I give up on rest around 0400 hours, using the time instead for final preparation. The data on Crusher is frustratingly limited, a Dornian with enhanced physical capabilities that would make a heavyweight boxer look like a child. The combat footage shows raw strength and a surprising tactical awareness, but reveals little about his equipment or specific techniques.
"You're up early," Ember says, finding me reviewing footage in the main preparation area. Small flames dance around her hair, betraying her own sleeplessness. "Nervous about your solo match?"
"Cautious," I correct, pausing the footage showing Crusher hurling his massive body into an opponent like a battering ram. "B-Rank or not, this isn't the facility anymore. The rules are different here."
"The whole fucking place is different," she agrees, dropping into the seat beside me. "Desta's been trying to crack their systems all night. Says it's like trying to hack a quantum computer with a calculator."
The preparation area illuminates fully as 0500 hours approaches. Eli emerges from his quarters, gravity field already active around his hands, more stable than I've ever seen it. Desta follows, her expression neutral but her eyes occasionally flickering with frustrated code patterns.
A new alien figure appears at our section entrance—taller than Threllix, with multiple limbs and a carapace that shifts colors with its movements. "Asset Kinetic," it announces in a clicking, metallic voice. "Combat preparation sequence initiated. Follow for transport to Adaptive Plains sector."
My team gathers around me for a final moment before I leave.
"Don't show them everything," Ember advises, flames intensifying briefly around her fingertips. "Keep some surprises for when it matters."
"Dornian physical enhancement compensates for slow neural processing," Desta offers. "Precision targeting represents potential exploitation opportunity."
"In normal human speak: they're strong but slow thinkers," Eli translates. "Hit them where it hurts before they can react."
The transport tube descends rapidly through the artificial planet's crust, walls becoming transparent to reveal layer upon layer of complex machinery and energy conduits that keep this impossible world functioning.
The tube slows and opens onto a preparation chamber with walls made of some kind of living metal that shifts and ripples like liquid. A single path leads forward to the arena entrance.
"Combat commencement in ten minutes," my escort announces before retreating. "Victory conditions: incapacitation, submission, or administrative decision. Lethal force authorization: restricted to non-permanent damage parameters."
Alone in the chamber, I take a moment to center myself, extending my telekinetic awareness to the molecular level, the technique that gave me an edge in the facility. Not that it's a secret anymore. After my fights against Cinder and Vertex, my enhancement profile was fully documented. Whatever advantage my molecular-level telekinesis once provided has been analyzed, categorized, and shared with Central Arena's administration.
The entrance dilates open, revealing the Adaptive Plains beyond. It's unlike any landscape I've ever seen, a vast expanse of terrain that shifts and changes even as I watch. Parts of it remain solid ground while others transform into muddy pits, rocky outcroppings, or surfaces with impossible physical properties.
Across the constantly changing field, another entrance opens. My opponent emerges, and I get my first look at a Dornian up close.
Crusher stands at least eight feet tall, with gray-leathery skin stretched over muscles that bulge like steel cables. Bony protrusions extend from his shoulders, elbows, and knuckles. His head is disproportionately small compared to his massive frame, with deep-set eyes and a mouth full of grinding, flat teeth.
His massive fists are encased in wicked-looking metal gauntlets, not just combat enhancers but weapons designed to amplify his already devastating punches. Segmented armor plates cover vital areas of his torso and joints, the material gleaming with an alien alloy I've never seen before. On his forearms, he wears devices of unknown function, and a utility harness wraps around his massive chest. His feet are planted in specialized boots that seem to anchor into the ground with each step.
Even as a B-Rank fighter, he's better equipped than anyone I faced at the facility. It's abundantly clear that in the Central Arena fights aren't just about raw power, or even skill anymore. It's about resources, technology, and experience that new arrivals simply don't have.
"Combat between Human Asset Kinetic and Dornian Asset Crusher commences in 60 seconds," announces a voice that seems to emanate from the ground itself. "Central Arena protocols active. Observation systems online."
I notice countless floating drones circling the battlefield, capturing every angle of our impending fight. Above them, one of the massive observation platforms looms, its underside dotted with viewports where alien spectators watch.
Crusher pounds his gauntleted fists together, creating a shower of sparks and a thunderous sound that echoes across the plains. He bellows something in a guttural language I couldn't possibly understand, yet somehow, the meaning translates directly into my mind.
"Another soft-flesh transfer who thinks crushing their facility makes them worthy of Central Arena," the meaning comes through despite the alien sounds. "You all arrive with your high opinions, thinking you're special. Yet you break so easily."
I remain silent, focusing on my telekinetic awareness, analyzing the constantly changing terrain for potential advantages.
"I am only B-Rank," Crusher continues, his mental voice dripping with mockery. "They send me to welcome promising newcomers. To crush their spirits before they waste the administrators' time. You might hit S-Rank one day, but right now, you're just another warm-up."
He slaps a hand against one of the devices on his forearm, causing it to hum with energy. The harness across his chest pulses with a rhythmic pattern. Whatever those devices do, I'll find out soon enough.
