Bully Lord

Part-15

However, despite the initial success, James' lack of experience quickly became apparent.  Ryan, a seasoned competitor, recovered quickly from James' initial flurry. He used his superior strength and judo expertise to his advantage, expertly maneuvering James off balance.

A well-placed sweep sent James sprawling to the ground, the wind knocked out of his lungs. A groan escaped his lips as Ryan loomed over him, a triumphant smirk plastered on his face.

"Looks like the pipsqueak doesn't have what it takes after all," Ryan taunted, his voice dripping with condescension.

James gritted his teeth, the sting of defeat mingling with the dull ache in his back.  He knew he couldn't give up. The mission loomed large, a constant reminder pushing him to his feet.  He needed to use the "Thunderclap Slap" – it was his only chance.

The air stung with the metallic tang of sweat and tension. James scrambled to his feet, his vision momentarily blurred from the impact. Ryan, emboldened by his dominance, circled him like a predator stalking its prey.

"Give it up, pipsqueak," Ryan sneered, his voice laced with a cruel amusement.  "You're outmatched."

James ignored him, focusing on the burning ache in his side and the throbbing in his head. He knew Ryan was right. He was losing. This wasn't a sparring session, and James lacked the experience to counter Ryan's aggression and well-honed technique. The taunts of the crowd, initially a source of unexpected energy, now seemed distant and mocking.

But amidst the pain and humiliation, a flicker of defiance sparked in James' eyes. He couldn't let Ryan win. He wouldn't let himself be bullied anymore.  More importantly, the chilling reminder of the "Struck by Thunder" penalty flashed in his mind.

With a renewed surge of determination, James took a deep breath and adopted a more defensive stance. He remembered his karate training, the hours spent perfecting blocks and counters under the watchful eye of his sensei. He wouldn't give Ryan an easy shot.

The fight continued, a brutal dance of kicks and punches.  James, fueled by desperation and the system's invisible leash, fought with a ferocity that surprised even himself. He blocked a barrage of blows, narrowly dodging a kick aimed at his head.  However, exhaustion gnawed at him, his movements becoming slower and more sluggish.

James' vision swam, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Every muscle screamed in protest, his body a canvas of pain. A triumphant smirk spread across Ryan's face as he prepared to deliver a finishing blow. 

Just as Ryan's fist arced through the air, a crucial mistake.  He let his guard down for a split second, a sliver of arrogance clouding his judgment.  James, fueled by a primal instinct for survival and the ever-present threat of the "Struck by Thunder" penalty, saw his chance.

With a surge of adrenaline that defied his exhaustion, James launched himself forward.  Ignoring the proper karate form drilled into him for years, he focused on one thing – delivering the slap.  He closed the distance between him and Ryan in a blink, his arm extended, palm open. 

The crowd held its breath, a collective gasp escaping their lips as James connected with a resounding smack. It wasn't a precise, controlled strike, but it landed squarely on Ryan's cheek.