Payback Time 6: Final Part

Gregory's knife gleamed as he approached, his grip tight, eyes narrowing into slits. He let out a slow, menacing chuckle as he raised the blade to his lips, licking it one last time before circling Ebilade. There was a manic edge in his gaze, a twisted glee as he savored the prospect of what was to come. But Ebilade's face remained unreadable, calm, an unsettling contrast to the intensity in Gregory's eyes.

From a few feet away, Owen watched with growing intrigue, one brow lifting as he exhaled a thin line of smoke. The boys sprawled on the ground—some groaning, others lying silent—were testament to the damage Ebilade had already inflicted. Yet here he stood, as if untouched by fatigue, his dark clothes pristine despite the violence. Interesting, Owen murmured, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he observed the encounter unfold.

Gregory lunged without warning, slashing the knife in a low, sweeping arc aimed at Ebilade's midsection. The blade sliced through the air, but Ebilade didn't flinch. Instead, his form seemed to flicker, a subtle, almost imperceptible shift as he stepped back just enough for the knife to pass inches from his torso. Gregory, expecting resistance, stumbled forward slightly, his expression flickering with a flash of confusion.

Then he charged again, his knife whistling in a series of quick jabs aimed at Ebilade's chest, neck, and face. This time, Ebilade allowed Gregory to get closer, baiting him, almost daring him to strike. As the knife came close to grazing his skin, Ebilade's Voidwalker ability triggered, rendering him briefly intangible. The blade passed through him harmlessly, leaving Gregory's face twisted in disbelief.

"What the—" Gregory hissed, his eyes widening as he struggled to comprehend what just happened. He took a quick step back, his breath coming faster, sweat beading on his brow as he tried to figure out how Ebilade had seemingly evaded the knife without moving.

Ebilade simply cocked his head, a cold smile spreading across his face. "You didn't really think that was going to work, did you?"

Furious, Gregory slashed again, his face contorting with rage as he put all his strength into each swing. But Ebilade was a step ahead, dodging each swipe with a precision that bordered on eerie. His movements were fluid, almost graceful, his eyes never leaving Gregory's as he avoided the blade with an air of detached amusement.

Owen's gaze sharpened as he caught the brief flickers of Ebilade's Voidwalker ability in action. So that's how it is… His smirk deepened as he took another slow drag, watching Ebilade with newfound respect. There's more to you than meets the eye.

With a sudden burst of speed, Ebilade retaliated. His fist shot forward, catching Gregory square in the jaw. The impact was brutal, a loud crack echoing as Gregory's head snapped to the side, and a spray of blood splattered from his mouth. He staggered, his hand instinctively rising to his face, but it was too late. Ebilade's punch had knocked several of his teeth loose, and he spat them onto the ground with a snarl of fury.

"Getting sloppy, Gregory," Ebilade taunted, his voice cold and mocking. He watched with satisfaction as Gregory wiped the blood from his mouth, his face a mask of pain and anger.

Gregory straightened, his expression twisted with a mixture of hatred and grudging respect. "You've gotten better," he admitted, his voice laced with venom. "A lot better."

Ebilade chuckled, a dark, humorless sound that sent a chill through Gregory's spine. "Better? I'm a lot more than that." His gaze hardened, and his voice dropped, his tone dripping with contempt. "Stronger, faster, smarter. I'm everything you used to know—only better."

With a roar of frustration, Gregory lunged again, his fists flying in a furious barrage, each swing fueled by his desperate need to regain control. Ebilade met him blow for blow, his movements smooth and calculated, his expression a mask of deadly focus. The sounds of fists meeting flesh and the sharp crack of bones echoed as they clashed, each impact intensifying the tension between them.

Gregory's punches became wilder, sloppier as his energy began to wane, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. He swung wildly, his movements betraying his fatigue, but Ebilade remained unrelenting. He sidestepped each punch with ease, his own strikes precise, calculated, each one delivered with devastating force.

At one point, Gregory managed to land a glancing blow on Ebilade's shoulder, but the effect was negligible, Ebilade barely registering the hit. The Voidwalker ability absorbed most of the impact, and Gregory's brief flicker of triumph was swiftly extinguished as Ebilade retaliated with a brutal uppercut that sent him reeling backward. Gregory's head snapped back, and he stumbled, struggling to keep his balance, his vision blurring as he fought to stay on his feet.

"Is that all you've got?" Ebilade sneered, his voice dripping with contempt as he watched Gregory sway, his body battered and broken.

Gregory's lips pulled back in a snarl, his pride refusing to let him back down. "I'm not…done yet," he spat, his words slurred as he wiped the blood from his mouth. He tried to straighten, but his body betrayed him, his limbs trembling as he struggled to stay upright.

Ebilade's expression softened for a brief moment, almost pitying. "Maybe you should be."

And with that, he delivered the final blow—a swift, brutal punch to Gregory's gut that left him doubled over, gasping for air. Gregory's knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, his body crumpling in defeat as he clutched his stomach, his breaths shallow and ragged.

Ebilade looked down at him, his expression cold and unyielding, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He didn't spare a glance at the others lying broken on the ground, his gaze fixed solely on Gregory, watching as the last shreds of defiance faded from his eyes.