"Fuuuuu...!"
Hugo stood directly in the path of Fango’s onslaught, yet he made no move to evade or counter.
He simply exhaled, appearing as though he intended to take the full force of the attack head-on with stoic dignity. Even the composed Dorowa gasped, her eyes widening in shock as Fango’s magma-clad fist slammed into him.
"Is he a fool!? Why didn't he defend himself!?"
To any observer, Hugo’s actions looked like a death wish—deliberately inviting a blow that could clearly shatter bone. Dorowa’s voice cracked with disbelief.
However, Fee, standing right beside her, didn't seem the least bit worried. He watched the clash with a serene expression, answering her question as if stating a simple fact.
"Because there was no need. You see, my brother has—"
Before Fee could finish his sentence, Fango—the one who should have landed the deciding blow—was suddenly sent flying backward.
Dorowa watched the sudden reversal in a stunned daze. Before her stood Hugo, his Blaster already shifting into a new configuration.
"...Sorry about that. It turns out I can pull off something similar myself."
"Is that the Blaster’s shape-shifting capability...!? I’d read the reports, but to think it was this powerful...!"
Hugo was wreathed in roaring violet flames, his purple plating having grown noticeably thicker. Dorowa took a sharp, jagged breath, feeling the overwhelming pressure of the Magic Power radiating from him. This was the Purple Flame Armor—a form that far surpassed the sheer heat of Fango’s magma.
Fango’s previous strike had been utterly neutralized by that reinforced, flame-resistant plating.
Then Dorowa realized the truth behind Hugo's gamble: by daring to take the magma-infused hit, he had absorbed the thermal energy and converted it into fuel for his own armor. Fango, who had taken a heavy blow in the exchange, struggled to his feet, coughing violently.
"Gho! Gaha! Phew...! To think... you’d turn my own full power against me. But... it’s not over yet!"
Perhaps it was a simple refusal to lose, or perhaps it was a warrior's pride in his own strength. Even after seeing his best attack redirected with interest, Fango refused to concede the match.
As Fango charged once more, his fists once again glowing with molten heat, Hugo took a low, quiet stance. He exhaled slowly, focusing his inner energy.
"Ha! Haaaaaaaa...!"
His movements were precise, reminiscent of traditional karate, as he slowly drew his clenched fist back toward his chest.
The embedded Flame Attribute Magic Ore pulsed with a brilliant purple light. In response, his chest plates flared with intense heat, channeling the fire directly into his waiting fist. Finally, Hugo looked up, his eyes locking onto the charging Fango as he drove his right fist forward.
"Burning Blaster Punch!!"
"Ugh! Guooooooo!!"
Hugo parried Fango’s incoming strike with his left hand and buried his flaming right fist deep into the man’s chest.
Hit by the full force of the super-charged strike, Fango was skidded backward across the training ground. The concentrated fire within the punch detonated on impact, shattering Fango's magma armor into a thousand dissipating fragments.
"Go-hah...! Not... yet... I’m still...!"
Fango collapsed to his knees, his body trembling as he tried and failed to stand. It was clear to everyone watching that the duel was over.
Despite Fango's desperate attempts to keep fighting, Hugo approached him with quiet, measured steps. Dorowa watched tensely, wondering if Hugo intended to deliver a final, crushing blow to the stubborn loser. Instead, Hugo deactivated his transformation and reached out a hand.
"...What is this? Pity for the loser?"
"Nothing like that. I just thought it’d be a waste."
"A waste? What are you talking about?"
"You’re incredibly strong, but you try too hard to be alone. All you know how to do is throw a punch. I just thought that was a waste of talent," Hugo said with a small, knowing smile.
Fango stared up at him, his gaze intense as he processed the words. Hugo continued, his voice steady and sincere.
"You’re strong, Fango. But there’s a limit to how far you can go on your own. There’s a limit to strength that’s only used to hurt or intimidate. Try supporting someone—allow yourself to be supported, too—and use that strength for something kind. If you can do that, you’ll become even stronger than you are now."
"Ha...! After all that, you’re telling me to play nice? You really think that makes someone stronger?"
"The man standing in front of you right now is someone who has lived exactly like that. You fought me yourself, so I’ll ask you: was I weak?"
"........."
Hugo’s smile widened at Fango’s silence—a silent admission from a man who was, in his own way, quite honest.
Still holding his hand out, Hugo added one last thing.
"Sometimes a fist, and sometimes a flower, right? Well, it might be a bit much to ask you to start handing out flowers right away, so why don't you just start by unclinching that fist?"
"...Hmph. I don't like it. But you’re the winner, and I’m not a man who goes back on his word."
Though he didn't seem entirely convinced by the philosophy, Fango was a man who lived by the rule that the strong were absolute. Following that creed, he relaxed his hand and grasped Hugo’s palm.
As Hugo pulled him to his feet, Fango looked him straight in the eye and spoke with quiet resolve.
"Hugo Clay... I lost. As promised, I’ll follow your lead."