunity.
A faint, relieved smile formed on his lips. He wasn't angry — far from it. If anything, he felt reassured. Bubbles had erased his doubts at the exact moment it mattered most. It felt almost like a miracle, coming from the last person he expected.
"Ahh! Leave the rest to me, fatty!"
Jurgen's voice carried a rough, genuine gratitude. He would handle the rest from here.
A genuine smile of self-satisfaction spread across Nemesio's face as he leaned forward, taking in the scene with heightened focus. What he had been expecting had finally surfaced. It had become clear to him that it emerged at critical moments— when danger reached its peak.
Yes, Jurgen… yes! This is it!
The expression was unmistakable. Leonidas noticed it as well—the smile was genuine, though whether it stemmed from excitement for Jurgen or for his own interests was impossible to tell.
Kimura, too, watched with growing interest. At this point, stopping the match had completely slipped his mind, deep down, he no longer even wanted to intervene. He was captivated by the ability that had allowed Jurgen to survive Blut so casually.
Blackwood, having regained his composure, prepared to charge once more.
Bubbles let out a soft, certain smile. He didn't know what had changed in Jurgen in that brief moment, but whatever it was, the look on Jurgen's face told him everything, he could trust him to finish this.
Jurgen exhaled deeply, a faint stream of vapor escaping his mouth, curling lazily into the evening air. The instant the breath left him, he surged forward with blinding speed toward the buried Jiro. Without hesitation, he drove a devastating punch into his temple. He had not forgotten the misfortune Jiro had caused him, dealing with him first was the most logical choice.
Blackwood charged with a swift kick in that same breath, but all his movements were easily read. Jurgen ducked, dodging the attack as it sliced through the air with a sharp rush of wind, then followed up with a powerful lead hook that snapped Blackwood's jaw the moment he landed.
He staggered back, clutching his shattered jaw. Even without any sane awareness, he couldn't help but feel fear toward Jurgen — honestly, who would blame the guy?
As expected, Jurgen didn't trip or falter as he launched his attacks, confirming his suspicions about Jiro. He followed up swiftly with a straight jab that broke Blackwood's nose instantly, all while moving forward with composed intent, casually walking him down as he pushed him backward, overwhelming him with a relentless series of strikes.
Blackwood ignored the pain and forced himself to attack again, a reckless mistake, but he was no longer capable of rational thought in that state. Jurgen evaded every single punch effortlessly, each strike sweeping past him as he read them with uncanny precision, as though it were nothing. He drove an overhand into Blackwood's open guard and followed it with a crushing right body hook that snapped the bones in his ribs.
Without pause, Jurgen surged forward with blinding speed, vanishing from sight and reappearing behind Blackwood. He wrapped his arm around his neck and locked his legs around his waist, securing him in a hold that was virtually impossible to escape — a calculated retribution for the torment he had endured earlier.