"" You come here right now or else he'll will lose upon you the moment I come towards you"" said the man with the earth power
"" Ok,ok,ok I am coming out... Please don't kill me look I don't even have any divine blessings so I really can't do much to you ... So I will just leave bye~~"" said rudra with a slightly panicked face as he was trying to somehow making escape .
"" Stop right there, if you are man then you will stay here and fight me head on""
"" I identify myself as a woman which means I can go now... Bye~ "" said rudra shamelessly.
"" What the fuck"" said the man genuinely flabbergasted by Rudra's response.
"" Yeah so just leave me alone man i can't scratch you even ""
"" No we are fighting, that's how man fight "" said the man with serious""
"" But I told you I am a wom...""
"" Shut up and I don't have much mana either so it will be a fair fight and besides I do have a lot points because of defeating many people ""
Rudra's Pov
The jungle breathed like a living beast around Rudra—humid, restless, thick with the scent of wet soil and rotting leaves. Shafts of dying sunlight pierced through the canopy, striping the forest floor in gold and shadow. Every rustle, every distant cry of a bird felt amplified, as if the wilderness itself sensed the violence about to erupt.
Rudra tightened his grip on his talwar. The curved blade, forged in the desert heat of his homeland, had never failed him. It had cut through bandits, beasts, and even the armored hides of mana‑twisted creatures. But today, the steel felt strangely heavy, as if warning him.
Across the clearing, Ron Viper stepped out from behind a moss‑covered boulder.
He was barefoot, shirt torn, chest streaked with mud. His breathing was steady, but his eyes—dark, sharp, predatory—held a simmering fury. The earth beneath his feet seemed to respond to him, tiny grains of soil lifting and swirling around his hands like dust caught in a storm.
Rudra exhaled slowly.
" I am going to defeat you"
Ron smirked. "Big words for a man who's about to lose his only weapon."
Rudra didn't rise to the bait. He shifted his stance, blade angled low, ready to strike. The jungle fell silent, as if holding its breath.
Then Ron moved.
He didn't sprint—he launched, kicking off the ground with such force that clumps of dirt exploded behind him. His mana was weak, Rudra knew that. Ron's earth affinity was barely enough to coat his hands, nothing more. But even a thin layer of hardened earth could turn a punch into a hammer.
Rudra stepped forward, talwar flashing in a clean arc aimed at Ron's shoulder.
Steel met stone.
The impact rang through the clearing like a cracked bell.
And Rudra's talwar—his trusted blade—shattered.
Not chipped. Not bent. It exploded into fragments, shards of steel scattering like sparks. The shockwave numbed Rudra's arm up to the elbow. He staggered back, staring at the jagged stump of his weapon.
Ron stood firm, fist still coated in a thin crust of earthen mana. The coating flickered, unstable, but it had done its job.
Ron grinned. "Told you."
Rudra's heartbeat thundered in his ears. Losing the talwar in the first exchange was unthinkable. But he didn't have time to mourn the blade. Ron was already advancing, each step cracking twigs and sinking slightly into the soft soil.
Rudra tossed the broken hilt aside and raised his fists.
Ron's voice was low, almost disappointed. "You're going to fight me bare‑handed?"
"You broke my sword," Rudra said. "Now I break you."
Ron lunged again, swinging a heavy right hook. Rudra ducked under it, feeling the wind of the blow brush his hair. He countered with a sharp elbow to Ron's ribs, but it was like striking a tree trunk. Ron barely flinched.
The jungle floor shifted under Ron's feet as he stomped, sending a spray of dirt upward. Rudra shielded his eyes, but Ron was already on him, grabbing his forearm and hurling him toward a thick banyan root.
Rudra twisted mid‑air, landing on his shoulder and rolling to absorb the impact. He sprang up just in time to avoid Ron's follow‑up strike, which smashed into the root with enough force to splinter it.
Rudra circled, breathing hard.
Ron's mana was low—Rudra could see the earth coating flickering, thinning. But even a few seconds of reinforcement made Ron's fists deadly.
Rudra needed to outlast him.
He darted forward, feinting left, then driving a knee toward Ron's stomach. Ron blocked with his forearm, the earth coating cracking slightly. Rudra seized the moment, delivering a rapid series of punches to Ron's jaw, throat, and temple.
Ron grunted, stumbling back a step.
A step was enough.
Rudra pressed the attack, weaving between vines and roots, using the jungle's uneven terrain to his advantage. He leapt onto a fallen log, springing off it to deliver a flying kick.
Ron caught his leg mid‑air.
With one brutal motion, Ron slammed Rudra into the ground. The impact knocked the breath from Rudra's lungs. He rolled aside just as Ron's fist crashed down where his head had been, sending soil erupting upward.
Rudra scrambled to his feet, chest burning.
Ron wiped blood from his lip. "You hit harder than I expected."
"You break swords," Rudra said, "but you bleed like anyone else."
Ron's smile faded. His hands trembled slightly—the mana coating was nearly gone. He clenched his fists, forcing the earth to cling to his skin. It responded sluggishly, like wet clay.
Rudra saw it.
The weakness.
The opening.
He stepped forward—
—but Ron stomped the ground, sending a shock through the soil. The earth beneath Rudra's feet shifted, throwing off his balance. Ron surged forward, grabbing Rudra by the collar and slamming him against a tree trunk.
Bark dug into Rudra's back. Ron's fist drew back, earth‑coated and ready to crush bone.
Rudra's eyes narrowed.
He drove his forehead into Ron's nose.
Ron reeled back, cursing, blood streaming down his face.
Rudra dropped to the ground, rolling away as Ron swung blindly, rage overtaking technique. The jungle echoed with the sound of fists hitting wood, earth cracking, and Ron's frustrated growls.
Rudra steadied his breathing.
Ron was strong—brutally so.
But strength without control was a weapon that destroyed itself.
The sun dipped lower, shadows stretching long across the clearing.
Rudra raised his fists again.
The real fight was only beginning