Chapter 89: Assimilation Protocol.

Standing on the sidelines, Hunter’s face darkened. "Scotty!" he roared, his voice booming across the courtyard. "Stop dancing around like a little girl! Hit her harder! Move like you are trying to kill her. I want to see blood or teeth or on the ground."

Zyra turned her head his way quickly. She raised her hand, "Easy their tiger, I like my teeth where they are."

Spice hissed at Hunter, then looked at Zyra with worried eyes.

"It is okay Spice, I’ve got this, I am not losing any teeth." Zyra shouted as she flexed her shoulders. She spat and looked at Scotty. "Let us finish this."

Achilles groaned again. Had Zyra been watching too many action movies? The whole spit before putting on a tough act was so cliche. Clearly, she had never been in a real life or death bare knuckle fight.

Scotty sniffed, wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead. He shrugged, his expression turning serious. "You asked for it, Divine maiden." In a sudden spring, Scotty shot forward and closed the distance. He didn’t hold back this time. A heavy, straight punch flew forward, aiming directly for her face. Zyra tried to duck, but the sudden burst of speed caught her off guard.

CRACK!

The punch landed squarely on her nose.

"Oohh" Gasps rose from the watchers.

Zyra stumbled backward, her hands flying to her face. When she pulled them away, bright red blood was pouring down her upper lip, staining her clothes. She blinked rapidly, surprised by the ruthlessness Scotty had used, and his strength.

[Ha-ha-ha. At least you have your teeth.] Beauty laughed.

The rowdy crowd instantly went dead silent.

Hunter didn’t flinch. "Take five," he ordered calmly.

Yanxi immediately rushed over, looking worried, as she searched for the nearest medical kit. "Divine maiden, are you alright?" She asked, terrified.

Zyra waved her hand dismissively. "Zyra, call me Zyra." She winced.

Hunter walked over to Zyra, taking out a clean cloth and an ointment to reduce bruising. He gently wiped the blood away, tilting her head up. He checked her nose and declared, "No broken bones, get out there. We go again."

Zyra swallowed the copper taste of blood in her mouth, her eyes burning with fierce determination. She nodded sharply. "We go again."

"That’s my girl." Achilles cheered, but stopped when Hunter gave him a look, one that told him that he was over cheering and she was not his girl.

As Hunter stepped back, Zyra closed her eyes for a split second.

"Beauty," she called out internally, her voice echoing in her mind. "Activate the assimilation skill protocol."

[Done.] Beauty’s melodious voice resonated.

She stood on one side and Scotty on the other. Defeating him with her simple training was impossible. And honestly, she didn’t have the time to waste on months of training to catch up to him. He was taller, faster and far more skilled, his stance balanced and fluid.

She clenched her hands. "System, add twenty points to strength."

[Done.]

Zyra felt a familiar raw power purge into he muscles. She did not have any special moves, just kicking and punching. But with brute force, she could manage. "I will make a proposal. Whoever loses had to cry for their mommy." She proposed, with a sly smile on her face.

Achilles made a "Woo" sound. Others shook their heads or laughed and Hunter smiled.

Scotty snorted. "Don’t blame me when you lose."

Hunter blew the whistle and Scotty lunged first, sweeping low with a leg strike. Zyra countered with a heavy kick, the impact rattling the ground. Scotty spun, feinting with a jab, then pivoted into a shoulder throw.

She met him head-on, her punch crushing into his chest like a battering ram. Every move he made--grapples, sweeps, disarms, she answered with sheer strength, refusing to yield.

The system did not register any of those moves as worthy for assimilation.

Her breath came ragged, sweat streaking her face. "Show me your best move!" she roared, voice echoing against the walls.

Scotty’s eyes narrowed. He shifted, lowering his stance, then exploded upward in a blur. His body twisted mid-air, leg arcing like a blade, fist following in a seamless chain. The strike combined speed, precision, and crushing force a move honed by eight years of battle.

[Ding! Strike claw move detected, assimilation engaged.]

The virtual screen flickered before Zyra’s eyes, replaying the sequence in slow motion, every pivot, every angle, every ounce of timing and how much strength and speed was used. She absorbed it instantly, her body memorizing the rhythm.

She rolled out of the way as he landed on the ground, and exploded upward like he had done, mirroring the move perfectly. Her kick snapped upward, her fist followed through, the combination flowing like fire through her veins.

Scotty was too stunned to dodge, and she sent him sprawling backwards, into the rock Spice had been trying to break earlier. She dashed towards him, and stood over the man, chest heaving. A grin broke across her face. "Your strongest move is mine now. Now, repeat after me, mommy, I want mommy."

Their audience cackled and hooted, while Scotty covered his face.

Totally defeated and losing all sense of dignity, Scotty wailed, "Mommy! I want my mommy!"

From the edge of the clearing, a scruffy, long-eared hound covered its face with a paw. The dog let out a heavy, deeply embarrassed sigh, trotted over to them. It grabbed the collar of Scotty’s shirt with its teeth and slowly dragged his whining master away.

At first, there was absolute silence. The spectating soldiers stared, blinking. Then, a roar of laughter erupted.

"Hey Scotty! Does your mommy change your diapers too?" one man jeered.

"Beaten by a girl in under three minutes! Unbelievable!" another mocked, slapping his thigh.

Achilles and the Soul maidens were ecstatic, cheering loudly and waving their hands. But amid the celebration, Malia looked at the howling men and shook her head, a cold smile playing on her lips. "They still don’t get it," she murmured. "They think it’s a fluke. She just mimicked him perfectly! It takes years to get that good at one move, and she learned it in an instant. I think they should all be worried because they will be calling for their mommies."

Zyra raised a slender finger and pointed directly into the crowd.

Her next target was a mountain of a man. He was exceptionally big, looking incredibly strong, with a jagged, wicked scar running all the way down his throat...a grim souvenir from an eagle feral beast claw that had come too close to taking his eye and life.

"You," Zyra said, her voice cutting through the laughter. "You’re next."

The laughter died instantly. Achilles’ confident smile faded from his face. He stepped forward hurriedly, his voice dropping to a tense whisper. "Zyra, stop. That is Big Vince. He’s a veteran fighter from the beast pits. He doesn’t fight like these regular hunters. He kills for a living. He is not your match."

Zyra didn’t back down. She tilted her chin up, a mocking glint in her eyes, and looked straight at the giant. "What’s the matter, big guy? Are you scared of a little girl? Or does that scar on your throat make it hard to say yes?"

"Oh, by the heavens!" Achilles muttered, the woman was stubborn, more than Hunter even. The question was if it would get her killed?