Kleiman's expression grew serious.
His Jeet Kune Do technique, if used against an ordinary opponent, would have resulted in a one-hit kill with his first punch.
After all, he had learned this deadly art from the legendary Jeet Kune Do master known for his "one-hit kill" technique.
'This kid is no pushover.'
Yet the boy standing before him had not only evaded the first strike but also the second.
With this thought, Kleiman shifted his stance, clenching his fists and positioning them before his chest, one slightly ahead of the other.
Thud!
Kleiman stomped his foot and lunged at Illumi, unleashing a flurry of punches aimed at his head, each strike tearing through the air with a sharp whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.
"Too slow."
Illumi merely retreated with a smile, moving with uncanny foresight, already evading Kleiman's punches before they were even thrown.
"Heh..."
Mid-strike, Kleiman's lips curled into a smirk as he abruptly withdrew his fists.
Illumi's eyes narrowed, and his left arm shot up to block the attack.
Bang!
A kick launched into the air and slammed into Illumi's left arm, sending a cloud of dust billowing.
Bang! Bang!
Bang!...
Immediately following, Kleiman unleashed a relentless barrage of kicks.
Illumi raised his arms in front of him, defending with practiced ease.
Each kick drove Illumi steadily backward across the arena.
'This won't work.'
Kleiman's heart tightened as he observed Illumi's effortless composure.
To the untrained eye, Kleiman appeared to have the upper hand.
But in reality, every single attack was being perfectly parried by Illumi.
"Hah!"
Suddenly, Kleiman let out a sharp shout and shifted his strategy.
Instead of continuing his kicks after landing, he stepped forward and threw another punch at Illumi.
Bang!
This time, Illumi didn't evade.
Instead, he firmly blocked the punch with his palm.
Bang! Bang!
Bang!
Kleiman unleashed a rapid flurry of punches, but each one was met with Illumi's open palm, which steadily absorbed the impact.
The fighters' limbs blurred into afterimages as they moved with blinding speed.
Dust billowed from the arena floor, forcing the referee to retreat to the edge to avoid being caught in the crossfire.
"Ooh~ Sugoi! Sugoi~!!"
"Kleiman continues his relentless assault! Elbow strikes! Knee strikes! Kicks! Flying kicks! Spinning kicks!"
"Illumi's defense is impenetrable! No matter what martial arts style Kleiman uses, he can't break through Illumi's defenses!"
"Are these two war gods?!"
The commentator's passionate voice echoed through the arena, reverberating in every corner and igniting the audience's fervor.
"Sugoi! They're both incredible!"
"Keep going, Kleiman! Keep attacking!"
"Hang in there, Illumi!"
The crowd roared with excitement, the visceral impact of each strike making their blood boil.
Many, their faces flushed crimson, tore off their outer garments and cheered wildly.
"Eight-Armed Fist?"
Illumi suddenly spoke from within his defensive stance, causing Kleiman's brow to furrow.
Indeed, Kleiman was using the Eight-Armed Fist, a style renowned for its ferocity.
It uses eight "weapons", both legs, fists, elbows, and knees, to attack.
Originating from a small southeastern nation, this globally popular martial art is widely considered the most powerful striking combat technique.
"Hmph!"
Kleiman scoffed, spinning swiftly into the air and launching a flying kick aimed at Illumi's temple.
Whoosh!
Illumi jerked his head back, but a thin cut still appeared on his cheek, seeping with blood.
"Whoa~"
Kleiman, having landed a hit, widened his mouth into an O-shape and let out a "whoa" sound, striking a pose Illumi recognized well.
Illumi's eyes narrowed as he launched his own attack.
Kleiman stomped forward, charging at Illumi.
"Ha! Ha!"
Kleiman's shouts echoed through the arena as he abandoned his previous style, now fighting with unrestrained ferocity.
Punches, kicks, claw strikes, and straight jabs flowed seamlessly, relentlessly targeting Illumi's vital points.
"A-da!"
Kleiman's straight
Illumi grew slightly bored. No matter how Kleiman kicked and punched him, his expression did not change.
To Illumi, these attacks were mere tickles, utterly insignificant compared to Zebro's punches, which could easily weigh several tons.
The only reason Illumi had prolonged the fight was to observe Kleiman's so-called martial arts.
"Whoa!"
"Ladies and gentlemen, it seems we're witnessing a dramatic reversal of fortune!"
"Kleiman's hands are now completely restrained by Illumi, unable to break free."
"Despite Kleiman's relentless kicks, Illumi remains completely unfazed."
"No, it's more like an adult effortlessly enduring an attack from a three-year-old child, remaining completely unfazed."
"Hmm, this analogy doesn't quite fit the situation, does it?"
The commentator's enthusiastic voice cut through the air, voicing the audience's collective confusion.
"What's going on?"
"Are they even going to fight?"
"Hey, you two! Stop grappling and start fighting already!"
The crowd roared their impatience, eager for a brutal, bone-crushing brawl, not this motionless standoff.
"How disappointing. Is this the martial art you've honed since childhood, supposedly drawing from the strengths of a hundred styles?"
"Decades of training, since you were a child."
"In the end, you simply lack talent."
A look of disappointment crossed Illumi's face.
Kleiman clearly sensed the contempt in Illumi's words, and his anger flared.
"What do you know?!"
"You're just a brat who doesn't understand the true meaning of martial arts!"
"Someone like you, born with unparalleled talent..."
"How could you ever understand the burning desire of us weaklings to pursue strength?!"
Faced with Illumi's scorn, Kleiman's face twisted into a ferocious scowl as he roared his inner resentment.
Two streams of tears involuntarily welled up in his eyes.
"Why must martial arts rely on talent?!"
"Why are some people born to stand on the heads of others?!"
Kleiman's sudden, furious roar silenced the entire arena.
Even the commentator in the booth stopped describing the match, and the audience leaned forward, riveted by the sight of Kleiman weeping on the screen.
Illumi remained expressionless, unable to respond to Kleiman's anguished outburst.
He was not weak, so he could not truly empathize with the weak.
Yet he fully understood Kleiman's feelings.
At that moment, Kleiman was enveloped in pink smoke representing jealousy, pale green smoke signifying rage, and orange smoke embodying resentment and sorrow.
"Enough. This has gone on long enough," Illumi murmured.
It was time to end this match.
Illumi released Kleiman's wrist with his right hand, instantly clenching his fist, leaving only the second joint of his index finger protruding.
With a speed imperceptible to the naked eye, he struck Kleiman's forehead, philtrum, and jaw.
Bang! Bang!
Bang!
Three thunderous impacts nearly overlapped into a single, deafening sound.