Chapter 392: Chapter 392

The instructor's eyes widened as he barely managed to dodge the strike, but Lucas anticipated the evasion. Using the momentum, he spun around and delivered a sharp elbow to the instructor's side.

The impact made the instructor stagger backward, clutching his ribs.

Lucas panted, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I'm just getting warmed up."

The instructor let out a short laugh, standing up straight again. "So am I, Cadet. Let's see how long you can keep up."

With a new burst of energy, the instructor rushed forward, his movements even faster and more relentless than before.

The instructor did a sidekick, but Lucas blocked it with his left arm. Lucas wasn't done with just blocking—he gripped the instructor's leg with his right arm and pulled it toward him.

The instructor frowned, quickly responding with a punch to Lucas's chest.

Lucas rotated his body 90°, retaliating with a swift superkick toward the instructor's face. The instructor barely dodged—the kick brushing past his hair as he bent down and countered with a low kick.

Lucas was sent flying backward, crashing hard against the ground. He skidded across the platform, gasping for air as the impact reverberated through his back.

"Impressive," the instructor said, standing tall as he dusted off his uniform. "But you're not the only one with a few tricks."

Lucas gritted his teeth, quickly rolling to his feet. His muscles were starting to ache, but he wasn't going to let the instructor win so easily. He had faced tougher opponents before—he knew how to push his limits.

With a determined look, Lucas took a deep breath and steadied his stance. "That all you've got?"

The instructor smirked, clearly enjoying the challenge. "You've got potential, but you're not there yet."

Lucas's eyes sharpened. He knew he had to stop playing defensively if he wanted to end this quickly. Visualizing his next move, he charged forward without hesitation.

Lucas sprinted forward, ducking low as he aimed another sweeping kick toward the instructor's legs. This time, the instructor saw it coming and jumped to avoid the sweep.

Lucas had anticipated this.

In one fluid motion, Lucas launched himself upward, using the momentum to deliver a crushing blow with his right fist aimed at the instructor's mid-air position.

The punch connected with the instructor's abdomen, knocking the wind out of him. The instructor landed hard on the platform, struggling to catch his breath as he staggered back to his feet.

Lucas wiped more sweat from his forehead and grinned. "Not so easy when you're in the air, huh?"

The instructor grimaced, his eyes narrowing as he clutched his abdomen. "You're clever, Cadet. But don't get cocky."

Despite the pain, the instructor's stance remained strong. Lucas knew the fight was far from over. He took a defensive stance, watching the instructor closely, anticipating the next move.

Suddenly, the instructor burst forward with surprising speed, closing the gap between them in an instant. Lucas braced himself, expecting another direct attack, but the instructor feinted to the left, throwing rapid low strikes toward Lucas's legs.

Lucas managed to dodge and block most of the attacks, but one kick landed on his shin.

Pain shot up his leg, and Lucas winced.

The instructor capitalized on the moment, spinning around to deliver a swift backfist aimed at Lucas's temple.

Lucas tilted his head just enough to avoid a direct hit, but the swing grazed his cheek, sending a sharp sting across his face.

Stumbling backward, Lucas steadied himself. His heart raced as he realized just how skilled his opponent was. But Lucas had one thing going for him—his unpredictability.

"You're fast," Lucas admitted, wiping the blood from his cheek. "But I can be faster."

With renewed energy, Lucas darted forward again, faking a punch before twisting his body mid-step to deliver a powerful spinning kick aimed at the instructor's head. The instructor raised his arm to block—

—but Lucas quickly retracted the kick and swept his leg in the opposite direction, knocking the instructor off balance.

The instructor stumbled, and Lucas saw his chance. With a swift motion, he launched himself into the air and drove his knee into the instructor's chest.

The impact sent the instructor sprawling to the ground. Lucas, breathing heavily, stood over him, feeling the strain of the fight coursing through his body.

"Still think I'm not there yet?" Lucas asked with a grin, extending his hand.

The instructor, catching his breath, looked up at Lucas with a faint smile. "Maybe you're closer than I thought." He grabbed Lucas's hand and pulled himself up. "But don't think for a second you've beaten me just yet."

