Chapter 149: His Limits
Suddenly, Lars extended his leg, his foot hovering just above the ground like a poised snake ready to strike. Arthur dashed forward with a rapid kick aimed at Lars' midsection. After Lars retracted his leg just in time, blocking Arthur's foot with his shin, a sound rang out like a drumbeat that echoed in the arena.
The crowd couldn't tell what to expect!
Arthur didn't relent. Legs still raised, he attempted a kick aimed at Lars' head. Again, Lars met the challenge with his forearm, deflecting Arthur's foot away.
The audience marveled at the fluidity of their exchanges, witnessing a level of skill that transcended the ordinary. Their simple attempts felt almost choreographed while holding an unpredictable control that kept everyone on the edge of their seats.
Arthur pressed forward, rushing in with a jab that aimed directly for Lars' throat. Lars moved, blocking the attack just as easily as he had before.
It became a battle of wits as they engaged in a close-quarters exchange, arms swinging out.
Arthur attempted a backhand, but Lars ducked smoothly underneath, arching back just enough to avoid the swing. As he emerged upright, Arthur seized the moment, going for a swift chop across his collarbone. But with cool determination, he positioned his forearm to intercept, causing the sharp sound of flesh meeting flesh to echo through the arena.
This was no ordinary fight—it was a battlefield of fists.
The two continued to probe one another, each anticipating their opponent's moves with a level of acumen reserved only for those truly worthy to call themselves fighters.
Lars attempted to counter Arthur's efforts with a sharp elbow strike, but Arthur dove low, almost instinctively, sidestepping the attack.
As they momentarily disengaged, Arthur took another quick sidestep, aiming for a counterpunch. Lars caught it with the same hand he had tried to use for an elbow strike.