Harem God- Dimensional Motel System-Chapter 53: Interactions With The Night Part 12

This time, Peter charged in. His fists were up, elbows in, head low—classic boxer’s guard. He moved fast, looking to land the first clean hit.

He threw a jab, faked a move, then swung a hook at the ribs. His form was good, but his goal was sharper—Peter wanted to win, not show off.

Luck let the punch graze his shirt, then pivoted, catching a flash of Geo’s approach in his periphery.

Now they were coming at him together.

"Good strat," He grinned, the smallest sliver of tooth behind the balaclava. It was a textbook move—overwhelm, then isolate.

Geo’s foot snapped toward his knee, while Peter swung high with another hook.

Luck stepped in, crowding Peter and redirecting his momentum—just enough for the two to crash into each other.

Peter grunted as his shoulder clipped Geo’s chest. The two stumbled, feet tangling for half a second before they each broke off, breathing harder than before.

Luck didn’t chase. He stood still, letting them reset, eyes calm behind the goggles.

"Keep rushing like that, and you’ll end up hitting each other more than me."

Geo wiped his mouth, frustration building behind his eyes. Peter adjusted his stance, not saying a word this time.

"You trained karate?" Luck asked, amusement curling the words. "You keep overcommitting. The jaw’s not your target, man. Go for the liver, always the liver. It’s easier to hit and way harder to block if you set it up right. Trust me, I’ve got gold medals to prove it."

Geo didn’t answer. He moved in low, aiming to for a low sweep. His heel skimmed across the ground.

Luck raised his foot just in time, letting the sweep glide harmlessly underneath.

Peter rejoined the fight with a short shout, hoping to catch Luck off guard. He closed the distance with faster footwork , throwing a quick left, then a right straight to the chest.

"You’re heavy in the front foot. Fix that, and you could put someone down for good."

Luck blocked the first, slipped the second, and responded with a palm strike to the sternum.

It wasn’t fancy, but it landed solid. Peter staggered back, coughing, then dropped into a crouch, one hand pressed to the ground for support.

"Lesson number one: no matter how tough your body is, a clean hit to the solar plexus will always shut everything down."

Geo came at him again, feet shuffling quick to throw off his timing. But it didn’t work—Luck sidestepped with ease and swept the young man’s leg out, sending him crashing to the ground.

Both fighters froze in place, their confident expressions from earlier were gone.

Luck circled slowly, one hand dangling loose, the other still raised as if expecting more.

He almost looked disappointed.

"You guys are good," he conceded, tilting his head, "but you fight like you’re still waiting for instructions. I’m guessing you’re athletes—amateur level, maybe. You’ve got the form and technique, but no real experience fighting outside the gym."

They been proud of their own skills. Athletic, fast, and strong—those traits kept them alive this long.

But none of it mattered here. Against Luck, all of that was useless.

So why was he still going?

Simple—he wanted them to see him as someone above the rest. A real survivor. Dangerous. Capable

And more importantly, he was waiting for the last person to make a move.

The black haired young man hadn’t joined in. He just stood there, watching. Not afraid—just amused.

"Its not over yet," Geo grunted.

They tried again, the coordination between them better this time around.

Geo stepped in with a sharp snap kick—this time aimed at the gut.

Luck parried with his palm, felt the solid impact of bone and muscle, but Geo’s technique improved: the attack flowed straight into a forward step and a jab for the midsection, doubling down on the opening.

Peter followed, using the distraction to slip to the blind side. His balance was better now, front foot light and ready.

The punch that used to be a wide haymaker was now a tight, fast shot—driven just under the ribs, right where the floating bones were weakest.

Luck staggered back a step, more out of surprise than pain, and laughed. "You two learn fast. Nice."

But they didn’t give him time to bask. Geo pressed forward, feinting a kick to the stomach before changing into a spinning sweep at knee height—fast, rough, and meant to drop him.

Luck hopped over the sweep—but Peter was already closing in, a split second behind, hands set and ready for the clinch.

It was a perfect combination.

Unfortunately... playtime was over.

Mid-air, he grabbed Peter’s wrist and twisted, using it to shift direction before landing.

The moment his feet touched the ground, his pace doubled.

He closed the gap before either of them could react. His hand snapped forward—not a punch, but a sharp flick to Geo’s throat. Just enough to make the blonde choke, stumble back, and cough, eyes wide. ƒгeewebnovёl_com

Peter rushed in again, arms reaching around Luck’s waist. But the moment he grabbed on, Luck twisted his hips and dropped low—flipping Peter over his shoulder and slamming him to the ground with his own momentum.

thud!

"That was lesson two," he muttered, more to himself than to them. "When I get serious... there’s no stopping me."

The two didn’t get back up. They already surrendered—but they were smiling, too, because his words turned out to be true in the most ironic way.

Luck turned to Jun ."Your two friends have guts. But you? You’ll have to show some effort."

Jun let out a deep sigh—not out of fear, but because he knew he couldn’t hold back anymore.

Slowly, he began removing his clothes piece by piece. What greeted everyone was a body marked by countless scars—stab wounds, bullet holes, and along his back, a large eastern dragon tattoo.

"Whoa. So what’s your story? You don’t really expect me to believe you’re just some regular student, right?"

"Not really," Jun said, shaking his head. "I got pulled into some dangerous circles when I was still a kid. These scars... just part of the job back then."

Luck raised an eyebrow. "Dangerous circles, huh? What, did the Yakuza pick you up from the daycare school or something?"

Jun didn’t answer. He just started bouncing lightly on his feet—like a boxer.

The first punch came fast—straight and clean.

Luck slipped it by a hair, feeling the wind graze his cheek. Jun followed with a short hook, then a low kick aimed at the inside of the thigh.

Luck blocked the kick with his shin, but the impact still stung.

This wasn’t the kind of speed that could be learned in a gym. It was real, fight-hardened movement— efficient, and stripped of all wasted motion.

’There’s no mistaking it—this guy’s speed and strength are on par with Johan.’

Luck’s stance changed. Less relaxed now. He knew better than to underestimate his new opponent.

Jun wasn’t just trained in one style—his moves showed a mix of different martial arts.

And his battle instinct was good . He kept just enough distance, adjusting angles and footwork to make it hard for Luck to grab or trap him.

"I’ll admit it, you’re better than those two," Luck chuckled, still keeping a relaxed demeanor.

"But not by much. No wonder you’ve got all those stab wounds. That’s a skill issue."

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