Chapter 70: The Astralis Champion

"Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men who find it easier to live in the world they’ve been given than to explore the power they have to change it." — Muhammad Ali.

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Micah didn’t dodge.

He let go of the Widow’s Wail. The katana clattered to the broken concrete beside him.

He straightened up despite the pain in his cracked ribs and bruised lungs. Every breath was difficult, but he still raised his bare left hand.

Not the Widow’s Wail. Not the Phantom Carapace. Just his bare left hand.

Bolton’s halberd came down with the full, terrifying might of a peak Genetic Soldier.

The blade blazed with Flux energy as it came down, cutting through the air with enough force to split the arena floor in half.

The blade struck Micah’s palm.

The impact was deafening. The collision shook the ground and sent a shockwave through the arena.

The entire Coliseum trembled. The concrete beneath Micah’s feet exploded into powder.

The crowd braced for the aftermath. They expected to see Micah’s body split in two. They expected to see blood and bone and the end of the tournament’s most improbable run.

They saw neither.

Micah was still standing. His left hand was raised, and the halberd’s blade was resting against his open palm.

The weapon had stopped. The full force of Bolton’s execution strike nullified by a single, bare hand.

The Kinetic Reflection talent had absorbed the entire impact. Every ounce of force, every scrap of Flux energy, every bit of kinetic power that Bolton had channeled into the strike had been pulled into Micah’s body and held there, contained and compressed and waiting.

Bolton’s eyes went wide. His arms were still extended, both hands gripping the halberd that was now frozen against Micah’s palm.

He tried to pull the weapon back. His arms strained as his muscles bulged and the veins stood out on his neck. The halberd refused to move. It was held in place by an invisible force that Bolton could not overcome, understand, or escape.

"What are you?" Bolton whispered.

Micah didn’t answer, instead , he moved.

He drove his right fist straight into Bolton’s chest.

The Kinetic Reflection talent released every scrap of absorbed energy through his right hand in a concentrated explosion.

Bolton’s own power, the full force of his peak Genetic Soldier Flux output combined with the halberd’s amplified strike, was channeled into Micah’s fist and driven back into Bolton’s body.

The impact was catastrophic.

Bolton’s chest armor disintegrated. The high-tier military plating that had protected him through several tournament matches shattered into dust in a fraction of a second.

The Flux-reinforced material that was designed to withstand direct cannon fire was torn apart by the reflected force of his own attack.

The shockwave from the punch hit Bolton’s body and drove him backward with enough force to launch him entirely off his feet.

His huge body left the ground, his arms thrown wide, his halberd ripped from his grip by the force of the counter.

He flew across the arena, his body spinning once before crashing into the stadium’s reinforced outer wall.

BOOM!

The wall cracked. Bolton’s body hit the reinforced concrete with enough force to leave a crater in the surface.

Chunks of stone and steel rained down around him.

His halberd fell to the arena floor ten meters away, the Flux runes dark and dead.

He slumped to the ground. His eyes were closed. His chest was a ruined mess of shattered armor and bruised flesh. His arms hung limp at his sides, and his body was motionless against the broken wall.

He was unconscious.

The Coliseum descended into absolute silence.

A hundred thousand people stood frozen, staring at what had just happened.

The reigning, undefeated champion of the Astralis Elite Tournament had just been hit with his own power and launched out of the ring like a toy.

The referee stood at the edge of the platform with his flag still in his hand.

His mouth was open, and his eyes were fixed on Bolton’s unconscious body crumpled against the far wall.

He stared at Bolton’s unconscious body against the far wall, then at the damage around the arena. Broken pieces of armor lay across the floor, and part of the wall had been destroyed.

Ten seconds passed. Then twenty.

The referee’s arm finally moved. The flag rose into the air, trembling slightly.

"Winner! Micah Selman! New Champion of the Astralis Elite Tournament!"

The Coliseum exploded.

The crowd rose to its feet, shouting and screaming from every direction. The noise filled the arena as everyone tried to make sense of what they had just witnessed.

An unknown recruit in street clothes had just defeated the most dominant champion in tournament history.

It wasn’t by luck or by a cheap trick. It was by catching the champion’s strongest attack with his bare hand and sending it back.

Micah lowered his hands. His right fist was tingling with residual energy, the last traces of Bolton’s reflected power fading from his skin.

His whole body ached. He was still in deep pain. His ribs were cracked, his lungs were bruised, and the Phantom Carapace was barely holding together. But he was standing, and the fight was over.

He bent down, picked up the Widow’s Wail from the broken concrete, and sheathed it. The blade slid into the scabbard with a quiet click that was lost in the roar of the crowd.

He looked up at the competitor’s box.

Tasha was there, pressed against the railing with her hands gripping it tightly.

Her eyes were bright, and tears streamed down her face, but she was smiling.

She was screaming his name, but the sound was lost in the wall of noise coming from the crowd.

Her smile was the most genuine thing he had ever seen on her face.

Micah looked at her for a long moment. Then he allowed himself a small, brief smile of his own.

The tournament was over. He was the champion and he was ready for whatever came next.