My Ultimate Sign-in System Made Me Invincible - Chapter 491 Demolished Matt (2)

Chapter 491  Demolished Matt (2)

Matt dove toward the frozen surface, not attacking Liam but targeting the ground. His fist extended, the exosuit’s enhanced strength focusing into a single point, and he drove his punch into the ice with everything the suit could generate.

The impact was massive. The ice shattered in a radial pattern extending dozens of meters in every direction, chunks of frozen water erupting upward in a chaotic spray that created an instant cloud of white fragments. The crater Matt’s punch created was easily three meters across and half that deep, the shattered ice turning into an impromptu smoke screen that obscured vision from every angle.

It was clever. Using the environment to create visual obstruction, denying Liam’s ability to track his movements, potentially creating the unpredictability needed to land an actual hit.

For perhaps two seconds, it seemed like it might work.

Then Liam’s fist emerged from the cloud of ice fragments, his movement so precise that the flying debris seemed to part around him, and struck Matt in the chest with the same controlled force he’d been using throughout the fight.

Matt flew backward out of the ice cloud, his trajectory flat and fast, and this time when he hit the ground, he skipped across the surface like before but with less energy, his momentum bleeding away faster until he slid to a stop on his back, staring up at the pale sky.

“Three minutes thirty seconds,” Liam’s voice came through the communication system. “One minute thirty remaining. The ice cloud was creative. Environmental manipulation to create unpredictability. But I don’t rely solely on vision—I can sense you with my spiritual sense and my telekinetic sense, track your position through them rather than through visual confirmation. Which makes visual obstruction less effective than you’d hoped.”

Matt made a sound that might have been laughter or might have been a sob of frustration. Spiritual sense tracking. Of course. Because being faster, stronger, and more experienced wasn’t enough—Liam also had supernatural sensory capabilities that rendered physical obstruction meaningless.

He lay there for a moment longer than he probably should have, letting the exosuit’s systems run their diagnostics and letting his brain try to process a solution that probably didn’t exist. The five-minute goal felt impossible now, an eternity of continued beating that his pride would barely survive even if his body did.

But the Titanium Eagle. His personal space shuttle. The ability to go to space whenever he wanted, to fly among the stars, to have that kind of freedom and capability.

For that, he could endure one more minute and thirty seconds of this.

Matt forced himself to sit up, then to stand, his movements mechanical now, his body responding to stubborn determination rather than any genuine tactical thinking. He raised his fists again, his guard position shakier than before, his stance less stable.

“You’ve got heart,” Liam said, and there was genuine respect in his voice.

“One minute thirty seconds,” Matt’s voice was rough, strained. “I can survive one minute thirty seconds. I’ve done worse things for worse reasons.”

Liam’s expression shifted into something that might have been sympathy. “The problem, Matt, is that you’ve been measuring the wrong thing this entire time.”

Matt’s enhanced perception caught the movement before his conscious mind processed the words. Liam was suddenly there, directly in front of him, close enough that Matt could see his expression clearly through both their helmet visors.

And in that expression was something that made Matt’s stomach drop.

Liam’s fist didn’t aim for Matt’s torso or his guard. It rose in a precise uppercut, moving faster than Matt’s enhanced reflexes could respond to, and struck directly under his chin.

The impact snapped Matt’s head back. The exosuit’s protection systems engaged immediately, preventing his neck from breaking, preventing the kind of catastrophic spinal damage that the force should have caused. But the protection systems couldn’t prevent his brain from rattling inside his skull, couldn’t stop the neural disruption that came from a perfectly placed knockout blow delivered with overwhelming precision.

Matt’s vision went white, then dark. His legs gave out, his guard dropped, his entire body going limp as consciousness simply switched off like a light being extinguished.

He collapsed backward, his exosuit’s systems catching him before he hit the ice fully, lowering him down with automated care that prevented additional injury. His breathing continued, steady and regular, the suit’s life support maintaining his unconscious body’s vital functions.

