My Cuckhold System-Chapter 72: Teamwork?

West launched forward with his fist cocked back, straight in Icarus’s direction.

He was about to reach Icarus and plant a punch right into his dignity—

When...

BOOM!

A detonation burst in front of West’s face.

Air compressed violently and the force slapped him mid-charge, sending him flying sideways like he’d been hit by an invisible truck.

He crashed and rolled causing the crowd to scream.

Bront stepped forward with his palms slightly apart and his eyes glowing faintly.

He looked smug even with a busted lip due to Caleb’s body ramming into him earlier.

"Careful," Bront said, like he was giving friendly advice. "You almost landed something."

Icarus snapped his head toward Bront, then grinned.

"Thanks," he said sharply. "We got him now."

West pushed himself up on one knee, shaking his head once.

He glanced at the pillar, then back at Icarus.

"What happened to taking care of it yourself," West muttered. "Of course you can’t trust the word of gangsters."

Bront scoffed. "It’s called teamwork."

West looked at him deadpan.

"It’s called jumping."

Some students laughed, immediately regretted it when Bront glared at the crowd.

Icarus yanked his arm again with more force.

The chains finally moved as the pillar broke apart.

CRRRAACK!

Concrete exploded in chunks causing dust and fragments to rain. Students nearest the pillar screamed and scattered like pigeons.

"WHAT THE—!"

"RUN!"

"MY PHONE—!"

Icarus didn’t care.

He ripped the chains free, then snapped them toward West again.

This time, he aimed low.

West shifted to evade but Bront detonated another pocket of air just off to West’s side, forcing him to step exactly where Icarus wanted.

The chains wrapped around West’s legs tightly and electric jolts surged through the chains.

West’s body seized for a fraction of a second as pain spiked, sharp and sizzling.

He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw creaked.

The smell of scorched fabric hit the air.

Icarus swung his arm and West’s body lifted off the ground.

The crowd screamed again as West was flung across the courtyard—

He slammed into a wall.

BAM!

The impact shook the brickwork.

West fell to the ground with his breath knocked out of him.

He stared at his legs, spotting scorch marks, charred lines across his pants. His red skin was showing through.

"Another new uniform gone..."

He sucked in air and stood anyway.

His eyes were darker now.

Icarus grinned wider.

"That’s more like it," he said. "Now stay down."

A voice echoed in West’s mind, calm and deep like a warrior speaking from behind a throne.

~"Master... would you like for me to intervene?"~

West wiped blood from the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

"No," he muttered quietly.

"But Master—"

"I said no."

She paused briefly and then, in her stoic tone, she responded: "...As you command."

West exhaled and rolled his shoulders again, as if resetting his body and then he charged.

This time, the fight changed.

Because West stopped trying to win with pure speed.

He stopped trying to "out-move" the chains and detonations.

He started trying to trap the trappers.

Icarus whipped his chains.... Bront detonated air pockets.

West dodged... slid... bent... rolled...

But the detonations were timed like landmines.

Every time he came close to Icarus—

BOOM.

Every time he tried to flank—

WHIP.

Pain kissed his skin repeatedly and his breathing grew heavier but his eyes stayed sharp.

He needed one opening.

One moment.

And then West suddenly did something different.

He forced his way in close despite the detonations, taking a near-miss that singed his cheek.

Bront’s palms came together again, ready to detonate another air pocket right at West’s face—

But West’s eyes suddenly flashed as he lifted his hand—

And used Gor’thala’s magic.

[ Verdant Bloom Activated ]

A greenish glow flickered across his fingers as the ground beneath Bront erupted with thick, living roots.

They shot up like snakes, wrapping around Bront’s legs, torso, arms... tightening until his palms couldn’t clap.

Bront’s eyes widened in horror.

"What the—?!"

"Surprise," West said.

Bront struggled but the roots tightened even further.

He tried to force an air detonation but he couldn’t clap...

He couldn’t channel properly...

He was stuck.

West turned immediately to Icarus who swung his chains toward West.

West didn’t dodge... he grabbed them outrightly.

The chains crackled violently as electricity surged through West’s arms like molten needles. His muscles clenched and his teeth bared but he held on.

Icarus wasn’t expecting that.

"Are you stu—?!"

Before he could complete his sentence, West yanked hard with all his might.

Icarus stumbled forward uncontrollably—

And West’s uppercut was already loaded.

BOOM.

A clean uppercut landed on Icarus’s chin, snapping his head back.

Teeth flew as his body lifted off the ground and crashed across the courtyard in a humiliating roll.

The crowd erupted into screams and laughter.

"HE UPPERCUT HIM!"

"NAHHHH!"

"ICARUS JUST GOT SENT TO THE CLOUDS!"

West released the chains with a sharp breath as his hands trembled from the electricity.

He turned toward Bront, who was still trapped and cursing like his vocabulary had been waiting his whole life for this moment.

Bront’s eyes widened upon noticing West’s calm approach.

"Wait—wait—wait—"

West raised his hand and slapped Bront...

It wasn’t even a punch.

It was a disrespectful, heavy, teacher-like slap.

SMACK!

Bront spun in the air like a malfunctioning toy and crashed down several meters away, sliding to a stop with his dignity left behind him on the floor.

West stood there, breathing hard now.

His body was bruised, scorched and exhausted.

He dropped to one knee briefly, putting his palm on the ground and catching his breath.

His vision blurred for half a second but he smiled anyway.

"Went better than expected," he muttered.

He didn’t notice the silhouette behind him.

Didn’t notice the footsteps...

Because pain and adrenaline can make a person forget the most basic rule of fights:

Never relax when your enemy is still breathing.

A shadow had arrived right behind him...

He had crawled back into the scene like a roach with a grudge.

His face was swollen... his pride was shattered and his eyes were wild.

And in his hands was Vyre’s glowing violet sword.