Part-86

  With a surge of adrenaline and a flexibility James never knew he possessed, James unched himself upwards, delivering a powerful uppercut that arced through the air. This time, the strike ected with the side of Ryan's neck, just below his jaw. A siing crack echoed through the training area, and Ryan's eyes widened in shobsp; His body went limp, and he crumpled to the mat like a felled tree.

  Panic flickered across James' fabsp; He hadn't inteo seriously injure Ryan. Auto bat, however, operated on a cold logic of winning the match at all costs.

  James, chest heaving, stared down at the fallen Ryan, a sense of disbelief washing over him. Had he actually won?

  But his moment of triumph was short-lived. A searing paihrough his muscles, his legs threatening to buckle beh him. A notification fshed in his mind – "Auto bat Deactivated: Stamied (30%)." The System, once his relentless puppet master, had finally released its trol.

  James sank to one knee, gasping for breath. His body, pushed to its absolute limit by Auto bat, now screamed in protest. Across from him, Ryan stirred. Disorientation clouded his eyes, but a flicker of determination quickly repced it. He was about to cede, a grudging respect for James' unorthodox fighting style bubbling within him.

  "Ouch," Ryan mumbled, wing as he tried to push himself up. "That… that st one hurt."

  "Alright, alright," Ryan rasped, pushing himself to his feet. "You win this one. You fought well."

  But James shook his head, his voice ragged. "No," he wheezed, "I 't… tinue." Defeat, bitter and undeniable, settled in his stomach. He had tasted victory, however fleeting, and now it was ripped away.

  Ryan, however, seemed genuinely surprised. "What do you mean you 't tinue? You just knocked me ft on my back!"

  A wry smile flickered on James' lips despite the pain. "There's more to it than you think," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. The System, his secret on, was a burden he couldn't expin.

  Ryan frowned, his petitive spirit momentarily dampened by James' obvious distress. "Look," he said, extending a hand to help James to his feet, "whatever it is, you did good. Seriously good. You nded some hits I never saw ing."

  James tried to stand up, but his muscles groaned, f him bato a sitting position.

  "Hey," Ryan nudged him with his elbow, repg the pyful banter. "You alright? You look like you just ran a marathon."

  James chuckled, the sound shaky. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… tired." He admitted defeat with a sigh. "As I said, I 't tinue. Looks like you win, Ryan."

  Ryan's jaw dropped. "Win? Are you kidding? Let me tail you clearly... You practically knocked me out cold! There's no way I could have tinued after that st hit."

  The look of genuine worry on Ryan's face touched James. He realized, despite the initial hostility, Ryan wasn't a bad guy. Maybe he really was crushing on Mili, but he had hahe situation far too unprofessionally.

  "We talk about it ter," James said, f a smile. "Right now, I need a break." With that, he leaned against the wall, his body screaming for rest.