Then, after dodging and weaving for more than ten seconds, he could no longer avoid it. The monster was just a bit faster than him, and simply relying on evasion, the pressure kept mounting. He was forced to start blocking, entering the realm of close-quarters combat, and the danger level soared.

But the monster was also stronger than him. The first time he blocked, his body was left somewhat stiff from the impact, his speed dropped again, and he had to block once more. The monster finally closed in on him, its evil aura growing even stronger, bloodlust surging out. Both its arms spun like windmills, afterimages everywhere, as it began to pummel him madly.

He hated getting into these situations where injury was traded for injury. His only opponents had always been tree spirits, and with those thick-skinned brutes, trading blows was a losing game. Even if his wounds could heal quickly, the pain was still his to bear, and scars would still be left on his body.

He much preferred to stall until the train reached the station and hand this troublesome monster over to the police.

But that was no longer possible.

He took several hits in a row—even though he managed to protect himself, and the monster’s attacks didn’t cause any real harm, he still couldn’t help but crash into the train window, his arm throbbing with pain.

Spurred by the pain, he flew into a rage, no longer caring whether he got hurt. He took a blow from the monster head-on and at the same time landed a heavy punch on it. The result was that he was slammed hard against the window again, causing the specially reinforced laminated glass to crack in a spiderweb pattern, and his throat tasted faintly sweet.

The monster, meanwhile, was knocked off balance by his full-force punch, its assault halted as it staggered backward.

Immediately, the two of them adjusted their stances at the same time, regained their balance, and lunged at each other again, rolling and tumbling as the fight resumed.

The battle instantly reached a fever pitch.

……

Charlotte Sutton watched, dumbfounded.

She had witnessed many matches between excellent fighters—some with protective gear, some without; point-based, light-contact, full-contact with no rules, fights where you only won if your opponent couldn’t move anymore—truly, she’d seen a lot. But she could swear that this was the most intense fight she had ever witnessed.

After all, those were competitions. Even if both sides went all out, their goal was never to kill each other. But these two, after just a brief exchange, had instantly turned it into a life-or-death struggle, the killing intent so thick that even she could feel it.

It wasn’t pretty. In Charlotte Sutton’s eyes, there was no beauty at all in this fight between man and monster. Or rather, both sides’ fighting techniques were extremely crude—any fighter could point out countless mistakes. But it was truly, truly intense. In just a few dozen seconds, nearly half the train car had been transformed: seats shattered into pieces, hand straps scattered everywhere, support poles bent into “7” shapes, and several windows cracked.

And the two inside the car were still rolling and grappling, every punch landing with a thud, blood and sweat flying together, shouts and curses filling the air. Both sides’ defenses were growing weaker, only instinctively protecting their vital spots, pouring more and more strength into their attacks.

The brave young man took a claw blow head-on, ignoring the blood streaming from his shoulder, and lunged forward to pummel the monster’s head, landing a heavy hit that knocked the monster to the ground. But as the monster hit the floor, it lashed out with a powerful kick at the charging young man, sending him flying straight to the ceiling of the car, denting it with the impact.

When the young man fell, he seemed unfazed by what would have left an ordinary person breathless with pain. He rolled backward, sprang up, and faced the onrushing monster, bracing himself and charging back, slamming it hard into the wall of the train car.

The fight was unbelievably fierce—more exaggerated than a special effects movie.

Charlotte Sutton, while taking the opportunity to lead two elementary school students to another car, kept watching all this, her slender body trembling uncontrollably—the physical abilities of these two far surpassed ordinary people, making the fight so direct and violent that just watching made her adrenaline surge.

But when she reached the door between cars, ready to leave, she suddenly stopped in her tracks as she watched the fierce battle.

With two people whose fighting skills were both poor, once the fight reached this stage, it usually wouldn’t take long for a winner to emerge. The one with weaker physical abilities was very likely to lose, and that young man was the weaker one—he was very likely to pay a heavy price.

He might even die!

Charlotte Sutton hesitated for a moment, waved to the two elementary school students to signal them to go ahead, then gripped the utility knife in her hand tightly. On her delicate, melon-seed-shaped face, her expression gradually became resolute.

He was a brave guy. He’d had a chance to run, but he didn’t. So she couldn’t run either!

Chapter 9: Ruthless Lv99

Autumn Whitman was indeed in big trouble. He’d expected this monster to be hard to deal with, but he hadn’t thought it would be this ferocious—almost like a berserk half-orc.

He’d previously thought that if he couldn’t win, he could just hide in the demon-refining jar for a day and come out later. But now, facing this storm-like assault, he couldn’t break away from the monster at all, let alone hide.

Why hasn’t the train reached the station yet?

Have the police arrived?

Could it really be like in the movies, where the police’s main job is just to collect the bodies?

Damn it!