"Combat commences in 3... 2... 1..."
The instant the signal sounds, Crusher hurls himself forward with shocking speed for something so massive. The ground literally trembles with each thunderous step, his specialized boots somehow keeping him stable despite the shifting terrain.
I dodge sideways, calling on my enhanced speed, but the terrain beneath my feet suddenly transforms from solid ground to something with the consistency of quicksand. My momentum falters as I sink ankle-deep into the muck.
Crusher laughs, a sound like grinding stones. "Adaptive Plains favor those who know them!" He slams his right forearm device, and suddenly the muck beneath my feet solidifies, trapping me in place.
What the fuck? Some kind of terrain manipulation device?
I have no time to analyze further as his massive gauntleted fist comes hurtling toward my face. I raise a telekinetic shield, but the impact still sends shockwaves through my body. The gauntlet seems to amplify his already devastating strength, and the shield barely holds.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
"Weak," Crusher taunts, raising both arms. The devices on his forearms glow brighter. "All transfers rely on the same tricks."
I pour telekinetic energy into the ground around my feet, trying to break free at the molecular level. The terrain finally cracks enough for me to wrench one foot loose.
Crusher doesn't wait, swinging a massive metal-encased fist that breaks my already cracking shield, catching me in the ribs. Even through my telekinetic reinforcement, I feel something crack. The blow wrenches my remaining trapped foot free and sends me sliding across the plains, pain blossoming through my torso.
"First blood to Crusher," he roars, his gauntlets gleaming in the artificial light. "Your telekinesis has no weight. My fists have plenty."
I scramble to my feet, trying to ignore the burning pain in my chest.
Before I can regain my balance, Crusher slams both fists into the ground. The impact creates a rippling wave through the terrain, but instead of just shaking the earth, the wave transforms into a rolling surge of stone spikes that race toward me.
I leap sideways, wincing as pain flares from at least one broken rib, barely avoiding the spine-like protrusions erupting from the ground. This fight is nothing like the footage suggested. He's not just strong, his equipment gives him tactical advantages I wasn't prepared for.
"Running already?" Crusher laughs, the boots anchoring him as the terrain beneath him shifts to a slippery surface. "Humans always run. Never stand and fight."
I need to understand his equipment better before I can counter effectively. The forearm devices seem to manipulate terrain, the harness collects energy somehow, and the boots provide stability on the changing plains. The gauntlets are straightforward enough, they seem to make his punches even more devastating.
Trying a different approach, I gather telekinetic energy and launch it at him in a concentrated wave. Crusher grins, crossing his armored forearms in front of him. My attack slams into him, but those forearm devices glow brightly, and to my shock, the force seems to dissipate harmlessly around him.
"Energy diffusion technology," he taunts, lowering his arms. "Central Arena provides tools for every challenge. What tools do you have, human?"
This is bad. Direct telekinetic attacks are ineffective against his equipment, and getting close means dealing with those bone-crushing gauntlets. I need a different strategy.
Crusher doesn't give me time to think. He charges again, each step causing the ground to tremble. I sidestep, but he anticipates the move, his experienced eyes following my every step. I see the attack coming and pivot, but pain explodes in my chest the moment I try to twist away. The hesitation costs me, Crusher’s gauntlet smashes into my shoulder, sending me spinning across the plains.
Pain explodes through my left side. The blow was powerful enough to dislocate my shoulder despite my telekinetic reinforcement. I roll to my feet, right arm hanging uselessly at my side.
"Half broken already," Crusher laughs, stalking forward with confidence. "No fancy equipment, no specialized training. Just raw talent. In Central Arena, talent means nothing without tools and experience."
He's right. He might not have my telekinetic powers, but his sheer strength and speed combined with his skill and equipment give him overwhelming advantages. My injuries are also slowing me down. I need to even the playing field.
As Crusher charges again, I focus my telekinesis on the ground beneath him. Instead of trying to affect him directly, I shift the molecular structure of the terrain just as he steps forward.
The surface shoots up unexpectedly, causing him to stumble. Not much, but enough for me to dart in close. Before he can recover, I target one of the connections on his right forearm device with molecular-level precision.
The component sparks and fails, causing the device to short out. Crusher roars in anger, swinging wildly with his left arm. I duck under the blow, but as if he already predicted my move, his follow-up kick catches me square in the chest, sending me flying backward into a sudden rock formation.
Damn it! That first swing was a feint!
I taste blood, my vision swimming from the impact. The kick cracked more ribs despite my telekinetic protection. Even with one of his devices disabled, he's still overwhelmingly powerful.
"Equipment fails. Dornian strength remains!" he bellows, charging again.
I roll aside as his gauntleted fist smashes into the rock where my head had been, shattering it to gravel. As he recoils for another strike, I spot a potential weakness, the power coupling connecting his harness to the remaining forearm device.
Drawing on my last reserves, I launch myself at him, ducking under a wild swing. My telekinetically-enhanced fingers strike the power coupling with molecular precision, disrupting the connection.