The instructor's hand gripped Lucas's tightly as he pulled himself up, his expression shifting from one of exhaustion to renewed determination. He straightened his posture, brushing the dirt from his uniform, though his eyes never left Lucas. The rıghtful source is 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡✶𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚✶𝙣𝙚𝙩

"I admit," the instructor said, rolling his shoulder to loosen the muscles, "you've got talent. But talent alone won't win every fight."

Lucas nodded, still catching his breath. He knew better than to let his guard down just because the instructor was talking. Every word exchanged was a test of his focus. "What else, then?" he asked, wiping more sweat from his brow. "Strategy?"

The instructor smirked. "Endurance."

Without warning, the instructor lunged again, this time feinting a jab before spinning into a low sweep. Lucas, having learned from the previous exchange, jumped to avoid it. But as soon as his feet left the ground, the instructor twisted his body upward, delivering a rising punch aimed at Lucas's midsection.

The punch connected, sending Lucas hurtling backward through the air. He landed with a heavy thud, his back slamming against the hard surface of the platform. His lungs seized up for a moment, and he gasped for air, his vision blurring from the impact.

"Endurance means knowing how to take a hit and keep going," the instructor said, standing over Lucas, his voice calm but firm.

Lucas grit his teeth, forcing himself to roll onto his knees. His whole body screamed in protest, but he wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot.

"Come on, Cadet," the instructor continued, stepping back to give Lucas room to rise. "Show me what else you've got."

Lucas slowly pushed himself to his feet, his legs shaking under the strain. He spat a bit of blood from the side of his mouth, wiping the corner of his lip. "Still standing," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

The instructor nodded. "Good. But standing isn't enough."

With that, the instructor rushed forward again, launching a barrage of rapid punches and kicks. Lucas ducked, blocked, and dodged as best as he could, his reflexes sharper but his stamina waning. He needed to find an opening.

As the instructor's fist swung toward him again, Lucas ducked low, avoiding the blow. In one quick motion, he grabbed the instructor's arm, twisting it behind his back with a grunt of effort. The instructor, caught off guard for just a second, spun around to break the hold, but Lucas was ready.

With a swift move, Lucas slammed his elbow down into the instructor's back.

The instructor staggered forward, but he didn't go down. Instead, he turned with surprising agility, swinging a fierce roundhouse kick aimed at Lucas's torso.

The kick connected, and Lucas was sent tumbling backward once more. He skidded across the platform, his body aching from the relentless assault. But still, he forced himself up, his eyes burning with determination.

"Endurance isn't just about taking hits," Lucas said, his voice hoarse but steady. "It's about learning from them."

The instructor raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Is that so?"

Lucas steadied himself, shaking off the pain. "Yeah," he said with a smirk, his gaze locked on his opponent. "And I've learned plenty."

This time, it was Lucas who lunged first. He closed the distance in a blink, feinting a punch to the instructor's face before twisting low to deliver a powerful kick to the side.

The instructor blocked it, but the force of the strike made him stagger slightly. Lucas didn't let up—he followed with a flurry of punches, each aimed with precision at the instructor's defenses.

The two clashed in a flurry of movement, fists and legs flying in a blur of speed. But this time, Lucas was controlling the tempo, pushing the instructor back, step by step.

Finally, Lucas saw his opening. The instructor, focused on blocking a high strike, left his lower body exposed. In one swift motion, Lucas ducked low and swept his leg out, catching the instructor off guard.

The instructor's legs gave out from under him, and he hit the ground hard.

Lucas, breathing heavily, took a step back, watching as the instructor lay on the ground, panting. "Endurance means knowing when to strike too," Lucas said, a grin spreading across his face. "Not just when to take a hit."

The instructor chuckled through his heavy breaths, slowly sitting up. "Maybe you're right," he said, nodding in approval. "Looks like I underestimated you, Cadet."

Lucas extended his hand again, helping the instructor to his feet.

"But," the instructor added, clapping a hand on Lucas's shoulder, "don't think that means you're ready just yet."

Lucas smirked, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Guess that means we'll have to go again sometime."

...And Just like that Lucas's special trening program ended.