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墨書 Inktalez
Hulk gritted his teeth, roaring as he chased after the young man. His steps grew more frantic, fists swinging like a storm, trying to corner his opponent. Yet, the young man's figure darted like a flash of light, evading each of Hulk's punches just in time, leaving nothing but air in their wake.
"Haah—!"
Hulk's fist cut through the air with a heavy whoosh, but it always missed its target. His movements began to grow impatient, sweat trickling down his forehead, and his eyes reddening from the prolonged intensity of the chase. The more he pursued, the more he felt his rhythm completely thrown off, while that agile figure remained an elusive phantom, making every attempt feel increasingly hopeless.
Meanwhile, the young man's counterattacks became more precise. He moved continuously, his nimble footwork allowing him to glide effortlessly, and whenever Hulk exposed a weakness, his fists struck mercilessly at Hulk's torso. Each jab landed on Hulk's shoulder, ribs, and abdomen with sharp impacts.
"Smack! Smack! Smack!"
The force behind these punches was not great, but they were like relentless pinpricks, gradually sapping Hulk's strength and confidence. Under this unending barrage, Hulk's right side began to redden, muscles swelling slightly from repeated impacts. His breathing quickened, chest heaving violently as beads of sweat drenched his face.
"Damn it!" Hulk growled, trying to quicken his pace again, but his body struggled to keep up with his will. His movements became sluggish, and the power behind his punches began to wane. An unprecedented sense of defeat surged within him, as if he were facing not just a nimble opponent but an unwinnable game.
The spectators at the ring began to murmur among themselves; their initial expectations for Hulk were slowly turning into disappointment. Some even started to chuckle softly: "Is this really Hulk? He looks like a clumsy bear being toyed with."
These words reached Hulk's ears like fuel on a fire, igniting his rage to its peak; yet his fists still could not touch that swift figure.
Outside the ring stood a tall man whose smug smile had long vanished, replaced by deep furrows of discontent. With arms crossed over his chest, he fixed a piercing gaze on Hulk, a mix of dissatisfaction and disdain etched across his face. He muttered under his breath, "Is this my disciple? Talks a big game but can't even handle a middleweight rookie?"
He glanced at several attendants nearby as if seeking an explanation, but no one dared respond; silence fell over them, creating an oppressive and awkward atmosphere.
Mark stood in the shadows with arms crossed, coldly surveying the situation in the ring. He watched Hulk's increasingly erratic movements and the young man's fluid rhythm with a smirk that held no warmth.
"Just as I thought," he murmured disdainfully, yet his gaze remained fixed on the young man. He knew that the balance of this match was slowly tipping away from Hulk as the young man reclaimed control over victory in his own way.
Sweat dripped from Hulk's forehead, his heavy breaths echoing like a bellows in the ring. He accelerated and pivoted, trying to chase down the agile young man, but each failed sprint and missed punch felt like a heavy counterattack, draining his stamina rapidly. His massive body was already a burden, and now that burden was beginning to crush him.
Hulk knew that while his injuries were not as severe as those of the young man, the relentless drain on his energy was slowly eroding his advantage. His abdomen still throbbed painfully, and the swelling on his right ribcage was becoming more pronounced; each breath came with a faint sting, reminding him of the brutality of this match.
"I can't keep this up... If I do, I'll be nothing but a pig waiting for slaughter!" This thought flashed through Hulk's mind, igniting a fire of anger and defiance in his chest. His jaw clenched tightly as he fixed his gaze on the nimble young man before him, rage threatening to consume him.
With a low growl, Hulk raised his fists high. No longer would he blindly pursue; he quickly altered his strategy. His left fist jabbed out tentatively while his right followed with powerful swings, each punch aimed at the young man's upper body, forcing him to evade.
The young man maintained his agile footwork, sidestepping and gliding away from Hulk's fists. However, he soon realized that Hulk's punches seemed to have purpose; they were not merely attempts to chase him down but were deliberately guiding his movements. A frown creased his brow as he warily observed Hulk's every move.
