Elite at Eighteen

Clayton stopped in midair, his restless gaze constantly sweeping the space before him as he searched for Sparta.

Not in front of him.

Not to the left.

Not to the right.

No matter how hard he tried, even when he nearly popped his eyes out, he still could not find him.

Just then, a sharp whoosh came from behind Clayton. The sunlight was blocked out, and a shadow fell over his head.

He abruptly turned to look behind him.

Sparta had appeared behind Clayton, his right palm raised high above his head.

"Smack!"

With a thunderous crack, Sparta slapped him across the body.

Clayton was sent flying like a cannonball, his body tracing an arc through the air before crashing heavily into the ground. Dust billowed, and shattered rocks flew everywhere.

Sparta hovered in the air, quietly looking down at Clayton, who was engulfed in dust below.

"Have you had enough?"

"If not, I don't mind teaching you a few more lessons."

To Sparta, killing Clayton was as easy as an adult killing a baby.

He did not even need to use his full strength. Even using only a fraction of it, he was confident he could take Clayton down alone.

And that was the meaning of training every day.

"Damn it."

Clayton struggled up from the dust. He shook his slightly dazed head, clenched his back teeth, and stared fixedly into the sky.

Why was the gap in strength so enormous?

"I don't believe it!!"

Rage clouded his mind as Clayton roared and launched another attack.

He had completely forgotten the pain in his body. His legs slammed into the ground, cracking the earth from the recoil.

Clayton shot into the sky like an arrow loosed from a bow, both fists clenched and his face twisted.

This time, Sparta neither dodged nor blocked. He simply hovered in place, a trace of boredom flashing through his eyes.

He did not understand.

They had clearly met for the first time in Recruit Company. Why did Clayton display such intense hostility toward him?

He was exhausted. Perhaps displaying an absolute difference in strength would make Clayton give up provoking him in the future.

With that thought, Sparta did not even move a finger, allowing Clayton's right fist to strike his left cheek.

"Bang!"

Sparta's cheek caught Clayton's fist without budging.

He remained exactly where he was, not moving an inch. Only his head was knocked slightly to the side.

That punch did not hurt him in the slightest.

Sparta endured the force coming from Clayton's fist and forcibly turned his head back.

"I have no interest in playing house with you here."

With that, he reached out and smacked the fist from his face.

Clayton gripped his right wrist with his left hand and quickly retreated. Even with his left hand restraining it, his right arm continued to tremble uncontrollably.

Feeling the searing pain in his finger bones, he knew they had cracked.

"How is that possible..."

That punch had felt as though it had struck indestructible steel.

"There is nothing impossible about it."

Sparta answered calmly.

Suddenly, the calm vanished from his face and was replaced by a savage expression.

While Clayton was still stunned, Sparta drew his right fist back and slammed a Thunderous Haymaker into Clayton's face.

Clayton plummeted from the sky at several times the speed he had arrived, his body wreathed in flames as sonic booms erupted in rapid succession, like a falling meteor.

"BOOM!!!"

Amid a violent quake, Clayton's body smashed a mountain hundreds of meters tall into collapse.

The shockwave uprooted trees for several kilometers around. The animals living in the forest did not even have time to flee before the violent blast tore them to pieces.

Rubble scattered in every direction, while dust surged into the sky in the shape of a mushroom cloud, blotting out the entire heavens.

Elsewhere, Jayce stared dumbfounded at the mushroom cloud rising in the distance. He could do the same, but how old was Sparta? Eighteen!

And he was over five hundred years old!

Reaching elite-level strength at eighteen was something that had never happened before.

"Sir, this..."

"Oh boy, Clayton really got a taste of hardship this time."

"So strong! As expected of the hardworking Sparta!"

"..."

The recruits gathered around Jayce and chattered away.

It was their first time seeing Sparta make a move. They had not expected him to go so big on his first showing.

Luke looked at the mushroom cloud in the distance and swallowed. "It seems he did not need my help before."

Thinking about how he had stood up to Clayton for Sparta when he had first joined Recruit Company, he could not help feeling a little embarrassed.

Sparta loosened his clenched fist and, without pausing, turned and flew toward Jayce and the recruits.

That punch had been powerful, but it still could not kill an adult Viltrumite. At the very least, it would make Clayton suffer.

After a long while, the mushroom cloud dispersed. Clayton lay on his back in the center of a massive crater hundreds of meters wide, his entire body covered in rubble and dust.

His skintight battle suit had long since been torn to shreds. The exposed skin was covered in bruises and scratches, while half his cheek had been ripped open, revealing his blood-soaked, sunken cheekbone, gums, tooth sockets, and roots.

All he could hear was a piercing ringing in his ears. His vision was blurry and doubled, while blood continuously streamed from the wound in his torn cheek.

"Cough, cough... cough!"

Clayton suddenly spat out a mouthful of bloody foam. Trembling, he braced an arm against the ground and tried to pull himself up, but the pain throughout his body made even that simple task impossible.

His half-risen body collapsed again.

"That punch sure had some kick."

Jayce led Sparta and the recruits to the edge of the crater.

"He needed a lesson."

Sparta naturally folded his arms over his chest, his gaze flicking toward Clayton, who lay on the ground with only his chest rising and falling.

He hoped Clayton would remember that punch, and remember that the weak had no right to provoke the strong.

He did not think he had gone too far. If he had truly wanted to kill Clayton, he could have used a hand chop.

Rather than leaving him barely alive.

"You think I'm praising you?"

"Something like this happened on your first mission. Are you trying to challenge my authority?"

Jayce shot Sparta a cold glare and spoke irritably.

"Losing a combatant will make the following missions much harder to handle."

"I do not want there to be a next time."

Faced with Jayce's warning, Sparta did not give a damn.

What the hell was he babbling about? My left hand dealt high damage, my right hand dealt even higher damage. No gimmicks, just raw stats.

"Hmph! Two of you, go bring him back."

Seeing that Sparta remained silent, Jayce snorted and ordered the others.

Two nondescript recruits stepped out from the crowd, people Sparta barely remembered at all.

The two flew together toward the center of the crater, crouched down, and helped Clayton up.

Jayce did not look at Clayton. Instead, he said to everyone, "Big Mouth Star's situation has already been reported to the higher-ups, but they have not responded yet."

"Our only task now is to continue waiting on Big Mouth Star for the higher-ups' next instructions."