In comparison, though my stomach is destroyed, if it’s only pain then it will not limit my movements. Speaking solely in terms of damage, I have taken more but, the one who stands at the end is the winner, and until I announce myself as the winner I will not give up.
Stretching my consciousness to the limit, that moment seems to stretch on for eternity. Slowly….. in the world I see, I see… Prime, the style that puts its absolute trust in its fist, as I thought the last attack is a right punch!
I assume to running water stance in order to intercept it.
His right fist draws an arc –
Then, it did not even graze me.
「(Bakana! (Impossible!) A feint, rotation?!)」
My arms were raised in a guard to intercept. Yet, Chester’s right arm passed only before my guard.
There’s no way this man would’ve measured the distance wrongly …. this must be a feint!?
「(If you kick or turn kick – no way)」
If it’s not the right fist, then what is it!
Surprised, my mind blanks out for a moment.
(I’m not sure what middle part means あてを外された私は、駆け引きに負けたことで一瞬の空白を意識に浮かべてしまう。)
….By the time I noticed, it was too late. Likened to a blade of a swordsman, Primo style’s left fist.
In such a scenario, there’s no way he would use that…
「(The broken left fist ….)」
…….Damn, such a shame.
In that slowed down time, the moment before my consciousness turned white, I felt his left fist touching my chin. The broken left fist. A backhand blow, hammers my chin.