And BAAAM!
Maximus's fist landed squarely on the boy's bruised face a brutal, merciless hit. The black-haired boy's eyes, which were moments away from closing forever, snapped open in shock. Not from pain… but betrayal.
Didn't I just save this lunatic?
Why the hell is he punching me now?
He didn't get it. He thought this gigolo-looking guy would cry for him, maybe even drop to his knees in guilt, whispering poetic apologies, maybe build a shrine with his photo. But instead? Instead, he was getting his face remodeled like a practice dummy in a boxing ring.
If he had the strength, he'd scream, "Is this what your parents raised you to be, Max?! A psychopathic savior?" But no. He didn't even have the energy to spit.
Evelyne and Lysira stood frozen nearby. Evelyne's mouth hung open, eyes wide with horror.
"What the hell is happening? Is that boy Max's enemy?" she whispered. "But even if he is... he's already half-dead!"
[Ding!!]
[Confusion and Shock Emotions Detected]
[Ding!!]
[Congratulations Host! You've received:
+2 Silver Chests
+12 MP
+23 MP
+46 MP]
Max ignored the system's enthusiastic chimes. This wasn't the time to gloat. This was sacred. This was personal. This… was the first time he tried a magic-infused skill. A holy mission to save a friend. Hopefully.
One punch.
Two punches.
Seven.
Blood splattered. The boy's face was swelling. But with each punch, Max's heartbeat grew louder in his ears.
Was it working? Was this "One Punch Hug" skill real? Or was he just committing a war crime with extra steps?
Even Lysira flinched. "This is... a bit much."
But she didn't stop him. After all, the boy had used dark magic. Helping someone like that was forbidden. And also, kind of gross.
Still, she noted to herself: Gotta teach Max not to be a caveman once we reach the academy. This is not civilized behavior.
Evelyne? She was dumbstruck.
Weren't these two friends? Didn't Max kill a three-star mage to save this guy? Was I wrong? she thought, feeling like someone dropped her brain into a blender.
Punch after punch.
24
25
The boy's face looked like a purple balloon now. His left eye was swollen shut.
If he ever survived this, he swore to every cursed god he knew he would haunt Max until he begged for forgiveness.
Then the 41st punch.
CRACK!
A blinding golden light erupted from the point of impact, showering the alley in shimmering sparkles. Max covered his eyes as the voice of the system echoed like divine thunder.
DING!!
[One Punch Hug – Activation #41 Successful]
[Ultimate Luck: Grade 9th – Holy Grail of Doom Essence]
[Critical Surge Detected]
[Effect Triggered: Full Resurrection + Emotional Confusion + Spark of Bromance]
[System Alert: This… wasn't supposed to happen.]
[Analyzing friendship status… Outcome: "It's Complicated."]
[Side Note: You may want to apologize. Or not. Who knows anymore.]
Max's heart skipped.
IT WORKED?! IT ACTUALLY WORKED?!
He screamed internally, grinning like a maniac. His knuckles were raw, his arms trembling. But he didn't care.
This. Is. Magic.
Even Evelyne, Lysira, and the others those who had just managed to lift their heads were struck by the brilliance of the light erupting from where Max and the black-haired boy stood.
A golden light blazed from the alleyway like the heavens themselves had opened.
"What... what is that?"
"Wait is that... a magic circle?!"
"No way… That color… That structure… I've never seen anything like it!"
What began as a flicker turned into a full-blown spectacle. One glowing circle became two, then more infinitely more. Intricate lines danced across the air, forming a massive circular matrix in the sky. Not just one magic circle… but layers. Layers upon layers of nested runes and extinct symbols, swirling in divine harmony.
It was not a spell. It was an orchestra of impossibility.
The air shifted. Magic itself trembled.
Then BOOM!
A golden beam burst upward, blinding in its brilliance. It shot into the sky, so fast and so wide that within a breath, it pierced the clouds and beyond. No one could see its end. It was like a god had fired a holy lance from sky to Earth.
Gasps filled the air.
Evelyne's knees buckled. She dropped to the ground, trembling. As a six-star mage, she understood what she was seeing. She could read the runes. She could feel the magnitude. And for the first time in her life, tears streamed down her cheeks not from pain or sorrow, but sheer, unfiltered awe and magnificent, ghe beauty.
"One... two... four... six... eight... n-nine..." she whispered.
Nine circles.
Her lips trembled.
Goosebumps broke across her arms as every fiber of her being tingled. She couldn't look away. The brilliance hurt her eyes, but she didn't dare blink.
This wasn't just powerful. It was divine.
The Magnificent, the majesty of power.
No sensation compared to a mage witnessing a spell so rare, so advanced, so holy that it shattered the ceiling of possibility.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, brought euphoria to a mage like this.
Some would kill to witness such a thing. Others would die.
And yet here she was alive. Blessed.
