A colossal, shimmering ring of pristine gold light hovered silently behind Lord Malkor, casting an absolute, unyielding radiance over the fractured bedrock floorboards. His physical form was a terrifying marvel of cosmic design—a tall, sinewy silhouette composed of shifting, dark obsidian-like skin, with internal golden light.
His head was a faceted, geometric diamond structure with a singular glowing core at its center, flanked by dark, curved horn-like crown.
A flowing, tattered dark cloak draped over his broad shoulders.
Opposite him, Tyson stood with his boots planted firmly in the loose gravel.
A brilliant, blazing golden aura erupted from his skin and rippled across his uniform like a solar flare.
"Stay back, Elias," Tyson said, his voice completely level as he kept his eyes locked onto the entity before him.
He didn't turn around, but his hand raised slightly to halt his brother. "Do not interfere under any circumstances. This is my fight."
Elias stood on the far sidelines, his knuckles white as he folded he's fist.
He could feel the sheer, suffocating pressure radiating from Malkor. "Tyson... don't die out there," Elias muttered, stepping back into the shadow of a ruined spire, his teeth grit as he watched the space between the two fighters begin to warp.
Malkor merely stood floating an inch above the ground, his faceted visage reflecting Tyson's golden aura.
"You have no chance of defeating me," Malkor spoke, his voice echoing not through the air, but
Tyson smiled. "We'll see about that."
*BOOM.*
The space between them didn't just close—it collapsed. Malkor utilized his evoliths to instantly erase the twenty-yard distance separating them.
He appeared directly in front of Tyson, his obsidian hand driving forward in a precise, linear thrust aimed straight for Tyson's sternum.
The punch carried no wind resistance because Malkor had temporarily suspended the concept of friction in the trajectory.
Tyson's eyes widened, his instincts firing at absolute peak performance.
As Malkor's knuckles came within a millimeter of his chest, Tyson violently flared his golden aura, activating his evoliths .
He didn't try to erase the kinetic energy of the punch; instead, he targeted the *Law of Inertia* acting upon his own mass.
Tyson bent the law to instantly multiply his own reaction speed by a factor of ten, allowing his torso to warp backward in a flawless, hyper-speed matrix dodge.
Malkor's fist sliced through the empty space where Tyson's chest had been a microsecond prior. Without breaking his momentum, Malkor pivoted on his heel, his dark cloak whipping through the air as he brought his left leg around in a vicious, horizontal head kick.
Tyson counterd with he's own kick.
*BANG—!!!*
The collision generated a blinding shockwave of golden sparks and dark cosmic dust.
"Impressive," Malkor noted, his geometric head tilting slightly as his dark tendrils rippled. "Your leg didn't even turn into dust truly fascinating."
Malkor pursued instantly, his form blurring as he unleashed a relentless, high-speed hand-to-hand combination.
He executed a rapid succession of straight jabs, palm strikes, and throat-chops, each strike perfectly tracking Tyson's vital points.
Tyson met him blow for blow. His golden aura flared intensely with every motion as he entered a high-level defensive weaving routine.
Tyson ducked underneath a razor-sharp left hook, stepped inside Malkor's guard, and delivered a short, explosive palm strike aimed directly at Malkor's exposed chest.
As his hand neared the dark, glowing embers of Malkor's torso, Tyson bent the *Law of Kinetic Transfer*. He engineered a localized loop where the energy of his strike wouldn't just impact the surface; it would compress and multiply exponentially upon contact.
Malkor, sensing the altered physics, didn't dodge. Instead, he twisted his torso mid-air, utilizing *evoliths* to slightly delay the passage of time across his chest armor by a fraction of a millisecond. Tyson's palm struck the dark tendrils, but the impact felt like hitting a frozen river of time—the kinetic energy was held in stasis, unable to penetrate Malkor's skin .
"My turn," Malkor murmured.
With his right hand, Malkor grabbed Tyson by the wrist. He instantly twisted the concept of "Distance" between Tyson's joints, making the small gap between Tyson's wrist and elbow feel like an immense, pulling vacuum.
Tyson gasped as a white-hot agony flared through his arm, his muscles screaming under the conceptual distortion.
*Think!* Tyson screamed internally, his nose beginning to bleed from the intense mental calculation.
Relying on pure combat genius, Tyson didn't pull away. Instead, he lunged *toward* Malkor. He used his free left hand to execute a perfect, high-leverage judo grip on Malkor's shoulder cloak. Tyson then bent the *Law of Gravitational Attraction* between their two bodies, multiplying the pull by a hundred.
The sudden, violent gravitational spike caught even Malkor off guard.
Their bodies were forcefully slammed together, breaking Malkor's conceptual hold on Tyson's wrist. Tyson capitalized on the close proximity instantly, driving his forehead forward in a brutal, golden-aura-infused headbutt directly into the center of Malkor's faceted diamond face.
*CRACK!*
A shockwave of pure golden plasma exploded from the point of impact, launching both fighters violently apart. Tyson spun mid-air, landing on both feet as his boots tore deep grooves into the stone floorboards. Malkor glided backward across the gravel, his glowing core flickering slightly as he raised his hand to touch the center of his geometric visage, where a tiny, faint fracture line had formed before instantly knitting itself back together.
From the sidelines, Elias watched with his breath completely caught in his throat. The speed of the exchange was completely beyond human comprehension—it wasn't just a fight of fists, but a rapid-fire calculation where every single punch changed the very definition of the room's physics.
"He's actually matching him," Elias whispered, his eyes wide with awe as he watched Tyson take a deep, grounded brawler's stance, his golden aura burning brighter than a star. "Tyson is really cool".
Malkor lowered his hand, his vertical ring of gold light flaring with an ominous, dark resonance.
"You are truly strong Tyson," Malkor said, his dark robes settling around his sinewy form. "No one has ever gone for to toe with me except for an alien called Valkhyre."