After the Fierce Battle

My left eye was covered by blood, and I narrowed the range of my perception to focus on the immediate area around me, increasing my precision.

By narrowing my focus, my reaction time to long-range attacks slowed down. If I were attacked with a projectile, it could be dangerous. However, for now, it’s better to focus on the opponent right in front of me.

Due to the strong impact to my head, I might have suffered a mild concussion, and my footing was unsteady. I wanted to take the time to recover, but with my blood spilling, I couldn’t afford to fight for long.

Feeling the dilemma, I looked at the hobgoblin, and it had already recovered from the pain in its fist. Its eyes, filled with strong will, glared back at me.

The hobgoblin had shaken off the shock of its broken fist in just a few seconds.

Living creatures are weak to pain.

No matter how determined one is, pain cannot be completely ignored. So, I imagine the pain in advance and mentally prepare myself to endure it.

Those with strong mental fortitude are the ones who can suppress pain, but only after preparing their minds. An attack that catches you unprepared is far more difficult to handle.

If you ask a boxer, “What’s the most effective punch?” many would answer, “The one you didn’t see coming,” or “The one you didn’t expect.”

When the mind isn’t prepared to receive an attack, living creatures become extremely vulnerable. And that includes to pain.

The hobgoblin guided my dodging direction, destroyed my guard, and then delivered a finishing blow straight to my exposed face. It probably didn’t anticipate retaliation or the severe pain that came with it.

I took the punch with the hardest part of my head. This is a technique that boxers from the bare-knuckle era would have naturally possessed.

Even in modern boxing with gloves, many boxers hurt their fists when blocking with their heads. Naturally, this technique is also found in karate.

But, such techniques probably don’t exist in this world.

Moreover, a hobgoblin, who has likely only fought humans on rare occasions, wouldn’t have been able to imagine such a reaction.

At the moment it was certain of its victory, its fist was shattered.

Overwhelming shock. Unimaginable pain. The mental turmoil and agony would normally incapacitate anyone. Yet, the hobgoblin managed to recover in just a few seconds. Could I do the same?

The hobgoblin’s physical strength was at the level of Gonz, its battle sense was excellent, but what was truly terrifying was its mental strength.

Perhaps it was because of the blood loss, or the mild concussion, or perhaps it was the hobgoblin’s sheer force of will that pressured me. Most likely, it was all of these factors.

My body was trembling. Was this fear? Don’t be consumed by it. Fear isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It’s proof that I still want to live. I’m scared because I still want to survive.

Then, I can’t afford to be paralyzed by fear. I need to steady my breath and circulate oxygen. I need to recover as fast as I can.

I forcefully turn my negative thoughts into positive ones. I deceive myself. Doubt has no place in this fight.

To keep my damage and fear hidden, I glare intensely at the hobgoblin. Our gazes collide. The perception of time stretches, and it feels like a long, drawn-out stare-off.

The moment our gazes met was probably just an instant. But the extended time felt thick and prolonged, turning that single moment into a long and dense period.

The stare-off ended, and the hobgoblin closed the distance.

“RAAAAGH!”

The hobgoblin roared as it rushed toward me.

With the fist that was shattered.

I knew it would do that. I didn’t flinch, and calmly deflected the attack.

Damn it, my lower body isn’t stabilizing. My body is flowing. If I stay in this position, I’ll be pushed back. I need to counterattack.

The hobgoblin’s attacks were relentless. Counterattacking was out of the question. I was starting to struggle, and its strikes were grazing my shoulders.

When a blow landed on my broken shoulder, a wave of intense pain coursed through me. The pain delayed my reaction, and I couldn’t manage to deflect the attack properly.

I was falling into a vicious cycle, and my movements were deteriorating. I was overprotecting my injured shoulder, and my defense on the uninjured side became sloppy.

A well-placed blow landed on my uninjured shoulder, and my body was pushed off course. This is bad! I thought, but just as that moment passed, my body moved instinctively.

Having been struck on my shoulder, I used the momentum to twist my upper body and perform a full rotation, delivering a backhand blow.

This was the one and only rotation technique I was good at, despite my dislike for spinning moves. Since I wasn’t wearing gloves, I didn’t strike with the fragile back of my hand but with a hammer fist.

The iron hammer, accelerated by the tension of my entire body and centrifugal force, made my arm scream in pain and tingle with numbness.

The hammer, with such intense acceleration that it caused damage to my own body, slammed into the hobgoblin’s cheek.

I had thrown the punch while off-balance, forcing it out. As a result, it didn’t hit a critical spot, but the accelerated hammer struck deep into the hobgoblin’s cheek and crushed its molars.

The Hobgoblin staggered and lost its balance, but quickly regained its stance. I took advantage of this opening and closed the distance to the hobgoblin, pressing my fingertips against its chest.

The hobgoblin felt no damage from the touch of my fingers and lunged toward me with a biting attack.

I kept my fingers pressed to the hobgoblin’s chest while kicking the ground with my back foot. I used my front foot to brake, shifting my weight, and channeled the energy to my upper body.

Coordinating my joints, I moved my body as if performing a normal thrust. I clenched my fist and thrust it into its chest.

This was a technique known as the “One-Inch Punch”.

With a crack, my fist sank into its chest, and the impact pierced through its heart. The hobgoblin’s movements, which had been forcefully trying to bite me, froze for an instant.

I took advantage of that moment and drove my fingers into its eyes. I changed the punch into two piercing jabs and pushed them deep into the frozen hobgoblin’s eyeballs.

Before the hobgoblin could scream from its destroyed eyes, a kick aimed at its groin crushed its testicles.

The hobgoblin bent forward in pain. I immediately followed up with a high kick aimed at its exposed cervical spine.

This wasn’t the typical karate-style snapping roundhouse kick; rather, it was a powerful, force-driven high kick that I swung in a wide arc, using centrifugal force from behind to strike with full impact.

The shin of my leg sank deep into its neck, and just before the energy was fully transmitted, I snapped my leg away. The hobgoblin collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

Its eyes and testicles were destroyed. Even in that condition, the hobgoblin continued to struggle, trying to move its body.

Its heart, its soul, had not given up on fighting.

I approached the hobgoblin. The words I spoke wouldn’t reach it, but I still spoke to it.

“Out of all the opponents I’ve fought, you were the strongest. Your physical strength, your battle sense, and most of all, your heart were the strongest. You are a true warrior, and I respect you from the bottom of my heart. You were strong. You were terrifying. I will never forget you.”

I crushed the hobgoblin’s skull beneath my heel.

The emotions I felt weren’t sadness nor the sense of achievement from defeating a fierce battle. It was only respect for an unnamed warrior.