Chapter 586: Marcus and Sarah [1]
Marcus had spent enough time inside the dome to learn what a Surpasser’s aura felt like. He had brushed past many of them during the tournament’s preparations and during the retreat. The heavy, dense pressure the man in front of them was emitting matched every one of those interactions.
There was no mistaking it.
Marcus’s legs turned to lead as he watched the man walking toward them in slow, casual steps. It was clear to Marcus that the man was not in a hurry, there was nowhere for them to run.
A bloody grin split his face beneath the hood. His weapon still dangled from his hand gently.
Marcus’s mouth opened to say something, but before he could get the chance, the Surpasser closed the distance so fast that Marcus felt as if his vision skipped a few frames.
One moment the man was meters away. The next, he was standing directly in front of Marcus, his free fist already driving forward.
The punch landed in the exact center of Marcus’s solar plexus.
Every cubic meter of air in his body left him at once. His diaphragm seized and his lungs felt like collapsing. The impact lifted Marcus off his feet and threw him backward across the clearing at an insane speed.
BAM!
He hit the dome’s outer surface making it ripple as the barrier rejected him completely.
There was no cushioning to the impact. His body slammed into the barrier and bounced off it with the same force he had been thrown at. He hit the ground hard, rolled twice uncontrollably, and came to a stop in a heap of broken rubble.
His ribs were on fire. Something inside his chest had certainly broke. Multiple things, including his left shoulder which felt as if the joint had come out of its socket. His right knee had also been destroyed.
All of those injuries came from a single punch.
Marcus struggled to breath. He opened his mouth to plead for mercy, but only a wet, choking rattle came out.
The Surpasser walked towards him at a casual pace, taking his time, savoring every step. His grin hadn’t faded and his eyes glinted beneath the hood.
He arrived above Marcus’s body.
He looked down. Then, his boot came down on Marcus’s already-dislocated shoulder.
CRACK!
Marcus screamed, spit and blood mixing as they left his mouth.
What air had returned to his lungs left again in a burst of raw agony. The Surpasser ground his boot slowly against the joint, twisting it, forcing it deeper into the wrong position.
Marcus tried to twist away but his body wouldn’t cooperate. His good arm flailed uselessly against the ground.
"Oh, that’s a nice sound." The Surpasser tilted his head. "Do it again."
Marcus cooperated unwillingly.
The Surpasser reached down casually and grabbed Marcus by the front of his robes. He hauled him upright with one hand, letting Marcus dangle a foot off the ground. Marcus’s broken knee twisted beneath him from the pull.
Fresh pain spiked through his leg making him grimace and cry out once again.
The Surpasser’s free hand rose.
Slap!
He backhanded Marcus across the face.
The blow rocked Marcus’s head to the side, breaking his nose from the impact. Blood sprayed across his cheek and his vision blurred for a moment before flickering back into focus.
The Surpasser reset his grip and backhanded him from the other side.
His other cheekbone cracked.
The Surpasser then dropped him.
Marcus hit the ground in another heap. His face was already swelling. His mouth tasted like copper, and multiple teeth had come loose, he could feel them moving around against the inside of his cheek with each breath.
Marcus didn’t even have the energy to spit them out.
The Surpasser crouched beside him.
His hand moved almost tenderly, gripping Marcus’s hair and lifting his head just enough to force eye contact.
"You’re a rich boy, aren’t you? I can tell from your face. Your gear is not bad too, someone spent good money making sure you looked the part."
Marcus’s mouth opened. Blood ran out.
"Do you have any idea how much fun it is to break rich boys?" The Surpasser grinned wider. "You always assume the money will save you. That your sponsor will come out of nowhere and pay for your recovery.
That the medical wing will patch you up and send you home. You never actually think about the pain until it’s happening. And then you get to experience it fresh, without any of the calluses that street fighters build up. It’s beautiful."
Marcus tried to speak but only a wet, muffled sound came out of his mouth, in which might have been the word, "please."
The Surpasser laughed.
He dropped Marcus’s head and stood back up. His boot came down on Marcus’s already-broken knee. Marcus’s scream this time came out higher, cracking on the edges of what his throat could still produce.
The Surpasser lifted his boot and stepped back to watch him writhe.
Marcus’s remaining working hand scrabbled at the dirt. His breathing was shallow, his eyes open and wild.
The arrogance he had worn as armor since young, the dignity he had carried as the son of a powerful family, all of it was gone. Torn out of him in the span of thirty seconds.
"Please... please... I’ll..."
The Surpasser tilted his head.
"You’ll what?"
"I’ll... I’ll join you..."
The words dragged themselves out of Marcus’s throat. His face was already swelling around the words, making them harder to shape.
"I don’t... I don’t have any loyalty to the... to the Association... I’ll work for you... just... please..."
The Surpasser stared at him for a moment.
Then he threw his head back and laughed.
When he stopped laughing, he turned toward Sarah.
She had been standing still throughout the entire exchange. She hadn’t moved or spoken. She hadn’t even raised her weapon. Her hands were empty at her sides.
Her expression was unreadable.
The Surpasser’s grin widened as he looked at her.
"Well? Are you not going to help him?"