Gangster Hybrid

Lyriana and Aldric sprang away from each other, landing gracefully on opposite ends of the battlefield. The three of them formed a tense triangle, eyes locked and muscles coiled like springs ready to snap.

Draven's grin widened, sharp and dangerous.

"Alright then… let's play."

In a flash, they vanished, reappearing in the center of the clearing. Draven didn't waste a second—his left fist whipped forward like a thunderclap aimed at Aldric's face. Aldric raised both arms, blocking just in time, but the impact echoed like a hammer on stone. Cracks spiderwebbed across his forearms, and his feet skidded back.

Grimacing, Aldric countered instantly, sweeping his right leg in a high, sharp arc toward Draven's ribs.

Draven pulled back his left arm just enough to intercept the kick. The force barely slowed him.

From Aldric's right, Lyriana lunged—her body fluid and precise—her left leg slicing through the air to strike Aldric's side. He raised his arms, bracing, but the blow still sent him tumbling backward.

Before he could recover, Lyriana twisted midair with the grace of a dancer, swinging her right leg down toward Draven. Reacting in a heartbeat, Draven caught her leg with his right hand.

She looked down at him,

"Gotcha."

But Draven's smirk only deepened. With brutal strength, he yanked her toward him and slammed his clenched left fist into her stomach. The impact shattered ribs and crushed organs; blood exploded from her lips as her body folded around the strike.

She was sent flying backward, crashing hard into the ground.

Draven barely had time to recover before Aldric materialized before him, his fist cocked and aimed. The punch connected with a sickening crack against Draven's jaw, snapping his head back.

But Draven was lightning fast—grabbing Aldric's wrist with his left hand, his grip like iron.

"Hmm," Aldric growled, surprised.

Draven tightened his hold, yanking Aldric forward. His right fist clenched, ready to strike—but Aldric raised his left arm to block at the last second.

Draven wasn't done.

He unclenched his fist, snaring Aldric's other hand, pulling both arms forward. Aldric's eyes widened.

"Crap—"

Too late.

Draven's knee shot up, smashing into Aldric's face with a crunch. Blood sprayed, the sound echoing like a gunshot.

At that moment, Lyriana reappeared above them, spinning into a downward kick aimed straight for Draven's head.

Still holding Aldric's arms, Draven shoved him backward—Aldric barely dodging Lyriana's devastating strike. Her leg slammed into the ground with such force that deep cracks spiderwebbed through the stone beneath.

Draven flipped backward, landing softly on his feet.

Lyriana recovered instantly, and Aldric—now fully healed and wiping blood from his face—rose beside her.

Without a word, Aldric raised his hand, blocking Lyriana's next kick mid-swing. Their eyes locked for a brief, breathless moment, and then they launched into a relentless flurry of blows—fists and feet moving in a rapid, rhythmic dance of combat.

Draven landed away from them, still smiling, watching their fight with sharp eyes.

And then—he vanished again.