Chapter 502: The Grand First-Year Combat Festival: Gun vs Blood Rematch IV

Ezra leaned backward, allowing Desmond’s punch to pass within inches of his face.

The force behind the punch created a violent gust that swept across Ezra’s face, pushing his black hair aside and making several strands flutter behind his head. The movement was small, but the speed of Desmond’s attack made it clear that a single mistake at this distance could turn the fight around.

Almost immediately, Ezra sprung backward while keeping his grip on Desmond’s elbow.

His hand moved with him.

Instead of continuing to hold the elbow, Ezra’s fingers slid along Desmond’s arm until they reached his wrist. His grip changed in the middle of the movement, with his thumb settling against the center of Desmond’s wrist where the veins ran toward the bones of his hand, while his other fingers closed around the opposite side.

Then Ezra twisted.

It wasn’t a large movement.

There was no dramatic swing of his arm or sudden display of strength. His wrist simply turned inward, and Desmond’s hand followed the motion because Ezra had already taken control of the joint.

Pain shot through Desmond’s left wrist.

His expression changed for the first time.

What surprised him even more was how little Ezra had moved to create such a painful position. The lock looked almost harmless from the outside, yet Desmond couldn’t pull his hand away.

His wrist was bent at an angle were trying to force it straight only increased the pressure.

Desmond’s eyes narrowed.

He understood the problem.

Ezra wasn’t merely gripping his wrist.

He was controlling the direction in which the joint could move.

Desmond couldn’t release himself without first breaking Ezra’s control.

But instead of panicking, Desmond immediately swung his other hand forward.

His free arm came across in a sharp cross punch aimed at Ezra’s face.

Smack!

Ezra’s free hand moved.

He didn’t meet the punch with brute force. His palm caught the side of Desmond’s forearm and guided it away from his face, turning the attack just enough for the fist to pass beside his cheek.

At the same time, Ezra stepped closer.

The movement placed him inside the range where Desmond’s free hand had less room to generate force.

Then Ezra continued the same motion.

His hand turned inward.

Bam!

His palm struck Desmond’s right cheek.

Desmond’s head snapped to the side.

The blow was clean and hard enough to make his body shift with it, but Ezra didn’t release the wrist.

Desmond immediately tried to raise his knee.

His body still had enough freedom to attack with his lower half, and his knee began moving toward Ezra’s stomach.

Ezra noticed the movement.

His boot came down over Desmond’s boot.

The sole pinned it against the fight platform.

Desmond’s knee stopped before it could gain enough momentum.

The platform beneath their feet creaked from the sudden shift of weight.

Ezra’s hand moved again.

Bam!

His fist struck Desmond directly on the nose.

Blood immediately appeared.

Desmond’s head moved backward from the impact, but Ezra followed the motion instead of giving him room.

Bam!

The second punch landed.

Desmond tried to pull his locked arm away, but Ezra’s grip remained firm.

His wrist couldn’t move.

His boot couldn’t move.

His free arm had already been redirected.

And Ezra was standing close enough that every punch came from an extremely short distance.

Bam!

Another punch struck Desmond’s nose.

Bam!

The fourth punch landed.

Desmond’s head moved back again, and the blood from his nose ran down toward his upper lip.

The rapid movement of Ezra’s hand made it difficult for Desmond to catch the rhythm of the attacks. Every time he tried to find an opening, another punch arrived before he could properly respond.

The audience was beginning to understand what they were watching.

This wasn’t a normal exchange of punches.

Ezra had placed Desmond in a position where almost every option had been taken away.

One hand was locked.

One foot was pinned.

His attacks with the other hand were being redirected.

And Ezra’s punches continued to arrive.

Many of Desmond’s fans remained standing.

They had been cheering for him only moments ago, expecting the rematch between the two Ashenlocke and Derlis fighters to become another violent contest.

Instead, they were watching Desmond Derlis getting beaten down.

Some spectators stared with their mouths slightly open.

Others leaned forward in their seats, trying to understand how Ezra had managed to control someone physically stronger than himself without using an obvious Alchemy technique.

Even the people who supported Desmond couldn’t deny what was happening.

"Is Sir Desmond really being held like that?"

"He can’t get his hand free!"

"How is Ezra controlling his wrist?"

The voices overlapped across the Arena.

In the seating section reserved for the Elders and High-board members of the Duke Houses, the reaction was quieter.

Elder Fredricks Ashenlocke stared at the fight platform with complete disbelief.

His eyes followed Ezra’s hand, then Desmond’s trapped wrist, before moving toward the boot that kept Desmond’s foot grounded.

