Chapter 216 216: Kill shot

Words : 1735 Updated : Sep 25th, 2025

His blood ran cold. The white lines—he hadn't seen them since the Harbinger fight. They only appeared when someone or something was trying to kill him, he theorized. Time seemed to slow as Noah processed this realization. This wasn't just a tournament fight anymore. The thin, glowing white trajectory line cut through the air, marking the path of Elias's incoming strike directly toward his heart. Noah pivoted on his left foot, twisting his torso ninety degrees. Elias's knuckles whistled past his chest, missing by millimeters. The crowd roared at what looked like a routine dodge, unaware of what Noah had just seen. "What's wrong, Eclipse?" Elias taunted, his lips curled into a snarl. "Looking a little pale." Noah's expression hardened. The calculated fighter vanished, replaced by something colder, more predatory. Elias's next attack came with frightening speed—a flurry of strikes aimed at vital points: throat, temple, solar plexus. Each trajectory marked by those telltale white lines. Noah slipped the first punch by bending backward at the waist, feeling the displacement of air against his chin. The second strike he parried with an open palm, redirecting Elias's momentum while preserving his own balance. The third—aimed at his solar plexus—Noah sidestepped entirely, allowing Elias's momentum to carry him forward into emptiness. Elias recovered quickly, spinning with a reverse heel kick aimed at Noah's kidney. Another white line formed, painting the lethal intent of the strike. Noah didn't just avoid it—he countered. As Elias's leg swept through empty space, Noah captured the extended limb with both hands, one at the ankle, one at the knee. In one fluid motion, he twisted and lifted, forcing Elias's body to rotate unnaturally in the air. The crowd gasped as Elias crashed face-first into the platform. Blood sprayed from his nose, painting crimson dots across the white surface. He rolled away, narrowly avoiding Noah's follow-up stomp that would have crushed his kneecap. The impact sent a spiderweb of cracks through the reinforced platform instead. "Getting serious now?" Elias growled, wiping blood from his face with the back of his hand. His eyes had changed—wild, frenzied, without restraint. Elias lunged forward, feinting left before spinning into a blindingly fast combination. Right cross. Left hook. Right uppercut. Spinning elbow. Each strike executed with perfect form but laced with killing intent that manifested as those spectral white lines only Noah could see. Noah flowed like water. He bent his knees, dropping six inches to let the cross sail over his head. The hook he blocked with his forearm, angling the point of contact to distribute the force. The uppercut he evaded by swaying backward, the air from the strike tickling his chin. But the elbow—that he caught. Noah's hand snapped out, fingers wrapping around Elias's extended arm just below the elbow. With precise application of pressure, he twisted the joint against its natural range of motion while simultaneously pulling Elias forward. The sound of Elias's elbow dislocating was like a wet branch snapping. The crunch of cartilage and ligament giving way echoed across the suddenly silent arena. "AAAAAARGH!" Elias howled, his face contorting in agony. "You broke my fucking arm!" Noah maintained his grip, keeping the pressure applied. "You tried to kill me," he replied, voice flat and emotionless. "Be thankful it's just your arm." He released Elias with a shove, sending him stumbling backward. Elias cradled his mangled arm, which hung at a sickening angle from the elbow. "I don't know what you're talking about," Elias stammered, but fear had replaced his earlier confidence. In the observation deck, Commander Albright leaned forward, hands gripping the railing. "Something's wrong," he murmured to Commander Owen beside him. Noah saw another white line materialize, streaking from Elias's good hand toward Noah's throat. Elias had pulled something from his waistband—small and concealed in his palm. Noah didn't hesitate. He closed the distance in a blur of movement, entering Elias's guard before the strike could fully develop. His left palm slammed into Elias's solar plexus with a wet thud. Air exploded from Elias's lungs in a violent gust, his eyes bulging. Noah pivoted, channeling his body weight into a hammer fist that connected with Elias's collarbone. The bone shattered with an audible crack, fragments pressing dangerously close to the network of veins close to his heart beneath. Elias gasped for air that wouldn't come, his face purpling. Noah continued his assault without pause, driving his knee upward into Elias's floating rib. The bone splintered inward, the sound of it breaking lost beneath Elias's strangled scream. Noah completed his combination with a precision elbow strike to Elias's jaw. The impact was so severe it lifted Elias off his feet momentarily, blood and saliva arcing through the air in a fine mist. Several of Elias's teeth scattered across the platform like discarded dice. The audience watched in stunned silence as Elias staggered backward, legs unsteady, consciousness clinging by threads. Blood streamed from his mouth, nose, and a fresh cut above his eye. Incredibly, Elias stayed upright. His eyes glazed but defiant, he