Bully Lord

Part-86

With a surge of adrenaline and a flexibility James never knew he possessed, James launched himself upwards, delivering a powerful uppercut that arced through the air.  This time, the strike connected with the side of Ryan's neck, just below his jaw.  A sickening crack echoed through the training area, and Ryan's eyes widened in shock.  His body went limp, and he crumpled to the mat like a felled tree.

Panic flickered across James' face.  He hadn't intended to seriously injure Ryan.  Auto Combat, however, operated on a cold logic of winning the match at all costs.

James, chest heaving, stared down at the fallen Ryan, a sense of disbelief washing over him. Had he actually won?

But his moment of triumph was short-lived. A searing pain flared through his muscles, his legs threatening to buckle beneath him. A notification flashed in his mind – "Auto Combat Deactivated: Stamina Depleted (30%)." The System, once his relentless puppet master, had finally released its control.

James sank to one knee, gasping for breath. His body, pushed to its absolute limit by Auto Combat, now screamed in protest. Across from him, Ryan stirred. Disorientation clouded his eyes, but a flicker of determination quickly replaced it. He was about to concede, a grudging respect for James' unorthodox fighting style bubbling within him.

"Ouch," Ryan mumbled, wincing as he tried to push himself up.  "That… that last one hurt."

"Alright, alright," Ryan rasped, pushing himself to his feet. "You win this one. You fought well."

But James shook his head, his voice ragged. "No," he wheezed, "I can't… continue." Defeat, bitter and undeniable, settled in his stomach. He had tasted victory, however fleeting, and now it was ripped away.

Ryan, however, seemed genuinely surprised. "What do you mean you can't continue? You just knocked me flat on my back!"

A wry smile flickered on James' lips despite the pain. "There's more to it than you think," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. The System, his secret weapon, was a burden he couldn't explain.

Ryan frowned, his competitive spirit momentarily dampened by James' obvious distress. "Look," he said, extending a hand to help James to his feet, "whatever it is, you did good. Seriously good. You landed some hits I never saw coming."

James tried to stand up, but his muscles groaned, forcing him back into a sitting position.

"Hey," Ryan nudged him with his elbow, concern replacing the playful banter.  "You alright?  You look like you just ran a marathon."

James chuckled, the sound shaky.  "Yeah, I'm fine.  Just… tired."  He admitted defeat with a sigh.  "As I said, I can't continue.  Looks like you win, Ryan."

Ryan's jaw dropped.  "Win?  Are you kidding?  Let me tail you clearly... You practically knocked me out cold!  There's no way I could have continued after that last hit."

The look of genuine worry on Ryan's face touched James.  He realized, despite the initial hostility, Ryan wasn't a bad guy.  Maybe he really was crushing on Mili, but he had handled the situation far too unprofessionally.

"We can talk about it later," James said, forcing a smile.  "Right now, I need a break."  With that, he leaned against the wall, his body screaming for rest.