Liam stood over him, looking down with an expression of genuine regret mixed with something that might have been guilt.

“I’m sorry, Matt,” he said quietly, though Matt couldn’t hear him. “But you weren’t measuring how long you could stay combat-capable. You were measuring how long until I decided the lesson was complete. And the lesson was about understanding your limits, not about pushing past them until you broke yourself.”

He turned to look at the other seven, who had watched the entire five-minute—well, three-minute-forty-five-second—beating with expressions ranging from horror to sympathy.

“The deal was that he had to last five minutes while remaining conscious and combat-capable,” Liam said, his voice carrying clearly across the distance. “He lost consciousness at three minutes forty-five seconds. Which means technically, he failed.”

The group was silent, processing this, probably expecting Liam to use the technicality to deny Matt his space shuttle despite the impressive display of stubborn determination they’d just witnessed.

Liam’s expression shifted into a slight smile.

“But the spirit of the challenge was about determination, about being willing to endure for something he wanted badly enough. And Matt demonstrated all of that in abundance. So even though he failed the technical requirements, I’m going to honor the spirit of the deal.”

He gestured at Matt’s unconscious form, the exosuit’s systems already running revival protocols to bring him back to consciousness.

“When he wakes up, tell him he’s getting his space shuttle. The Titanium Eagle will be constructed and stationed at Lunar Base Sanctuary within the month, with remote summon capability and all the features he requested. Because even though he didn’t last five minutes, he earned it through sheer stubborn refusal to quit despite being completely outmatched.”

Stacy was the first to recover enough to speak. “You’re really going to give him the shuttle?”

“I made a deal,” Liam said simply. “And more importantly, he demonstrated exactly the kind of determination and heart that makes someone worthy of that kind of trust and responsibility. Matt’s going to do something ridiculous with that shuttle eventually—probably multiple ridiculous things—but he’ll do them with the same stubborn courage he showed here. That’s worth rewarding.”

Matt’s eyes fluttered open at that moment, his consciousness returning with the gradual awareness of someone waking from deep sleep. His first words, slightly slurred from the lingering effects of the knockout, were entirely predictable.

“Did I make it?”

“No,” Liam said, but his smile was warm. “You lasted three minutes and forty-five seconds before I knocked you out. You failed the technical requirements of the challenge.”

Matt’s face fell, disappointment visible even through the helmet’s visor.

“But,” Liam continued, “you’re still getting the Titanium Eagle. Congratulations, Matt. You’re officially a spacecraft owner. Try not to cause any international incidents.”

Matt’s expression shifted through several emotions in rapid succession—confusion, comprehension, disbelief, and finally pure joy that made him look like a kid on Christmas morning despite having just spent nearly four minutes getting systematically destroyed.

“I’m getting the shuttle?”

“You’re getting the shuttle.”

“The Titanium Eagle?”

“The Titanium Eagle.”

Matt tried to sit up, his movements still shaky, and his friends immediately moved to help him, supporting his weight as his body remembered how to function after being knocked unconscious.

“I can’t believe it,” he said, his voice carrying wonder mixed with lingering disorientation. “I actually did it. I mean, I didn’t, but I did anyway. This is the best day of my life.”

“You got beaten unconscious,” Harper pointed out, though there was affection in his voice.

“But I got a space shuttle out of it,” Matt countered. “That’s a net win by any reasonable metric.”

The group’s laughter echoed across the frozen Antarctic expanse, warm and genuine. They were really surprised by Liam’s generousity.

And somewhere in the back of Matt’s concussion-addled mind, he was already planning the Titanium Eagle’s first flight, probably to somewhere ridiculous, definitely without proper authorization, absolutely guaranteed to give someone in a government office a stress-induced headache.

But that was a problem for future Matt. Present Matt was just happy to be conscious and the proud theoretical owner of a spacecraft that didn’t exist yet but absolutely would within the month.

It was, he decided, totally worth getting knocked out for.