Extra's Ascent

Yes, his opponent was undeniably powerful.

Eric had known that from the very beginning. From the moment Hector entered the scene with that twisted smirk and overwhelming aura, Eric understood that he wasn't facing a conventional threat. It is what he hadn't fully grasped, what had slipped through the cracks of his calculations was the scale of Hector's madness. His imagination, his sheer creative cruelty, had been underestimated.

And now, that oversight was catching up with him in the form of an attack that could level the entire building.

A tornado of serrated frost tore through the corridor like a living beast, flinging shards of ice at impossible speeds. The whirlwind wasn't just elemental, it was born of raw mystic artistry. Eric had faced countless foes, each with their own techniques and tricks. However, Hector's genius for destruction was something else that blew his mind out.

A low growl formed in Eric's throat as he threw a punch into the open air.

From his knuckles, a storm of compressed wind surged forward, laced with streaks of lightning that crackled and hissed through the air. The combined force met the ice tornado in a blinding clash. Sparks flared. Frost hissed and shattered.

Hector watched the spectacle with a gleam in his eye, lips curled in satisfaction. He looked moments away from applauding.

While Eric focused on neutralizing the swirling barrage of frozen blades, Hector made his move.

His figure flickered. One second he stood still; the next, he vanished entirely.

Eric froze.

"Didn't expect that little burst of destructive talent from you," came the voice right behind him.

The words were still hanging in the air when Eric spun, muscles tightening. His eyes caught a blur, and then—

Boom!

A fist came barreling toward his face. Reflex kicked in. He raised his arms in time to block, just barely. The impact sent tremors through his body, rattling his bones and forcing him off balance. His heels scraped across the marble floor as he was pushed back several meters.

Still, he managed to hold his ground.

Grinding to a halt, he steadied his breath and squared his stance, refusing to show weakness.

"You blocked it, huh?" Hector said, both amused and curious. "Not bad. Let's see how long you can keep that up."

His body vibrated again, an unnatural blur, like the very fabric of his being struggled to contain the force within. Then he vanished once more.

Eric's eyes darted, tracking.

There!

Hector reappeared, this time directly in front of him, and unleashed another punch, faster, heavier, impossibly stronger.

Eric's vision sharpened just enough to see it coming. He raised his guard again, but the moment his arms intercepted the blow, he knew something was different.

This one wasn't just strength, it carried recoil.

A shockwave exploded from the point of contact. Eric was launched backwards like a missile, boots dragging long lines across the tiled floor before he lost all friction.

The wall behind him crumbled under the force of his impact. Stone and dust rained down.

Then, it was a curved downward freefall.

"Dammit!" he cursed, his voice whipped away by the wind as he flew through the gap and tumbled into open air. The world spun, gravity pulling him toward the rooftop of the adjacent high-rise.

He landed with a crash.

Tiles cracked beneath his weight. Eric groaned, rolling onto his side and planting one hand against the rooftop to steady himself. It had all happened in seconds. But that wasn't what left him reeling.

"What the hell just hit me… was that really just his fist?"

His breathing slowed. His mind raced. He had faith in the density of his mana, the integrity of his internal flow. His body was no stranger to punishment, and with his refined energy composition, even severe injuries could be mended with enough focus and control.

But this wasn't about recovery anymore.

This was about understanding.

Across the rooftop, Hector leapt down from the broken wall above, landing as though gravity were a suggestion. He rose with a smug tilt of the head, voice ringing out.

"Let me guess, you're wondering how I did that," he said, pacing casually. "How did I land a hit like that when we're both boosting our strength with the same technique?"

He chuckled.

"Mana infusion is simple, really. Anyone who's studied the path can enhance their body, strengthen their limbs, increase speed, endurance, resilience. But there's a catch, isn't there? There's always a catch."

Eric stayed crouched, listening, observing.

"In most duels between mystics, the difference comes down to the art they wield, the quality of their mana, or the way they channel it through their system. Veins, organs, nerves, all of it. Get it wrong, and your enhancement is unstable. Get it right, and you get what I just gave you."

That much Eric understood. The fundamental truth behind mana enhancement wasn't new to him. He'd studied it, trained in it, mastered its application.

And with his Clover Eyes, he had an edge, an awakened ability that allowed him to analyze his own body and those of others. With it, he should be able to optimize every strand of his mana to maximize physical performance.

So why was Hector still one step ahead?

They were built similarly. In terms of physique, there was no vast gap. Hector's body wasn't some hulk of muscle towering above Eric's lean frame.

And yet… the power disparity was undeniable.

"It stings, doesn't it?" Hector said, staring at him like he could read his frustration. "To throw everything you've got into every move and still feel like you're running behind."

Eric rose slowly, shoulders tense, jaw clenched. Those words from Hector pressed on him, heavier than any blow.

Frustration? That was putting it mildly.

He was infuriated.

It wasn't just the physical hits. From that? He could recover from. It was the mental game, the psychological pressure. The inability to pinpoint Hector's edge. The absence of answers. The gnawing fear that even with every ounce of effort, it might not be enough.

Regardless, he wasn't going to let that show.

To open his thoughts to his opponent is to give them all the edge they need. Eric knew that much.

With a breath, he straightened fully, eyes narrowing, the burn of resolve hardening his stance.

His body bore no visible wounds. A normal man would have been a red smear on concrete by now. But Eric wasn't normal. None of them were. He was a mystic. And mystics didn't break easy.

He looked to the distance building.

The penthouse.

Ramprandt was still trapped up there, along with Marvelous. The gulf between buildings granted him the freedom to fight without holding back. But the very thought of leaving them unattended gnawed at his chest.

Alone. Surrounded by armed enemies. Anything could unfold in his absence.

Hector had made a promise, no harm would come to them while this duel played out.

But promises were air. And loyalty among terrorists was thinner still. Hector's word might hold weight with some, but with dozens of unpredictable gunmen roaming the compound, the margin for error was razor-thin.

Too risky.

Much too risky.

Eric clenched his fists.

He couldn't let this battle drag out. He had to find the answer. Had to tip the scales. Because the longer this fight lasted, the higher the chances of disaster spiralling out of his control.

And that, he could not allow.