attempted to activate his Phase Counter—the technique that had made him famous. His body shifted, anticipating Noah's next move before it came. But Noah had become unpredictable. He stepped left, then right, then forward-left in a staccato rhythm impossible to read. His footwork created a hypnotic pattern that defied prediction, a combat algorithm too complex for Elias's Phase Counter to process. "What the fuck are you?" Elias gurgled through bloodied teeth, genuine terror replacing his earlier arrogance. Noah didn't answer. Another white line materialized—Elias was gathering his remaining strength for one final, desperate attack. The trajectory aimed directly at Noah's windpipe, a strike that would crush his trachea if it connected. Noah sidestepped at the last possible moment, allowing Elias's arm to extend fully past his target. In that moment of overextension, Noah seized Elias's wrist in a grip like iron. The bones ground together under the pressure as Noah twisted the arm up and back, tendons straining to their breaking point. With his free hand, Noah unleashed an Exploding Palm strike directly to the center of Elias's chest. Chi energy visibly rippled through his palm, concentrating at the point of impact. The strike connected with a sound like thunder, the energy transferring through Elias's sternum and into his vital organs. The force launched Elias backward as if fired from a cannon. His body flew through the air, limbs flailing helplessly before slamming into the energy barrier that surrounded the platform. The barrier flickered and distorted on impact, its integrity temporarily compromised by the violence of the collision. Elias slid down the barrier, leaving a smear of blood in his wake. He collapsed onto his side, body convulsing as he coughed up dark arterial blood that spattered across the pristine white floor. Noah approached with measured steps, each footfall echoing in the deathly quiet arena. The audience had fallen silent, sensing they were witnessing something forbidden—a tournament match transformed into an execution. Elias tried to push himself up, arms trembling under his own weight. His body betrayed him, and he collapsed face-first onto the platform. Noah loomed over him, fist cocked back for what would clearly be a killing blow. "You won't kill me," Elias wheezed, blood bubbling between his lips with each word. "Not here... not with everyone watching." Noah's eyes were cold, calculating, utterly devoid of mercy. "You didn't seem concerned about that when you tried to put me down." Elias's gaze darted to the stands, to where Jayden Smoak watched with growing alarm. "It was just a match," Elias pleaded, his voice breaking. "Just a fucking match!" Noah's fist remained raised, trembling slightly with restrained power. The white lines had disappeared—Elias no longer posed any threat. The immediate danger had passed. After what seemed an eternity, Noah lowered his fist and stepped back. "Next time you take orders from Smoak," he said quietly, "remember this moment." He turned and walked away, not bothering to watch as medical personnel rushed onto the platform, their faces etched with concern as they surrounded Elias's broken form. "Victory to Academy Twelve's Noah Eclipse!" the announcer declared, though the usual enthusiasm was noticeably absent, replaced by a tone of stunned disbelief. As Noah exited the platform, Marco intercepted him in the corridor, his face ashen. "What happened out there? I know we all want to win but you and Lila going last, seems to me like you too banded to beat the crap out for everyone else and left me out of the chat" he demanded, voice low and urgent. Noah met his gaze directly. "Ask Elias about his lethal intent," he replied coldly. "And maybe someone should have a word with Academy Eight about assassination attempts disguised as tournament matches." Before Marco could respond, Noah brushed past him, heading for the medical check station. His system chimed in his mind: [Survival of the Fittest: COMPLETED] Objective: Survive each round without dropping below 30% HP - SUCCESS Bonus Objective: HP never dropped below 20% - SUCCESS Rewards: +1,000 XP, Mystery Box, +3 Agility, +2 Strength Noah dismissed the notification as Lila approached, her eyes gleaming with something that looked disturbingly like admiration. "That wasn't just fighting," she said, her voice hushed with excitement. "That was something else entirely." She followed behind him like an excited puppy. First Lila squashing her opponent in under seconds and now he was doing doing the same. He needed to talk to Lucas. Academy eight weren't out to play nice. At all. Noah didn't reply. His mind was already racing ahead, processing implications. If Jayden Smoak had arranged this, it meant something bigger was brewing between the academies. And if white lines had appeared in a sanctioned tournament, the rules of engagement had fundamentally changed. The scrambler began spinning for the next match, but Noah's thoughts were elsewhere. This wasn't just about winning anymore—it was about surviving. And as he glanced back at the platform where medics were frantically working on Elias, Noah knew one thing with absolute certainty: He would need to be prepared for much worse to come.

Chapter 216 216: Kill shot

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