"You’ve got to be kidding me..."

The words slipped out under his breath.

This wasn’t how he had expected the fight to go.

When the match between Ezra and Desmond had been announced, Fredricks had already been certain of the outcome. He had believed Desmond would overwhelm Ezra, and he had been confident enough in that belief to make a bet with Elder Portia.

He had expected Ezra to lose.

Not narrowly.

Not after a hard-fought exchange.

He had expected Desmond to beat him badly.

That was why the scene in front of him was so difficult to accept.

Ezra wasn’t struggling to survive in the slightest.

He was controlling Desmond.

The Derlis child who Fredricks had expected to dominate the fight was standing there with one wrist trapped, one boot pinned to the platform, and his face being struck repeatedly by Ezra’s fists.

Fredricks’ expression became even more complicated as another punch landed.

Bam!

Desmond’s head snapped backward.

Fredricks could almost feel the weight of his earlier confidence coming back to mock him.

He had made that bet with Portia believing he understood the difference between the two fighters.

Yet Ezra was making that difference look very different.

"Who the hell is this Lowline?"

Fredricks muttered to himself angrily.

His gaze remained fixed on Ezra.

Back on the fight platform, Ezra’s fist was already moving again.

It was about to become his fifteenth punch.

Desmond’s eyes sharpened.

He had been taking the punches, but he hadn’t simply been standing there without thinking.

If his wrist couldn’t escape, and his foot couldn’t move, then he needed to create an opening somewhere else.

His head moved.

Desmond suddenly drove it forward.

"Enough!!"

Cognis rushed through his body and concentrated around the skin of his face.

His forehead hardened at the exact moment he drove it toward Ezra’s incoming punch.

Bam!

The collision happened at close range.

For a brief instant, the force of Desmond’s hardened forehead met Ezra’s fist.

But Ezra didn’t simply allow the impact to push him away.

His eyes immediately caught Desmond’s movement.

His hand adjusted.

Rather than resisting Desmond’s forward force directly, Ezra guided it downward.

The motion was subtle but deliberate.

His arm moved with Desmond’s momentum, his body shifting just enough to change the direction of the force.

Desmond’s forward movement continued.

Only now, it was no longer carrying him toward Ezra.

It was carrying him toward the platform.

"Eh?"

Desmond’s eyes widened.

His upper body suddenly dipped forward.

He realized what Ezra had done, but by then his momentum was already committed.

Ezra had redirected the force of his headbutt downward.

Desmond’s face moved toward the ground.

Ezra calmly released his wrist and stepped to the side.

The two briefly met eyes.

Desmond’s expression twisted.

This cheeky bastard.

His hand shot toward the platform.

Instead of allowing his face to strike the ground, he used his palm to guide his fall. His arm bent under his weight, his shoulder rotated, and he spun across the platform before recovering his balance.

Snow scattered beneath him as his body rolled.

The crowd gasped at the sudden change.

Desmond didn’t stay down.

He used the momentum of the roll to flip backward.

At the same time...

Bang!

A gunshot echoed through the Arena.

Then another.

Bang!

And another.

Bang!

The sound of repeated gunfire quickly followed.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Ezra now held his Glock 20 in his right hand.

His arm remained steady as he fired at Desmond’s back-flipping body.

Each shot was aimed at the position Desmond would occupy rather than the place where he had been a moment earlier.

Desmond twisted his body in midair.

His coat moved with him, and his boots passed through the air as he continued flipping backward.

The bullets tore through the space behind him.

He didn’t have time to land and prepare properly.

His hand moved toward his Space Bag while he was still upside down.

His fingers reached inside.

A blood bag came out.

Desmond immediately controlled it with Cognis.

There was no need for him to clap his hands.

He executed a no-clap Alchemy ignition while still in motion.

Crimson light flashed around his body.

Blood poured from the bag and spread beneath his hand as the Blood Alchemy began to activate.

Desmond pushed himself higher into the air, as his body rolled faster, then the blood followed his movement.

Whoosh!

Whoosh!

Whoosh!

Multiple blood needles shot outward during his spin.

They spread through the air from different angles, forcing Ezra to pay attention to more than Desmond’s body.

Ezra stepped backward.

His Glock 20 remained raised.

His eyes tracked the incoming needles.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

He fired.

The bullets struck several of the blood needles directly, breaking them apart before they could reach him.

Another needle passed close to his shoulder.

Ezra shifted his upper body slightly and fired again.

The bullet collided with another blood needle in midair.

The pieces scattered across the platform.

"WHOOOOOOAAAAAHHH!!!"

"Go Ezra Ashenlocke!!"