A suppressed smile curled at the corners of Hulk's mouth as he increased the rhythm of his punches, creating an invisible net that gradually compressed the young man's space to maneuver. He roared loudly, a mix of anger and pride in his voice: "Run! Let's see how far you can go!"
As Hulk swung a heavy punch that missed its target, the young man quickly sidestepped but found his back pressed against the ropes of the ring. A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes as he instinctively looked down, realizing he had been cornered by Hulk.
Hulk laughed heartily, fists clenched tightly like a beast that had finally driven its prey into a dead end. His chest heaved dramatically, a cruel grin plastered across his face, eyes glinting with malice. He knew this was his only chance; at this moment, he had to completely crush his opponent.
"Run! Why aren't you running anymore?" Hulk's voice rumbled like distant thunder as he raised his fists high, all remaining strength seemingly concentrated in those two hands, ready to strike decisively.
The audience erupted into a frenzy beneath the ring; some clapped excitedly while others waved their fists and shouted, "Hulk, smash him!"
But Mark, standing in the shadows, merely tilted his head slightly, cold eyes fixed on the duel in the ring. He saw the young man cornered yet showing no signs of panic; in fact, there was an almost imperceptible smirk on his lips. Mark's lips curled slightly as he murmured to himself, "This show isn't over yet."
Hulk's roar was deafening; his eyes bloodshot and face twisted with fury. He resembled an uncontrollable beast channeling all its rage into a bellow: "Don't move! Stand still and be my target!"
He charged toward the cornered young man with fists raised high like two giant hammers about to fall. The young man did not evade; he understood there was nowhere left to run. He quickly raised both arms tightly against the sides of his face, assuming a basic defensive stance and bracing himself to absorb Hulk's heavy punch.
"Bang!"
The punch was heavy and powerful, the sound echoing across the ring, igniting the crowd into a frenzy. The young man's body jolted violently, his back slamming against the ropes, which trembled under the impact. His arms felt numb from the blow, and pain shot through his ribs like sharp needles, yet he stood firm, refusing to fall.
Seeing this, Hulk's lips curled into a manic grin, like a victor proclaiming his opponent's defeat. "Hahaha! How long can you hold on?" he laughed, swinging his fist again, wildly hammering down on the young man's upper body.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The fists rained down in rapid succession, causing the young man's body to sway violently; the ropes struggled to support his weight. His breathing grew frantic, sweat streaming down his forehead, but his arms remained steadfastly raised. From behind his guard, his eyes peered out, calmly observing Hulk with a glimmer of insight rather than despair.
Hulk seemed completely consumed by rage as he pounded relentlessly. The sound of his fists colliding with the guard grew increasingly frantic. Yet he failed to notice that his strength was waning rapidly. What had once been thunderous blows now felt like a storm gradually losing its fury; each strike was lighter than the last.
"Bang... Crack..."
The sound of his fists became thinner and thinner; the force that had once made the ground tremble beneath him could no longer pose a real threat to the young man. Hulk's complexion began to redden, his breath coming in heavy gasps like a bellows. His shoulders heaved violently, sweat cascading down his broad chest as his movements grew more rigid.
The audience beneath the ring started to notice these changes; their previously exuberant cheers faded into murmurs. Some began to whisper among themselves: "What's wrong with Hulk's strength? He doesn't feel as strong as before."
"He's been hitting too hard... Is he getting tired?"
A tall man standing at the edge of the ring wore a dark expression. His brows were tightly knitted, arms crossed over his chest, revealing a mix of dissatisfaction and concern in his eyes. He muttered under his breath, "This guy is wasting too much energy..."
Meanwhile, in the ring, the young man gritted his teeth, bracing himself against each impact. His gaze remained fixed on Hulk, eyes glinting with calm calculation. He knew that his opportunity was approaching. Hulk's punches were growing lighter, and the rhythm of his attacks was becoming erratic; this beast was slowly exhausting itself.
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