The forearm device shorts out in a shower of sparks, leaving him without terrain manipulation capabilities. Crusher bellows in rage, his massive hands reaching for me. I try to dodge, but my injured shoulder slows me down.
His gauntleted fist connects with my back, driving me face-first into the ground. The impact is like being hit by a truck, earth splinters beneath me from the force. For a moment, everything goes dark as pain overwhelms my senses.
When my vision clears, I'm lying in a small crater, blood pooling beneath me. Crusher stands over me, the harness across his chest glowing brilliantly now, apparently storing energy from successful strikes.
"You think I need my equipment to beat you?" he growls, the harness beginning to channel energy down his arms, making the gauntlets glow with deadly purpose. "B-Rank here is beyond anything you faced in your primitive facility. Central Arena breaks all of you eventually."
He raises both fists for what will clearly be a finishing blow. I have one chance, just one desperate play. Rather than trying to defend against the incoming attack, I focus all my remaining telekinetic energy on his gauntlets, not trying to block them but to understand their molecular structure.
As his fists descend, I identify the control mechanisms in the gauntlets, energy regulators designed to prevent feedback. With precise telekinetic manipulation, I disrupt these regulators just as the power from his harness feeds into them.
The effect is instantaneous. Instead of amplifying his punch in a controlled manner, the gauntlets overload, energy backfiring into the system. Crusher roars in pain as feedback surges up his arms, the gauntlets sparking violently.
I don't give him time to recover, dragging myself to my feet, every movement sending jagged blades of pain through my body. Blood streams from a cut above my eye, mixing with sweat that stings the wound. My left arm hangs uselessly at my side, dislocated shoulder throbbing with each heartbeat.
I charge at him as he rips his now useless gauntlets off his hands, gathering what remains of my strength and telekinetic energy. I drive my fist upward as he desperately tries to block with his burnt forearms, but he's too slow.
The strike connects with a nerve cluster at the base of his throat, a vulnerability identified in Desta's limited anatomical data. Enhanced by molecular-level telekinesis, the impact bypasses his body armor, sending a disruptive wave through his nervous system.
Crusher staggers, his massive form suddenly uncoordinated. I follow with a series of precisely targeted strikes to joint connections and neural pathways, each blow amplified by telekinesis.
"What... doing to me?" he manages, confusion replacing rage in his deep-set eyes.
"Fighting smart," I gasp through the pain, delivering a final strike to a cluster of nerves at the base of his skull.
Crusher's massive form goes rigid before collapsing to the shifting plains. He's not unconscious, but his limbs refuse to respond to his commands, temporary neural disruption rendering him effectively paralyzed.
"Dornian... never surrender," he growls, struggling unsuccessfully to move.
"You don't have to," I respond, barely staying on my feet. "I just needed you to stop trying to kill me for five fucking seconds."
"Combat concluded," announces the voice from the ground. "Victory by technical incapacitation: Human Asset Kinetic. Assessment parameters recorded."
I stand on the adaptive plains, every breath a new lesson in pain. Blood streams from the cut above my eye, mixing with sweat that stings the wound. My shoulder throbs with each heartbeat, and the cracked ribs make even shallow breathing an exercise in agony.
Medical drones approach, scanning both of us with beams of green light. The readout appearing in mid-air shows the damage: three cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder, internal bruising, and a mild concussion. Nothing fatal, but serious enough to compromise my effectiveness in the team match just six hours away.
Crusher's eyes follow me, rage replaced by something like grudging assessment. "You fight... differently than previous humans. Not just power... precision. You adapted."
"Equipment gives advantage," I manage, wincing as a medical drone begins resetting my shoulder. "But over-reliance creates weakness."
"New human baseline established," Crusher says as the medical drones work on both of us. "Next opponents... won't underestimate you."
As separate transports arrive to return us to our respective sections, I consider his warning. I've won my first match, but at significant physical cost. Even with the advanced medical technology they're already applying, I'll be fighting at reduced capacity when Team Exodus faces Brute Force in just a few hours.
If one B-Rank fighter nearly broke me in half, what the fuck will happen when they send a whole team after us?
CHARACTER PROFILE
Crusher
STR: 72 – Monumental physical strength, capable of overpowering most opponents with ease
SPD: 43 – Surprising acceleration for size, with explosive bursts of speed
RES: 65 – Exceptionally high durability and resistance to blunt trauma
CTL: 22 – Basic control over energy flow, relying on physical combat strategies
AWR: 39 – Experienced combat awareness, capable of predicting and countering familiar patterns
Enhanced Physicality
1. Kinetic Conversion Gauntlets
2. Adaptive Terrain Manipulation Devices
3. Impact Diffusion Armor
-
Equipment-Dependent: Disabling his devices significantly reduces his tactical advantage
-
Vulnerability to Precision Strikes: Molecular or neural disruption bypasses his brute defenses
-
Limited Adaptability: Struggles against unpredictable, highly versatile opponents