Creed moved.
No, he vanished. The air cracked behind him like a whip as he exploded forward, covering the one-meter gap between himself and the old man in less than a second.
His boots didn't so much touch the ground as skim over it, and the very space around him seemed to twist with his sheer momentum.
Creed's body was a streak of motion, his eyes locked on the gleaming blue-and-gold gloves like a predator eyeing prey.
Every muscle in his body was drawn tight like a coiled spring.
The old man's eyebrows lifted, clearly impressed, as he followed Creed's trajectory with eyes that were, frustratingly, still calm.
Calm! The kind of calm that whispered, "Oh? So you've chosen to entertain me today?"
But Creed had expected that. The moment he saw those pupils lazily track his motion, he smirked mid-dash. That's when he unleashed the real strike.
Boom!
His body blurred again—almost twice as fast this time, as he pushed his Stage 4 physique to its absolute peak.
