Chapter 59: Korrak the Unbreakable

  The arena was alive with tension.

  The fourth wave had nearly broken Marcus—not just physically, but strategically. The assassins had been a clear violation of the trial’s spirit, a blatant attempt at his life. Yet, against the odds, he had endured.

  Now, bleeding, poisoned, and barely holding his stance, he faced the final wave.

  One last fight. One last opponent.

  The iron gate rumbled, groaning as it slowly lifted.

  The crowd fell into an uneasy silence as the final challenger stepped forward.

  Marcus recognized him instantly.

  Korrak.

  A hulking Rhino Beastfolk, standing nearly a full head taller than Marcus, his gray hide scarred from countless battles. His frame was pure muscle, his arms wrapped in heavy fighter’s bandages, each one stained with past victories. His broad chest bore a fresh tattoo—marking him as a champion of Canindrus.

  Korrak wasn’t just any opponent.

  He was the one who had defeated Thalron during the Trial of the Copper Fang Tournament. The warrior who had crushed opponents with sheer brute force, refusing to fall no matter how many times he was struck.

  And judging by the way he cracked his thick knuckles, rolling his shoulders in anticipation, he remembered Marcus well.

  Marcus exhaled, adjusting his stance. His vision was still hazy from the lingering poison. Stem had bought him time—but he wasn’t at full strength yet.

  Korrak grunted, his deep voice like rolling thunder. “I was hoping we’d meet, human.”

  Marcus smirked despite the pain. “Can’t say I feel the same.”

  Korrak chuckled, shaking his head. “Ive wanted to fight the winner of the "Trial of Copper Fang" tournament for some time now.

  Marcus tightened his fists. This was going to be brutal.

  The trial elder stepped forward, voice carrying through the silent stadium.

  “This is the final round of the Trial of Kings. No weapons. No armor. Only fists and Ki. This will be a test of endurance, strength, and skill.”

  He lifted his hand high. Then—dropped it.

  “BEGIN!”

  Korrak moved first, closing the gap in three massive strides.

  Marcus barely had time to react before a tree-trunk-sized fist came screaming toward his face.

  He ducked—just barely. The force of the punch created a shockwave that sent dust flying.

  Marcus immediately countered, twisting into a sharp right hook aimed at Korrak’s ribs.

  His fist connected—and it felt like he had just punched a boulder.

  Marcus hissed. Even with Ki reinforcement, Korrak’s body was absurdly dense.

  The rhino grinned. “Yeah, that won’t work.”

  Then he struck back.

  A devastating downward hammer fist.

  Marcus barely crossed his arms in time.

  CRACK.

  The force sent him crashing into the ground, the impact shaking the entire arena.

  Marcus groaned, forcing himself up.

  Damn. Even blocking hurts.

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  Korrak didn’t let up. He stomped forward, launching another brutal overhead strike.

  Marcus leaned to the side, avoiding the impact—but Korrak was already shifting, adjusting mid-motion.

  A crushing knee slammed into Marcus’ side.

  He barely managed to absorb some of the force with his arm, but the sheer power sent him skidding across the stone.

  Marcus coughed, shaking off the daze.

  Korrak wasn’t just strong. He was smart.

  This wasn’t just brute force—he was calculating every strike, adjusting based on Marcus’ dodges.

  And that meant Marcus had to change the game.

  “Stem,” Marcus grunted internally. “Give me something.”

  Stem’s voice remained steady. “Korrak is fighting at full capacity, using enhanced Ki reinforcement in every strike. His durability is unmatched, but his energy output is unsustainable.”

  Marcus wiped blood from his lip. “You’re saying I need to outlast him.”

  “Yes,” Stem confirmed. “Bait him into burning more energy. Do not trade blows. Evade. Force mistakes. Then counter.”

  Marcus exhaled slowly.

  Alright. Let’s tire him out.

  Instead of attacking, Marcus switched to full defense, and switched to his Philly Shell stance.

  Korrak charged, throwing another devastating punch.

  Marcus pushed the blow to the side—but not fully.

  He let the punch graze his shoulder, making it look ass if he had been struck.

  To the crowd—and to Korrak—it seemed like Marcus was losing his speed.

  The Rhino Beastfolk grinned, pressing harder. “Finally feeling those bruises, huh?” "I wore your buddy Thalron down like this too."

  Marcus didn’t reply. He just kept manipulating his opponents strikes—just slightly slower each time.

  Another punch. Another miss—but just barely.

  A knee strike—Marcus twisted out of the way, making it look like he stumbled.

