If Ed was fast, Mogus was faster than fast. I could almost see the magic he worked forcing his forward lunge to turn him into a human javelin. His fist came around from his side once he got within range, and I could again see the shifting of his muscles under his skin. I cloaked my own fist in a layer of ice and met his incoming attack.

*BOOM*

The sound of our fists striking one another echoed through the enclosed space. We were now just inches apart, and man, that intimidating. I coated my other hand in ice and met his other fist as it came around toward my face.

*BOOM*

Again and again we slammed our fists into the other’s fists. Again and again, the echoing sound of the collision rang out. Then, as if on cue, we both jumped back and began circling. I smirked and rushed in, slamming my ice-clad fists against his abdomen in rapid succession. I barely saw the strike coming when his fist connected with my jaw, knocking me a few paces back. It was a shock, to be sure, but at the same time it told me what I needed to know. The rime covering his abs didn’t shift when he threw the punch, so he could only focus on one augment at a time.

He brushed off the coating of ice and resumed his boxing stance. I steadied myself and smiled, a little blood trickling from my mouth where my teeth had cut the inside of my lip. I dashed inward again, slamming one icy fist into one of his knees. A pained roar erupted from his throat as I jumped backward, clearing his counter strike.

I saw the look of rage and frustration on his face, I knew his weakness and he didn’t like that. I also saw his arm muscles getting bigger, more magic pumped into them as if to make it clear that he wanted this to hurt. Then he jumped from his half crouch, his arms raised to deliver a flying haymaker. It would have been devastating had it hit, but I was faster than he was. His injured knee made that clear.

I slid under him as he came down, and as he landed I rammed two frozen punches into his back. I then used him as a springboard to put distance between us. He spun and tried to grab my leg as I soared backward, but only caught air. This elicited another roar from his depths, and as I rolled to my feet, he closed in again.

I used my half crouched position to push myself off the ground and into his abdomen again, striking with a staccato of blows to his unguarded stomach and then an ice covered elbow to his uninjured knee before he could strike at me. His chop to my shoulder brought me to my own knees, but also gave me an idea.

I bounced back before he could strike again. I needed to time this just right. So I motioned for him to come at me, an action that seemed to only fuel his rage and his once more enhanced fists. I waited until his strike would have collided. Wait, wait, wait…. Now!

I grasped his arm and slid under his wide stance with it, sending myself in an arc that landed me on his back, and then I yanked as hard as I could. There was a sickening “pop” as his shoulder gave up his arm. I released and jumped off into the sand about ten feet from him. I then got up and turned to face him.

He lumbered around and looked at me; pain on his face, rage in his heart, and a desire to smash me into little bits in his eyes. His arm dangled, unsupported by the socket it normally would have occupied, useless. But I saw the muscles tone themselves down and his other arm stretched his skin to the bursting point with muscles. He winced as it happened, either because of the strain on his skin or the movement around his dislocated shoulder, I couldn’t tell which.

We glared at one another a few seconds longer, and then he charged me. His movements were sloppy, likely due to pain disorienting him, and it was then that I knew the fight was over. His fist almost hit me, but I took a quick hop backward and he slammed it into the ground. His missed strike put his head down to a level I could actually hit, so I did what I knew I had to. I slammed both hands onto his ears with all the force I could muster, the cold of my ice gloves mixed with the sheer physical power behind the strike made the clap almost deadly.

Mogus fell, slowly, onto his good arm. His eyes had rolled back into his head, his face was blank, and I saw the magic in his arm dissipating. I shook my arms and the ice gloves vanished into a mist. The announcer slowly made his way to where we stood and checked for a pulse. He looked at me and nodded, Mogus would live to fight another day.

The announcer then hopped to his feet and raised my arm to the sky, “And that’s why we call him the champ, ladies and gents! Give it up for the king of icicles, Jack Frost.”

“Is he going to be alright? The medics can get him patched up?” I whispered to the announcer.

“Yeah, he’s not going anywhere in the next few days, but he’ll live. That last strike would have killed lesser mortals, you know.” He hissed back. His skills included appraisal of persons he touched, so I knew Mogus would be fine.

“What do you have to say to the crowd there, champ?” he then said, projecting for the audience.

I grinned, “Let this be a lesson for those who would challenge me! I’m not going to hold back!”

Another few rallying cheers and I was escorted out to the fighter’s waiting rooms as the medics came in and grabbed Mogus. It gave the crowds time to buy refreshments and place their next set of bets. It also gave fighters time to reflect on the fights they had just been through.

Moments later, the medics wheeled Mogus through the doors. He was awake, that I could see, but he was in a state of disorientation. He managed to catch sight of me and stopped the medics, he had something to say. I took a breath and strode over to him.

“Hey, big guy, how are you holding up?” I aksed.

He lifted his uninjured arm in a sign that he wanted me to grasp it, “I’ve never had a fight that left me on the floor like that. Maybe I should have asked you to hold back a bit, still seeing double. Though, I have to say, I demand a rematch when I’m back up and moving.”

Grasping his hand with my own I said, “You almost had me there. That one punch you landed was devastating. If I hadn’t been paying attention to where I hit you, I might not have caught your weakness. That would have changed the fight entirely. Same applies to if you had strengthened any other part of your body instead of your arm there at the end.”

Mogus laughed, “Yeah, when the blood gets rushing I don’t think too clearly. My instructors at the Hunter’s Association school tell me that it’s a failing of mine.”

I was shocked for a second. “You’re training to be a hunter? Man, you’ve got some way to go at this rate.”

That earned me a nasty look, “And what makes you the authority on that?”

I grinned, “I’m an Unres. You know what that means, yeah?”

“Son of a… yeah, I know what that means. I never stood a chance! What happened to not toying with me?”

I patted his chest, “I never toyed with you. I gave you my all and kept my head during the fight. My instructor… my partner taught me to keep your head and find the weak point. She drilled it into me just as hard as I was drilled physically by my assassin teachers. When you get that down, you’ll understand what it takes to be a hunter.”

Mogus groaned and waved at my words, “Whatever. You have another fight to prepare for. I would watch, but I cannot track movement just yet. Give the other two hell.”

“Always.”