Page 73 of Marked By Him

Several members in the audience laugh at the humiliation.

A few seconds in, and I’ve already made him look a fool.

Seung-min pushes himself back up, barring gritted teeth at me like a rabid dog. He’s even more emotional now, more enraged.

He launches himself at me in a quick combination of hits. His fists fly and his leg sweeps through the air. I counter him as he advances toward me, sliding back to block each of his blows. They’re the first of many.

He’s in full attack mode, throwing out strikes and kicks with little precision, hoping just one will stick. He finally gets lucky.

His fist cracks across my cheek. My head whips to the side, the sharp pain immediate. My vision turns fuzzy for a brief second before I push through and manage to dodge his next hit. I duck as he sweeps his leg in a circular arc through the air. His body opens up for a blow.

Using this to my advantage, I drive my fist to the center of his chest. Right in the solar plexus. Seung-min stumbles back, the air knocked out of his lungs.

I’m on the offense now. I deal him another blow, leg snapping out for a side kick that takes him off his feet. He’s sent crashing down to the mat a second time to more jeers from the audience in the chamber.

But it’s going to take more than a few hits to defeat Seung-min.

He’s back up before I can slam my foot into him on the ground. He leaps up to his feet, executing another strike. I block his first and second attempts before his third lands. A painful left hook to the same cheek he’d struck earlier. The tender flesh throbs, sure to swell soon. I roll with the hit, letting the pain bloom, never losing sight of his next move.

We’re fighting so hard, throwing so many strikes, that everything’s a blur.

He folds over in order to duck a roundhouse kick from me. Then follows up with a hook kick to my dominant leg.

This time,I’mthe one sent slamming into the mat.

Seung-min is on me at once. He leaps on me, straddling my chest, throwing down his fists at my face. Blow after blow lands even as I attempt to block and overturn our position. His fists rain down, blood bursting from my nose and mouth. My cheek is swelling as predicted.

I manage to hold my arm up to catch one of his fists, then use my body weight to throw him off me. We tumble across the mat like a couple of wrestlers locked into a grappling match. We go from being on top, to me, then back to him.

My arms lock around his torso as I attempt to trap him in a submission hold. He thrusts his head back and slams his skull into mine. We rush to our feet again, half crouched as we circle each other like predators in the wild. We’re both leaking blood, both bruised.

Seung-min acts first. He dives at me. I swerve to the right, hiking my bent leg up to knee him in the stomach. Then crack my elbow down on his back.

The audience is louder than ever, screaming and applauding every time one of us lands a hit.

As Seung-min stumbles then recovers, he rushes at me again. He goes for my eyes like the desperate, emotion-driven motherfucker he is. He sinks his fingers in them, trying to gouge them out, then knees me in the gut like I had him.

I pry his hands away as fiery, burning pain explodes in my eyes and my vision waters. The first real pulse of rage courses through me.

Seung-minwouldbe pitiful enough to gouge at my eyes. He wants to win so badly, he’s willing to do anything. Discipline pushed aside for once, I retaliate with a series of combo maneuvers.

My agility is on full display.

He can’t keep up. I’m like a machine, hurling strikes and kicks at him one after another, forcing him stumbling back as he tries, and eventually fails, to block them. I leap into the air, spinning fast, my leg out in a cut kick.

“ARGH!” Seung-min groans as he’s sent flying onto his back.

I land in my natural fighting stance, heaving air, dripping blood, ready to end this.

He springs to his feet, feeling the same. Except he whips out a switchblade from the waistband of his pants.

The crowd roars.

I catch the glint of steel in time. He charges at me, slashing the blade. I twist, but not fast enough; a shallow cut stings open across my side. I’ve experienced much worse. He lunges a second time, not so lucky as I narrowly escape his reach.

Closing the distance between us, I take the offensive again. His blade, and other cheap tricks, won’t stop me from coming out on top.

A brutal series of kicks follows. All swift. All accurate. All delivered in crushing fashion.

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