Systemism

Myul and his crew (6)

[Jun Hao] vs [Chyul]

Jun Hao: 185 cm, 86 kg

[SSR+ / SSR+ / A+ (Awakened) / A / SSR+]

Chyul: 180 cm, 72 kg

[??? / ??? / A+ / ??? / ???]

<You used Restriction Play>

Dark, ethereal chains began to materialize from the ground beneath Jun Hao's feet, coiling like serpents around his ankles. The black, ghostly tendrils were visible only to Chyul, writhing with sinister energy as they sought to bind Jun Hao's powerful legs. The chains tightened, their purpose clear—to immobilize Jun Hao just long enough for Chyul to make his move.

The air grew heavy, the oppressive energy of the chains almost palpable as they constricted further. Chyul watched with bated breath, hoping beyond hope that this would be enough to level the playing field. He could feel his heart racing, sweat dripping down his brow as the chains closed in.

For a moment, it looked like the plan might work. The chains gripped tighter, attempting to pull Jun Hao to the ground, to weaken the foundation of his strength. But then, just as quickly as they had appeared, the chains began to vibrate violently, as if struggling against an unseen force.

Jun Hao glanced down, his face an unreadable mask of calm, though his eyes flashed with annoyance. He simply stood there, unmoved, his body radiating power that seemed to push against the very essence of the Restriction Play. The black chains, once so menacing, began to tremble under the pressure.

<The card has failed as the opponent's stats are too high!>

With an audible crack, the chains shattered like glass, fragments of the dark energy crumbling and retreating into the floor beneath Jun Hao. The ground itself seemed to recoil from his presence as if even the earth recognized his overwhelming superiority. The failure of the card hung heavy in the air, the last remnants of Myul's desperate attempt disintegrating into nothingness.

Chyul's eyes widened in disbelief, his last resort crumbling before him. The weight of defeat pressed down on him like a suffocating blanket, the realization dawning that there was no stopping Jun Hao now. The restriction that should have bound him had instead only proven how far beyond Chyul's reach he truly was.

Jun Hao didn't say a word, his cold gaze fixed on Chyul, but the silent message was clear: no trick, no play could hold him back.

Jun Hao: "What are you doing?"

Jun Hao hopped around, preparing for another strike.

Chyul: "Nothing."

The fight between Jun Hao and Chyul had reached a fever pitch. Each clash of their fists echoed through the desolate streets, a brutal symphony of bone and muscle colliding with unrelenting force. The air felt thick with tension, the sheer intensity of their blows distorting the very atmosphere around them. Blood had already begun to drip from their split lips and battered faces, but neither combatant showed any signs of slowing down.

Chyul charged again, his Lethwei techniques swift, precise, and vicious. Every knee drove forward with the force of a battering ram, every elbow strike seemed aimed to shatter bones. His eyes burned with a predatory gleam, and his movements had the finesse of a seasoned killer. But Jun Hao danced around him like smoke, his footwork impossibly fluid, never quite in the same place for more than a split second. He dipped and weaved just out of Chyul's reach, each attack narrowly missing him by inches.