Page 52 of Celestial Combat

I had seen Zane fight before. I had seen him ruthless. I had seen him win.

But this?

This was different.

This was…Personal.

The crowbar was still warm from my grip when I bent down and picked it up again, my fingers tightening around the cold steel. I stood slowly, the weight of it settling in my palm like it belonged there. The streetlamp at the alley’s end flickered, casting a sickly yellow glow over the scene – enough to illuminate Hiroshi’s bloody face as Zane yanked him off the wall.

Zane’s hand fisted into the man’s jacket, keeping him upright for just a moment longer. Then, without a word, he shoved him toward me.

Hiroshi stumbled, barely able to keep his balance.

I didn’t hesitate.

I swung the crowbar,hard.

The metal cracked against his cheekbone with a sickening thud. He crumpled to his knees, blood immediately pooling from the deep gash that split across his face. His body twitched, his fingers weakly clawing at the ground as if trying to push himself up.

I hit him again.

This time, across his back.

Then again.

And again.

And. Again.

Each hit sent another violent thud echoing off the alley walls. I lost count. The only thing I could hear was the sharp, ragged rhythm of my own breathing, the blood pounding in my ears, the dull metallic clang of the crowbar as it finally slipped from my fingers and hit the pavement.

Hiroshi groaned, barely conscious. His body twitched with pain, his limbs useless.

Not enough.

I wasn’t finished.

I reached down, grabbed his wrist, and twisted his arm outward. His breathing was uneven, a wet rattle in his throat, but he was too weak to fight back. His head lolled against the ground as I positioned my foot against his elbow, my heel digging into his joint.

Then I stepped down.

Snap.

A tortured howl of pain tore from his throat.

I did it again.

Both arms – gone.

His legs next.

I felt the bones shatter beneath me, breaking apart piece by piece. He wouldn’t walk away from this. Wouldn’t crawl away from this.

By the time I rolled him onto his back, he wasn’t fighting anymore. His chest barely rose and fell, blood pooling in the hollow of his throat. His face was swollen, barely recognizable beneath the bruises.The same way he’d left me four years ago.

But I could still see it.

The face that haunted me for years.