Fists Vs. Guns

The elite soldier from the third epic surpassed my expectations, but I refused to give up. I spat blood on the ground and got back on my feet. In front of me stood a member of the Cronus bloodline - shorter than me but with a lean build that allowed him to move swiftly.

Since we were in a confined area, using my rifle with its poisonous bullets was not practical. Therefore, I resorted to using my family heirloom weapons. As I tightly gripped them, Tag assumed a defensive stance, lowering his elbows to his waist and shielding his head and body with his arms.

With a fighting stance, Tag quickly approached me, evading the bullets from my gun by ducking left and right. When he got close, he threw a straight punch from his right. I used the inside of my elbow to apply pressure on the right side of his fist, halting the punch. Then, I met the other incoming punch with my elbow, directing his arm and the blow down.

I aimed my gun at his head, but he quickly placed his other hand on it and inserted his finger between the trigger and the barrel, preventing me from firing. As he was too strong for me to move, I used my other hand to hand him my other gun to fire. Tag grabbed my arm, pulled me towards him, and delivered a hard headbutt, leaving me dazed. He then took my guns from me.

He yanked the guns from my grip with a quick tug to the right and left, before taking a step back and flinging them to the ground. I braced myself for the worst, half-expecting him to turn the guns on me.

But Tag had other plans. "Guns don't make the moment of death fun," he said, a sly grin creeping onto his face. "But fists, you can see the fear in them, you can feel the power."

I knew I couldn't grab the guns from where I stood without putting up a fight. I readied myself for close combat, fists raised. It was going to be an eye-for-eye, tooth-for-tooth brawl, and although it was an uneven match, we met in the middle of the carriage.

Tag started throwing punches, one after the other, not giving me a moment to catch my breath. I tried to block his blows, but he kept breaking through my defenses, causing me to stagger backwards.

In a wild swing, he missed his mark and slammed his fist into the iron door behind me, sending a deafening clang through the air. Taking advantage of his misstep, I lunged forward and landed a punch square on his head, but it seemed to have no effect. I followed up with one or two more punches, but they only seemed to enrage him further.

He flung me into the middle of the carriage after my punches, causing my ribs to ache from the impact. But I spotted my guns on the floor just beyond where he had tossed me. I scrambled to reach them, hoping to turn the tables, but before I could, Tag grabbed my legs and pulled me back to him. He hoisted me up by the back and hurled me onto the roof of the wagon, then down onto the ground.

As I lay there, battered and bruised, Tag sauntered over to me. "That's the bad thing about being ordinary," he drawled. "No matter how hard you try, awareness always beats mediocrity."

I bristled at his words, retorting, "Speak for yourself, freak."

But Tag wasn't satisfied with my answer. He yanked me up by my shoulders, wrapping his arms around my neck in a choking grip. He was strangling me and lifting me off the ground at the same time. If I didn't do something soon, he'd kill me for sure. Only mediocrity could save an ordinary person like me.

With that in mind, I drew the knife from my waistband and plunged it into Tag's arm. He cried out in pain and released his hold on me. Seizing the opportunity, I delivered a hard uppercut that sent him staggering backwards. As he stumbled, I snatched up my guns from the ground. Now it was my turn to fight back.

The seconds felt like hours as we fought, my body aching from the blows he landed. I couldn't afford to tire out or let him get the upper hand. Lena and the prisoner's safety depended on me buying them time.

Gunshots echoed from other parts of the wagon, reminding me of the urgency of the situation. But for now, my focus was solely on the man in front of me. His defensive posture made it difficult to land a decisive blow, and I knew I had to get creative.

I observed him closely, noticing how he carefully controlled his power to conserve energy. I needed to find a way to damage him where he couldn't heal himself, and I had just the plan.

Reloading my guns with a single hand, I fired relentlessly at Tag until my gun overheated. He approached me again, confident that I was out of ammunition. But I had one more trick up my sleeve.

Running towards him, I veered off to the side at the last moment, throwing a punch at his kidney. He grunted in pain, his defensive stance momentarily faltering. I took advantage of the opening and landed a hard blow to his solar plexus, leaving him gasping for air.

It wasn't over yet. I knew he would recover quickly if I gave him the chance, so I pressed my advantage. Lunging forward, I aimed a kick at his knee, hoping to disable him. But he was ready for me, dodging my attack and countering with a punch to my jaw.

Staggering backwards, I shook my head to clear the stars from my vision. This fight wasn't over, but I was determined to come out on top.

I had to act fast to turn the tables on Tag. With my foot forward, I leaned and slid through his defenses, putting a bullet in his foot. I had aimed for his head, but his training had taught him to protect his vital areas in close combat. As he bent over on one knee, I hit his solid standing leg hard with the back of my arm.

Tag was stunned and involuntarily dropped to his knees. Taking advantage of his momentary weakness, I jumped on his back, attempting to choke him. But he quickly got up, hitting me against walls and glass to break my hold. When my grip loosened, he threw me off.

As Tag turned to hit me, I pointed my gun at him, but he blocked the bullet with the palm of his hand. He then retaliated with heavy punches, and I dodged them as best I could. One of his punches even smashed through the iron wagon wall.

When his fist got stuck, I took the opportunity to strike him with a headbutt and a punch. But he caught my fist in mid-air and flipped me over. I managed to get rid of him with a kick.

Tag pulled his arm out of the carriage wall and tried to pin me where I was so I couldn't escape.

As much as I didn't want to, my only option to escape was to use the stairs. I ran towards the stairs, hoping to drag him after me. I climbed up with Tag right behind me.

I knew it was dangerous for Lena and the others, but I was almost out of options. Besides, it was more advantageous for me to fight someone like that in an open field.