  The crowd leaned in.

  Korrak growled in excitement. He smelled blood.

  Then, he made his mistake.

  Korrak overcommitted.

  He threw everything into a Ki-enhanced punch, expecting Marcus to be too slow to dodge.

  But Marcus wasn’t slow.

  He was waiting.

  The moment Korrak’s fist extended fully, Marcus stepped inside his guard.

  A vicious uppercut—right into Korrak’s exposed gut.

  CRACK.

  The Rhino choked, staggering for the first time.

  Marcus didn’t let up.

  A left hook to the ribs.

  A right cross to the jaw.

  Each strike landing clean, precise, and without wasted energy.

  Korrak reeled.

  He had spent too much Ki. His energy reserves were depleting.

  And Marcus was just getting started.

  Korrak roared, his massive frame lunging forward, throwing a final, desperate swing—a full-bodied haymaker, powered by the last reserves of his Ki.

  Marcus ducked under it, pivoting smoothly, his body moving with instinctive precision. The sheer force of Korrak’s punch tore through the air, displacing dust and loose stone, but Marcus was already gone, slipping past the attack like water.

  The Rhino Beastfolk’s overextended stance left him completely open. His balance compromised. His chest unguarded. His jaw exposed.

  Marcus didn’t hesitate.

  His entire body moved as one.

  He planted his foot, twisting his hips, generating momentum from the ground up—every muscle, every fiber of his being focused into a singular moment of execution.

  Then—he struck.

  A check hook, his gauntlet shimmering with Ki-infused energy, carving through the air like a falling meteor.

  It connected.

  The impact was instantaneous.

  Korrak’s head snapped back, his massive frame convulsing as a shockwave rippled through his body. The force of the blow sent a thunderous echo throughout the arena, shaking the very ground beneath them.

  For a split second—time seemed to freeze.

  Then—his knees buckled.

  The towering beastfolk staggered, his massive body swaying as if his very foundation had been shattered. His eyes flickered, consciousness slipping from his grasp.

  Then—he collapsed.

  BOOM.

  Dust erupted around him, stone fragments scattering as his immense form crashed against the battlefield like a felled mountain. The entire arena shook with the sheer weight of his fall.

  Silence.

  Not even the crowd made a sound.

  Then—a single voice rang out.

  The elder, his tone resolute, lifted his hand high into the air.

  “THE Challengers Gauntlet IS COMPLETE!”

  And with that, the silence shattered.

  The roar of the audience exploded, the sheer volume rattling the walls of the coliseum. Beastfolk warriors pounded their chests, nobles whispered in shock, and the spectators erupted into cheers, unable to deny what they had just witnessed.

  Marcus stood over Korrak’s fallen form, his own breath ragged, sweat dripping down his brow. His knuckles still tingled, his muscles burned, but through the exhaustion, a slow, satisfied smirk formed on his face.

  It was over.

  He had won.

  As the crowd roared in approval, Marcus turned, locking eyes with King Rathgor.

  The King watched him carefully, his expression unreadable.

  But Marcus wasn’t the only one Rathgor was watching.

  From the corner of his vision, Marcus spotted something—a flicker of unnatural movement near the balcony.

  A shadowed figure, blending into the walls. A hand reaching toward a concealed object.

  Then, a single silent gesture from Thane Vulgaris.

  The figure froze.

  Then—disappeared.

  Marcus narrowed his eyes.

  That was an assassin.

  Not part of the trial.

  Vulgaris had been planning something.

  And Marcus had won too quickly for it to work.

  As Vulgaris met Marcus’ gaze, his smug expression barely faltered.

  Instead, he simply smirked ever so slightly.

  Marcus’ stomach twisted.

  This wasn’t over.

  As Marcus stood victorious, catching his breath, Korrak pushed himself up—wobbling, battered, but grinning.

  “…Damn it,” Korrak muttered, chuckling. “You really don’t let up.”

  Marcus smirked, offering his hand.

  Korrak took it.

  “Next time,” Korrak said, “I’ll win.”

  Marcus shrugged. “We’ll see.”

  King Rathgor finally stood from his throne.

  “The human has won.” His voice carried through the arena. “The Trial of Kings is complete.”

  The crowd erupted.

  But Marcus’ eyes never left Vulgaris.

  The Thane simply clapped slowly, deliberately.

  His smirk never left.

  Marcus exhaled, wiping sweat from his brow.

  He had won.

  But this wasn’t the end.

  Not by a long shot.