Part-56

  Uhe back-alley enters James envisioned, here, martial arts were a way of life. Judo, Boxing, Kickboxing, Karate, Kendo – the school offered a plethora of disciplines, with many students training for and participating in national petitions. Today's "duel" wasn't a fight; it was just araining session, albeit oh a higher profile due to James' ued rise to fame (or infamy, depending on the perspective).

  Relief washed over James, a tension he hadn't realized he was holding dissipating. This wasn't a street fight he had to win at all costs. It was a test of his newfound skills, a ce to gauge himself against a more experienced oppo within the safety of a trolled enviro.

  He spotted Sourov in the ter of the designated area, warming up with practiced ease. Sourov, a mountain of a boy with a shaved head and a perpetual scowl, looked every bit the formidable oppo.

  Sourov cracked his knuckles, the sound eg in the sudden hush that fell over the crowd. He towered over James, a swisting his features. "Thought you'd chi out, pipsqueak," he rumbled, his voice dripping with dession.

  James ignored him, fog on his breath. He kaunts were part of Sourov's strategy, desigo unnerve him. Instead, he cast a gowards the edge of the makeshift arena, where Coach Gin, a wiry man with a weathered fad a keeood . Gin, the school's Judo coach, was known for his no-nonsense approad his respect for all martial arts disciplioday, he was ag as the referee, a reassuring presen the midst of the growing tension.

  The coach raised his voice, his words cutting through the chatter. "This match will be different," he announced. "Since you both practice different fighting styles, there will be no predetermined rules. The only rule is this: the matds when one of you admits defeat. The one who cedes is the loser, uood?"

  A murmur rippled through the crowd. This wasn't the usual saned matbsp; This was raw, uable bat, a csh of styles with no safety . James felt a jolt of adrenaline course through him.

  Sourov, however, seemed taken ababsp; He was used to the trolled enviro of Judo throws and grappling teiques. A fight with no limitations was uncharted territory for him. But his bravado quickly returned, repced by a hungry glint in his eyes. "Fine by me," he growled, crag his knuckles once more.

  The coach stepped back, raising his hand. "Hajime!" (Begin!) he decred, and the match was on.

  Coach Gin's booming "Hajime!" echoed through the arena, officially starting the match. James squared his shoulders, heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He stole a g Sourov, the t figure radiating raw fidehe sneer on Sourov's face widened, his eyes glinting with anticipation.

  Just as James prepared to unto a defeance, a new blue notifiaterialized in the air, pulsating before him. Uhe previous mission prompts, this one held a sinister edge:

  **[Mission 12: Survive against Sourov for 3 minutes without using any skills.]**

  **[Reward: Crisis Mode]**

  **[Penalty if failed: Same as Mission 11 Penalty]**