Wielder Of The Dragon Flame

Chapter 52

 "It's pointless, kid. I don't know what technique you're using, but you can't stop me now. I'm operating at full power, and you're... well, you're still just you."

Jabber's lips curved into a small, defiant smile. 

"Let's watch and see, Brick the Destroyer of Stones."

The deliberate repetition of the mocking name hit exactly as intended. Brick's face flushed darker, the flames around his body flaring brighter in response to his anger. When he spoke, his voice had gone from almost gentle to hard and cold.

"You really want to keep making jokes? Fine. Let me show you exactly how fast I can move when I'm actually trying."

And then he exploded forward.

The speed was shocking. One moment Brick was standing relatively still, the next he was a blur of motion and crimson-black flame, closing the remaining distance in a fraction of a second. 

His right fist came around in a devastating hook aimed at Jabber's head, the flames around his hand trailing behind like a comet's tail.

"Wow, he's way faster now!" 

Asta exclaimed, his heart leaping into his throat.

"Yeah." 

Flora breathed. 

"The flames aren't just armor,they're enhancing his physical abilities. Strength, speed, everything."

But even as they watched in horror, expecting to see Jabber get his head taken off by that strike, something unexpected happened.

Jabber moved. Not backward, not away from the punch like any sane person would. He moved forward and to the left, stepping inside the arc of Brick's hook, getting close to the bigger man's body where the long reach became a disadvantage.

 The flaming fist passed through the space where Jabber's head had been a split-second earlier, close enough that Asta could see Jabber's hair get singed by the heat.

Brick immediately adjusted, his left hand coming up in a sharp uppercut aimed at Jabber's now-exposed ribs. But Jabber was already moving again, pivoting on his back foot, his whole body flowing like water around the attack.The uppercut missed by inches.

The crowd's murmuring had taken on a different quality now not mockery or dismissal, but genuine surprise edged with excitement:

"Wait, is he actually dodging all of those?"

"How is he moving that fast?"

"I thought Jabber was supposed to be weak!"

"Was he pretending this whole time?"

Brick pressed the attack, not giving Jabber any time to breathe or counter. Right cross, left jab, right uppercut, left hook,a combination that flowed together with brutal efficiency, each strike wreathed in those crimson-black flames, each one powerful enough to end the fight instantly if it connected.

And Jabber dodged every single one.

His movements were fluid, each dodge using the minimum motion necessary to avoid the strike. He wasn't wasting energy on big dramatic movements,just small shifts, subtle pivots, his body reading Brick's tells and responding before the attacks fully developed. 

It was like watching a dance, if dancing involved not getting your face burned off by fire-covered fists.

"Look!" 

Flora said, her voice filled with something like awe. "He's not just dodging,he's following the Flowing Phoenix style perfectly! See how he's redirecting Brick's momentum instead of fighting against it? He's making Brick do most of the work!"

Asta couldn't respond, too focused on the fight to form words. His hands were clenched into fists so tight his nails were digging into his palms, but he didn't notice. All his attention was on Jabber, on his guild mate who was somehow,impossibly,holding his own against Brick the Destroyer of Flames.

Brick, for his part, was starting to look frustrated. His attacks were growing more aggressive, more powerful, which meant they were also becoming slightly less controlled. And Jabber was taking advantage of every small opening, every tiny mistake.

"How?"

 Brick demanded between strikes, his breathing starting to show strain. Maintaining those flames and that level of speed was clearly taking effort.

 "How are you dodging all my attacks? You're not that fast! You shouldn't be able to…"

Jabber smiled,actually smiled,as he slipped under another hook. 

"Maybe you're just not as good as you think you are."

That was the wrong thing to say. Or maybe the right thing, depending on your perspective.

Brick's face went from frustrated to furious. 

"I think I can't beat you," 

He said, and his lips curved into a smile that held no humor, just cold determination.

Jabber's expression flickered with confusion,was Brick giving up? and for just a split-second, his perfect defense wavered.

"I was just kidding."

 Brick added, his smile widening.

And then he moved faster than he had yet.

Jabber's eyes widened in shock as Brick's flame-covered fist came up in an uppercut that he hadn't seen coming, hadn't anticipated, couldn't dodge because his weight was distributed wrong from that moment of confusion.

The uppercut connected with Jabber's chin with a sound like a hammer hitting meat. His head snapped back, his whole body lifting slightly off the ground from the force of the blow.

 He should have gone flying,that kind of hit should have launched him across the ring.

But he didn't go flying. His hands came up instinctively, grabbing onto Brick's extended arm, using it as an anchor to keep himself from leaving the ground entirely.

 His feet touched back down, his legs shaking with the effort of staying upright and Brick was already moving again.

His other hand came around in a left hook to Jabber's face. Then a right cross. Then another left hook. Right uppercut. Left jab. Right cross. The combinations came so fast they blurred together, and this time Jabber couldn't dodge because he was still recovering from that first hit, his equilibrium shot, his perfect defensive form broken.

Rapid-fire punches rained down on Jabber's face and head, each one wreathed in those crimson-black flames. Not enough flame to actually burn,Brick was controlling that, probably trying to avoid seriously injuring his opponent,but enough that Jabber coul

d feel the searing heat with every impact, could smell his own hair singing, could taste blood mixing with the coppery tang of burned air.

"Oh no!...”