On the other side, Lysira stood still, her expression unreadable… but her body betrayed her. She was trembling. Not out of fear, but from a storm brewing deep within her soul. Her hair floated unnaturally in the air, eyes flickering changing colors blue, pink, gold, sapphire, green without her control as the spell's magic surged through her senses.
Even the tattooed runes hidden beneath her robes began to glow faintly, flickering like candlelight reacting to her emotional upheaval.
Her lips moved slowly, as if in a trance.
"This is… a ninth-circle spell," she murmured.
"Ninth grade. Holy grade."
Her voice quivered in reverence.
"My eyes… have been blessed."
Evelyne, still dazed, jerked in place like struck by lightning. "WHAT?!"
She spun toward Lysira, eyes wide with disbelief.
"A NINTH-GRADE SPELL?!"
Her voice cracked. She couldn't believe it. She had never seen one no one had. Not in real life. Maybe in ancient texts, whispered in bedtime stories told by power-hungry archmages. But to witness one now?
She had assumed maybe a unique seventh-circle spell. At most, an eighth. But ninth?
That was a realm no one dared dream of.
But Lysira said nothing more. She couldn't afford to miss a single detail of the spell still blooming above. Her eyes were locked. Her heart thundered.
In the center of the golden light explosion, the brilliance lingered for a few moments before slowly beginning to fade. The intricate magic circles that had hovered all around started to vanish one by one.
Max, feeling the warmth dissipate, lowered the hands he'd used to shield his eyes. As his vision cleared, an unbelievable scene unfolded before him.
The black-haired boy, who had been lying motionless with his arms and legs severed, was now regenerating. Even the bruises that had marred his face were vanishing before Max's very eyes. In mere seconds, brand-new limbs began to form, sprouting from where there had once been nothing.
"This… this is really working," Max whispered in awe, his voice trembling with excitement. His heart swelled with joy. This was the first spell he had ever successfully cast and not only had it worked, it had done so in the most spectacular way imaginable. Golden, radiant, and overwhelming in scale, he had never seen anything like it in all his sixteen years.
Compared to this, every other spell he had witnessed felt insignificant mere sparks in the presence of a sun.
A golden healing spell… one that could regrow limbs and purify corruption? He had never even dreamed of something like this.
Max's eyes widened further as the boy's arms and legs reformed flawless and pristine, as if newly created. The boy himself looked almost reborn… beautiful in a way that was difficult to describe.
On the other side, Evelyne and Lysira stared, mouths agape. They had suspected this might be a ninth-grade spell, but witnessing it succeed with such perfection was breathtaking. The boy's body wasn't just healing it was being remade.
Even the deep corruption that had once tainted his mind and soul from using dark magic had vanished. No, it was more than that… it was like the darkness had been replaced with something divine.
The boy now radiated purity, like sunlight made flesh holy and magical in equal measure.
And then, gently, the black-haired boy opened his eyes.
"He's waking up!! Whoa cool!"
Max leaned in, eyes wide with wonder as he stared at the black-haired boy's face. His silver hair gleamed under the fading remnants of golden light, his expression lit with unfiltered excitement.
This… this was a first.
Someone had almost died for him. No correction they both had died for each other.
Wasn't that something?
It had to be a profound moment. Deep. Emotional. The kind of thing people wrote songs about. Max waited, anticipation bubbling in his chest like soda pop as the boy slowly stirred.
What will he say when he realizes I brought him back?
"Thank you"? "You're my savior"? Maybe he'd call him "brother" from now on or hell, even give him the father title. Max imagined the boy latching onto him, begging, "Teach me this magic, please, great one!"
That'd be cool. A little weird, but cool.
...Then darker, crooked thoughts snuck in.
What if he wakes up and screams: 'My heroooo! Marry meee!'
Max visibly gagged at the image, a shiver crawling up his spine.
"Eww…" he muttered, already regretting his own imagination. His instincts flared, suddenly on guard as he side-eyed the boy, narrowing his eyes. You better not be that type, black-hair.
Meanwhile, on the other side of this intense mental monologue, the black-haired boy blinked.
Alive.
He could feel his legs. His arms. He slowly looked down, flexing his fingers, staring as if unsure they were truly his.
Breath. Blink. Move.
All systems go.
He lifted his head and there, right in front of him, far too close for comfort, sat a silver-haired boy with stars in his eyes.
Max grinned, full of pride and charm. "See? Isn't my smile cool too? Just like yours"
BAAAAM!!
A fist, fast and furious, cracked across Max's jaw mid-sentence. The blow sent him tumbling backward, sprawling across the grass with a yelp that echoed into the horizon.
"FUUUUUUUCK YOOOOOUUUUUU!!!" the black-haired boy roared, his voice raw with rage and something deeper. His whole body moved with the momentum of that punch filled with enough emotion to make it count as forty-one punches in one.
And perfect knockout~
BAAAAM Max fell back dowm unconious
---