Despite taking a heavy blow to the abdomen, Serizawa showed no sign of faltering. If anything, he looked more eager to fight.
Some spectators relaxed a little. As locals from the California division, they naturally favored Serizawa and hoped he would win.
His opponent's explosive power had wiped away any trace of complacency. This was only the first match of the Finals, yet Serizawa had already run into a formidable foe.
Zhebulizi had become a puppet of Vought International. Though he now seemed more beast than man, he had retained his basic urge to fight.
Zhebulizi sprang forward, hurtling toward Serizawa like lightning.
Serizawa faced the attack calmly and brought his bat down in an overhead strike.
He had meant to force his opponent back. Instead, Zhebulizi raised one arm and blocked Metal Bat head-on, then reached for Serizawa's chest with his other hand.
Serizawa's expression changed sharply.
What kind of fighting style was this?
Serizawa had seen moves that hurt both sides before. But this was the Competition Ring. There was no need to fight to the death.
This was not even the final match. Even if Zhebulizi won this way, how would he fight in the matches that followed?
A normal person might consider what such a sacrifice would cost him later. Zhebulizi, who had all but lost his human instincts, had no such foresight.
He cared only about the enemy in front of him. Driven by the commands in his mind and his instinct to fight, he wanted to win every battle at any cost.
Metal Bat slammed into Zhebulizi's arm. Its thick muscles cushioned the blow, but Serizawa's strike carried tremendous force. A crack ran through the bone, and Serizawa felt it through the bat.
As Metal Bat cracked Zhebulizi's arm bone, Zhebulizi's claws tore several