knees.
Elias moved like water flowing around a
jagged rock. He didn't take a traditional fighting
stance. His hands never rose to protect his face.
He simply swayed, dipped, and pivoted. Julian’s
left hook met air. The right straight glanced
harmlessly off Elias’s shoulder as the older man
rolled with the punch perfectly. And as the low
kick came in, Elias effortlessly lifted his lead leg,
checking the strike with the thick bone of his
shin, instantly nullifying the power.
Julian screamed in frustration. He was
throwing everything he had—combinations that
had knocked out professional fighters—at an
elderly janitor in overalls, and he couldn't land a
single solid blow. Every time Julian attacked,
Elias simply wasn't there. It was as if Julian was
trying to punch smoke. The harder Julian tried,
the more foolish he looked, swinging wildly,
completely out of breath, his technique
devolving into a chaotic, flailing mess.
For two agonizing minutes, the spectacle
continued. Julian, the prodigy, the terrifying
Viper, was being completely dismantled without
a single strike being thrown against him. He was
drowning in his own aggression, exhausting
himself against an opponent who refused to
engage in his chaotic game.
Finally, desperate and humiliated, Julian let
out a primal yell and lunged forward, shooting
for a double-leg takedown, intending to tackle
Elias to the hardwood floor and pound him into
submission. It was a sloppy, telegraphed move,
born of pure frustration.
This time, Elias did not evade.
As Julian lunged, Elias stepped forward,
intercepting the charge. His hands, previously
resting at his sides, moved with blinding speed.
With his left hand, Elias gently parried Julian’s
lead arm downward. With his right hand, he
guided Julian’s momentum, placing his palm
firmly between Julian’s shoulder blades. In the
same fluid motion, Elias swept Julian’s lead foot
with a delicate, precise flick of his ankle.
30
Elias didn't use any force. He simply took all
of Julian’s raging momentum and redirected it
toward the floor.
Julian flew through the air, completely
airborne for a terrifying second, before crashing
face-first onto the unforgiving hardwood with a
resounding, bone-rattling thud. He slid a few
feet, coming to a halt near the overturned mop
bucket, completely disoriented, gasping for air
that had been knocked from his lungs.
The dojo was gripped in an absolute,
suffocating silence. No one breathed. No one
moved. The invincible Julian Vance was lying in
a heap on the floor, defeated by the janitor in
less than three minutes.
Julian scrambled to his hands and knees,