Extra's Rise: I Stole All The Women In The Hero's Party-Chapter 134: Fists First, Talk Later (II)

Block.

Parry.

Weave.

Return.

Their fists and feet moved like choreography with malice.

Both danced in tight circles, the thuds of impact echoing through the field.

Ragnar leaned in too deep during a hook, and Zayn capitalized with a rapid three-hit combo — elbow, knee, jab.

Ragnar tanked it, shoved forward with a grunt, and tackled Zayn into the ground.

Zayn gasped.

The world turned sideways.

He twisted under Ragnar’s arm and kneed him in the gut to break free, both rolling in opposite directions and standing at the same time like anime rivals locked in a training arc.

Bran’s eyes were wide. "They’re insane... even more so than me."

Kara blinked. "That’s not martial arts. That’s just two dragons slapping each other politely."

Seren’s hands were gripping her cloak like a concerned mom. "Are they seriously not using magic for this?!"

Elisse folded her arms, watching intently. "It’s not magic, it’s soul energy and Nope. Zayn’s being stubborn. He’s testing his body."

Back on the field, both fighters were panting.

Sweat dripped down Zayn’s brow. His ribs ached.

His fingers tingled from all the blocks. Ragnar stood across from him, chest heaving, but his grin hadn’t wavered one bit.

Zayn rotated his shoulder. "You’re fast."

Zayn continued rotated his shoulder, the muscles popping with the kind of satisfying crack that only comes from a day spent training and pretending not to be sore.

His soul energy flared around him, crackling in golden tendrils that sparked the air.

The tension was high — his focus now sharper than Tobias’ anytime he tried to flash his glasses.

Ragnar stood across from him, eyes gleaming with excitement, his own soul energy radiating a ferocious golden hue.

The ground beneath them felt like it was vibrating in sync with the pounding of their hearts.

It was one of those "Who’s going to blink first?" moments. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

Except neither of them was going to blink. Because that would be weak.

Blinking is for chumps.

"Well, speed isn’t everything," Zayn muttered, eyes narrowing as he measured Ragnar’s stance.

"What?" Ragnar shouted back, already moving with the grace of a freight train on roller skates.

Zayn didn’t even have time to blink before Ragnar was in his face, his fist swinging with the force of a thousand angry bears (okay, maybe like three, but still).

Zayn sidestepped just in time — barely. Close enough to feel the wind from that punch, though.

His heart skipped a beat as he took a step back.

Okay, maybe Ragnar wasn’t just fast — he was a little too fast for Zayn’s liking.

But hey, Zayn had an ego to protect, so he threw a few punches of his own, channeling his soul energy into a rapid barrage of golden punches.

’Let’s see if this works!’ Zayn grinned through gritted teeth.

He wasn’t sure if his plan was working, but that’s what made it fun, right?

Ragnar responded with an equally ridiculous move: He slammed his fist onto the ground, sending a shockwave through the air.

Gold constructs exploded from the ground, raining down like oversized golden confetti. One of them smacked Zayn in the face.

"What the hell was that?!" Zayn yelled, rubbing his cheek.

The construct had left a glittery golden print on his face.

"Come on, keep up!" Ragnar called, already moving again. He was charging faster than Zayn could think, and that was a pretty low bar.

Zayn wasn’t about to let this man get the better of him.

With a quick mental shout to his soul energy, he took a deep breath and cocked his fist back, letting it surge with soul energy.

He slammed it into a golden shield Ragnar had created, creating a sound that could’ve shattered glass — if the glass was made of vibranium.

"Oh, you think that’s going to work?" Ragnar’s smirk grew wider as he spun on his heel and punched Zayn right in the chest.

The impact was so hard it felt like Zayn’s ribs were trying to escape. In an instant, Ragnar grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him across the field.

Zayn sailed through the air like a man who was definitely not in control of his own trajectory.

Slam.

Three trees exploded into splinters as Zayn crashed through them, each one falling like some bad metaphor for the fight itself.

"Aghh, seriously?!" Zayn groaned from the wreckage of the trees, feeling winded and embarrassed.

His soul energy was still sparking, but it wasn’t exactly helping with the fact that he was now stuck between three uprooted trees.

Meanwhile, Ragnar was already halfway across the field, flexing like he just won the universe’s best flex-off competition.

"Alright, alright," Zayn mumbled to himself, pushing himself up from the tree debris. "That was a little embarrassing."

Ragnar, sensing the impending humiliation, charged in again, his arms raised like he was about to crush Zayn with some epic move.

But Zayn wasn’t about to let that happen. This time, he gathered all his energy into his legs and prepared to leap out of the way just in time.

Except, as he made the move, Ragnar switched it up.

Like a true wrestling villain, Ragnar whipped around and caught him mid-air, lifting him as though he weighed nothing.

With an obnoxious amount of flair, Ragnar spun Zayn around and flung him into the air again.

Zayn went flying, his mind desperately scrambling for anything that resembled a plan.

But in the end, as Zayn soared helplessly, his thoughts were simple.

’Why do I always pick fights with people who think they’re too cool?’

"Yeah, okay, Ragnar, we get it! You’re the Hero of power! You got golden soul energy and all that! Now can you let me catch my breath?!" Zayn shouted, his voice a mix of frustration and admiration.

He was totally about to win this fight. Any minute now.

But Ragnar, ever the showman, grinned widely. "This is fun, but let’s see how you deal with this!"

Zayn’s eyes widened, The Hero was creating yet another contruct.