The finesse was gone.
No speed. No grace. Just two bodies pushed past their limit, trading pain.
Caster's left arm dangled uselessly at his side—dislocated, the shoulder visibly swollen.His forehead throbbed, a deep bruise swelling shut his left eye, turning half the world into blur and shadow.
Ultron wasn't faring any better.
His clavicle was cracked, shoulder trembling with every motion.Two ribs broken, the fourth and fifth—every breath a sharp knife.Bruises coated his frame, purple and black spreading across metal-hard skin.
The ring was silent.
No crowd noise. No cheers. Just the sick rhythm of boots scraping the mat.
Caster stepped forward first. His gait was uneven, chest heaving. He swung a wide, clumsy right hook.
Ultron didn't dodge.
He took it.
His head jerked sideways, spit and blood flying.
He staggered—one step. Then swung back with his right.
A short, sharp jab—low, aimed at Caster's gut.
Thud.
Caster folded slightly, gasping. His ribs weren't broken, but the pain shot through his spine like a whip.
He surged with a desperate shove—using his weight, not technique. His right shoulder slammed into Ultron's chest.
Crack.
Ultron's broken ribs caved further. His knees buckled slightly, breath caught in his throat.
But he didn't fall.
He wrapped an arm around Caster's back—tightening, dragging him into a dirty clinch.
No style. Just pressure. Just damage.
Caster grimaced, trying to pull away. His left arm was dead, and in close range, he had no room to swing.
Ultron raised a knee.Once. Twice.Each hit slammed into Caster's thigh and hip, trying to drop him.
The third was weaker. Ultron was slowing.His body trembled. The cracked clavicle protested every move.
Caster snapped his head forward—A headbutt.
Forehead to forehead.
Smack.
The pain exploded across both skulls.
Caster reeled back, seeing white. His vision swam, blood seeping from the swelling above his brow.
Ultron stumbled a step, blinking—but didn't go down.
Both stood there.
Swaying. Heaving. Bleeding.
Then—
Caster spat blood. "Still standing?"
Ultron didn't answer.His jaw clenched. His shoulders squared.
He stepped in again.
A short, ragged punch.Caster ducked under it—barely—his right arm coming up in a clumsy uppercut.
Crack.
It landed.
Ultron's head snapped up. He stumbled. Dropped to one knee.
But didn't fall.
He looked up at Caster with cold, unreadable eyes.
Caster's legs were shaking. His heart thundered in his ears.He was breathing through his mouth now—shallow, broken breaths.
He took a step forward. Then another.
Ultron surged up from the floor with a final, brutal shove.
They collapsed into each other. Fists flailing, shoulders slamming, heads ducking and driving. No rhythm. Just raw instinct and hate and fire.
Bodies collided.
They collapsed into each other—Fists flailing.Shoulders slamming.Elbows and knees thrown without technique, without thought.
Just violence.
Caster's right hand cracked against Ultron's jaw.Ultron's elbow drove into Caster's ribs in return.
They were barely conscious.Barely human.Just instinct and exhaustion wrapped in skin and blood.
Then—
"Enough!"
The voice cut through the room like a thunderclap.
A shadow stepped between them.
Instructor Rock.
He didn't walk. He stormed.
One hand caught Caster by the collar, pulling him back with effortless strength.The other landed flat on Ultron's chest, holding him in place without force—just weight. Presence.
"You idiots want to tear yourselves apart, do it in the woods," Rock growled, voice like gravel grinding metal. "Not under my ceiling."
Caster sagged in his grip, legs no longer holding.Ultron fell to one knee, eyes still locked on Caster—breathing ragged, jaw clenched.
Rock glanced between them—his gaze sharp, cold.
"Neither of you wins. You'll both die in the dream realm if you pull this crap there. You're both too dumb to stop, and too much pride to retreat. That's not strength. That's just stupid."
He released Caster, letting him slump to the mat.
"You," he barked, pointing at Ultron. "Go to the healers. Now."
Ultron didn't move for a second. Then, slowly, he rose—shaky, holding his ribs—before turning and limping toward the exit.
Rock looked down at Caster. "That shoulder's done. You're lucky you didn't snap your spine with that posture."
Caster coughed blood into his sleeve. He tried to speak. Couldn't.
Rock stood.
"Class dismissed."
No one cheered. No one clapped.
Just silence.
Two monsters had bled for pride.
And Rock had reminded them both—
This was still a school.