"Come on, Sir Desmond Derlis!!"

"Get your revenge!!!"

The Arena erupted.

The sound of hundreds of thousands of voices rolled through the enormous structure, mixing with the sharp reports of Ezra’s handgun and the wet sounds of Desmond’s Blood Alchemy moving through the air.

The fight had changed.

Until now, the exchange had been dominated by close-range combat.

Ezra had used his physical control and hand-to-hand technique to restrict Desmond’s movement, while Desmond had relied on his strength and endurance to find a way out.

Now both Alchemists had begun using their different Alchemies.

That meant the fight was entering another level.

Desmond’s foot finally touched the ground.

The instant it did, he pushed forward.

His excited smile had returned.

There were still traces of blood around his nose from Ezra’s punches, but the injury had already begun healing. His Blood Alchemy circulated through his body, and the wound was closing far faster than an ordinary injury should.

Ezra noticed it.

His gaze briefly moved across Desmond’s face before returning to his opponent’s hands.

He adjusted his stance.

His knees bent slightly, and his shoulders relaxed.

At the same time, Cognis passed through his arms and into his black magnetic gloves.

The gloves lit up with a faint white glow.

Thin circuit lines along the surface became visible as the Cognis traveled through them.

Desmond drew one hand backward while closing the distance.

The blood needles scattered across the platform began moving.

They were no longer flying randomly.

They crawled and slid across the ground before rising toward Desmond’s hand, drawn back under his control.

Ezra’s black eyes followed them.

Several needles rose behind Desmond.

Others moved around his side.

The blood gathered around his arm.

Desmond’s smile widened.

"Now I will show you the true power of the Fang Arts of Derlis!!"

His voice carried across the platform.

The blood around his hand compressed.

Instead of remaining as loose needles, the blood gathered into a single dense shape.

The liquid narrowed.

Its surface hardened.

A compressed blood dagger formed in Desmond’s hand.

He thrust his arm forward before Ezra could raise his gun.

At the same time, his other hand reached out and caught Ezra’s free hand before it could fully rise.

Ezra tilted his head slightly to the right.

The blood dagger passed within inches of his face.

He had barely avoided the blade.

Desmond immediately changed the movement.

The dagger pulled backward, shifting with his arm as the attack transformed into an elbow strike.

The blood blade remained attached to the elbow.

The transition was fast and fluid.

Many spectators struggled to understand what they had just seen.

One moment Desmond was thrusting forward with a dagger.

The next, the same blood weapon had moved with his elbow.

The technique didn’t depend on a single attack.

It allowed Desmond to change the direction and shape of his strike while maintaining pressure at close range.

Ezra moved his head to the left.

The blood blade passed over him.

He lowered his head, then raised it again after the elbow had already gone past.

The attack missed by only a narrow distance.

The speed of Desmond’s movement created another violent gust that swept across Ezra’s face and sent loose strands of black hair backward.

Ezra immediately brought up his Glock 20.

At this distance, there was almost no room between them.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Four shots exploded from the muzzle.

Desmond reacted immediately.

Clank!

One bullet struck the blood blade attached to his elbow.

Clank!

Another bullet was deflected.

Clank!

A third collided with the blood weapon.

Clank!

The fourth was also blocked.

Desmond jumped backward while moving his elbow with a fluid motion, using the blood blade to intercept the bullets.

The blood around his arm moved again.

He controlled it with Cognis, spreading it outward until it formed a blood shield in front of him.

The shield stopped the remaining threat between them.

Desmond landed firmly on the platform.

His left hand moved toward his back.

Cognis rushed through his arm and gathered rapidly in his palm.

The blood shield remained in front of him.

His breathing was heavier now, but the excitement in his eyes hadn’t disappeared.

"You aren’t the only one who can fire bullets."

Desmond grinned.

He slammed his hand against the blood shield.

A ripple spread across its surface.

The blood trembled.

Then...

Multiple blood needles shot out from the shield.

They flew directly toward Ezra.

Ezra immediately reached for another weapon.

His hand entered his Space Bag.

The Desert Eagle appeared in his grasp.

But instead of firing it, Ezra threw the Desert Eagle into the air.

His Glock 20 followed.

Both handguns spun upward.

Ezra jumped from the ground at the same time, his body turning as he rose.

The black threads connected to his Black Magnetic Gloves extended outward.

They caught the two handguns.

The magnetic force pulled them into position.

The weapons moved forward through the air toward the incoming Blood Needles.

The crowd watched as the two handguns and the crimson needles rapidly converged in the space between the two Alchemists.

The next exchange was already beginning.