Chapter 1540 – Endless Punching Bag

The wave represented many different things, to many different people. To some, it was a time of opportunity, when the wealth of the Dungeon overflowed in the form of endless monsters to be harvested for cores and other components. To others, it was a time of fear and despair. Huddling in their homes, behind walls and praying that others would be able to hold back the tide and keep them safe.

To a privileged few, a wave was much the same as any other time. Above the danger, protected behind layer after layer of sturdy defense, these people had little notice or care for the Dungeon.

For Tiny, the wave was a wonderful and precious time. A time of gladness, of joy, of smiles and laughter. A season of fists.

“Roaaaaaaar!” he bellowed, unleashing his fierce battle cry once more as another wave of monsters approached.

Eyes filled with madness and rage, the monsters of the fifth rushed towards the platform, bursting out of the sludge river to launch themselves directly at him. Tiny’s eyes narrowed…

A storm of fists exploded outward, a dazzling display of light and force that struck the air with the force of a thunderclap. Some monsters were pulverised in an instant, others were pushed back, but only momentarily. Soon, they rallied, and came again with renewed fury.

That was fine, Tiny had more punches to go around.

He raised his hands, tightened his posture, sucked in his gut and relaxed his shoulders.

To achieve the perfect punching form, there were many requirements, and Tiny was willing to meet them all.

Close the fist, but don’t clench it.

Keep the muscles loose, lest he sacrifice speed.

Rotate the body, putting his weight behind each strike, lest he sacrifice power.

Stay light on his feet, rotating smoothly through the joints.

Explode the hands forward, then bring them back twice as fast.

When everything went perfectly, Tiny could feel it in every muscle fibre, a single chord of perfect music, a flawless artwork that touched the soul. He could see it in his mind. His fist, snapping out so fast he couldn’t even see it, only feel. At full extension, there was a strain in the shoulder as the force exploded outward and he pulled at the same moment, drawing the hand back. As it returned, his shoulders rotated, his hips, his knees and ankles. The force transferred to the other side of his body, then… BAM! The other hand flew out to snap, then explode, then return, ready to load the other hand.

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In Tiny’s mind, this was poetry. This was art. He danced on his feet as his fists flashed out again and again and again. When the fists of light had pummeled everything before him into oblivion and no monsters remained, the burning red light in his eyes faded and he wobbled on his feet.

In an instant, the ants were there. A chair slid into place just as the giant ape fell backwards, catching him at the perfect moment. Healers appeared as if from nowhere, climbing over his arms, healing and massaging the muscles, driving away the fatigue and trying to restore some energy.