Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere-Chapter 499: Path Chosen (Part 4)

Don didn’t let Redstar’s words hang in the air.

He stretched his arms, shook out his legs, rolled his shoulders once, then cracked his neck—crkk~.

"I’m ready," he said.

Redstar gave him a small smile. It wasn’t kind.

And without warning—

BOOMM~

The floor shook as she burst forward, bare feet cutting across the frost-lined floor in a blur. Don didn’t expect her to close distance that fast—not after giving him the illusion of a countdown—but he reacted anyway, lifting his guard just in time.

Her form telegraphed a kick.

He raised both forearms and caught it clean—thump~.

But the moment her foot recoiled, her fist was already swinging for his jaw.

He saw it coming.

But she saw something else—

His left thigh twitched.

She halted mid-motion, shifting her weight to spring back—

Too late.

Don’s left leg came up in a quick low strike, aiming for her ankle. She jumped back in the same instant, barely clearing it, but Don didn’t stop. That leg planted hard, and he spun—using the ground as a pivot.

His right leg came up in a fast high kick.

At this distance, she couldn’t fully dodge—not while matching his level.

She reacted anyway, forearms lifting to guard her face and chest.

His heel struck her guard—WHUDD~

Redstar flew back several feet, feet skidding across the frost before she twisted mid-air and fell into a clean landing.

And she didn’t wait.

She launched forward again—twice the speed from before, feet slamming into the floor like small blasts—thud-thud-thud~

Her kick swept toward his ribs.

Don dropped low and swung his leg in a sweep toward hers.

She hopped over it, spinning, and brought her heel down toward his shoulder.

He blocked with both arms—crack~—legs straining to hold under the extra gravity.

He tried to counter, but the cold caught him—the stiffness locking briefly into his thigh.

Redstar dropped back a step to reset.

Don didn’t let her.

He surged forward and slipped into a roll, sliding under her reach.

She blinked, thrown by the sudden change in angle, and Don used the momentum of his hands planting on the ground to launch himself upward.

His leg came up in a high arc—whoosh~

She dodged by inches.

But the follow-up low kick was already cutting toward her knee.

She braced—blocked—but the impact still pushed her back a step.

...Thirty Minutes Later

The room had become a mess of fogged breath, frost, sweat drops, and foot marks.

They were still sparring.

Both were covered in sweat—Redstar’s hair clinging to her forehead, Don’s chest and back glistening as steam rolled off him. The cold bit into their skin without mercy, and the gravity-slowed strain made every movement tug at the muscles like weighted cords.

But Don—

Don was in his element.

He stopped using his hands entirely.

No punches. No grapples.

Just legs.

He used them in ways Redstar clearly hadn’t expected—switching angles mid-kick, twisting from odd stances, throwing blows that broke rhythm just enough to bypass prediction.

Some hits landed.

Some were blocked.

But he never let up.

Redstar gritted her teeth as she blocked one of his higher kicks—

Only for the attack to blur in her eyes, slip lower mid-swing, and catch her ribs—THUMPP~

She exhaled sharply, feet dragging across the frozen mat.

But she caught his leg.

Her hand snapped around his ankle before he could retract it, grip firm.

"Got you," she muttered.

Her elbow crashed into his shin—CRACKK~—not enough to break anything with his durability, but enough to shock the muscle.

She spun, using the motion like a hammer throw and launched him across the room.

Don flew—WHAMMM~—slamming into the wall hard enough to send a tremor through the frame. Ice shook loose from the ceiling.

He slid down only a foot before landing on both feet like the hit barely counted.

He wiped sweat from his brow, eyes locked on her.

Redstar rolled her shoulder, breath steadying.

"Forty-six consecutive strikes," she said. "Not bad."

She raised her chin.

"But we start again."

Don exhaled, thinking—

’Fucking hell...’

He rolled his shoulders, legs flexing through the burn, and stepped forward.

...

.....

More time bled away in a blur of trial, error, and Redstar’s favorite command:

"Start over."

Don lost count of how many times she’d said it.

He only knew that each restart fed something sharper in him—focus, irritation, drive, all rolled into one.

His body burned, his legs quaked under the gravity and cold, but he kept going. Kept swinging. Kept repeating every motion until it was forced into him.

This attempt...

He was angry.

Focused enough that the rest of the world narrowed to shapes and movement.

His kicks came down on Redstar like a steady rain.

High, low, mid—he wasn’t even thinking about them anymore. His muscles moved on instinct, corrected by pain and repetition.

Redstar didn’t look half as tired as he did.

She blocked where she needed to, deflected where she wanted to, and countered with the calm of someone taking a stroll instead of fighting off a barrage.

Don’s heel crashed into her forearms again—THUDD~

She slid back across the frost, feet scraping thin streaks into the icy layer.

"That’s ninety-three," she said. "Seven more."

Don inhaled once, slow enough to feel it stretch through his chest.

Then he charged.

His next kick came in high—blocked.

The second swept low—she stepped around it.

The third snapped upward, angled toward her ribs—she caught it on her elbow.

The fourth dropped from above—stopped by her forearm.

The fifth lashed from the side—she tilted her shoulder, letting it scrape past.

The sixth came in low again—she lowered her stance to intercept it—

And then she moved to counter.

She shifted, her hand rising to grab his shin, ready to break his rhythm.

Don seized her wrist with both hands, yanked her forward—

And swung his other leg up in a brutal arc.

His heel connected with her chin clean—CRACKK~

Her teeth clenched as the hit lifted her off the ground.

She went airborne, hair flicking upward from the force.

But midair—she twisted.

She spun once, then slammed both feet down on the floor—BOOOMMM~

The impact rattled the entire room.

A shockwave burst across the floor, splitting the frost layer wide open and sending sheets of ice skidding across the room like broken glass.

Don shielded his face with one hand, breath dragging in and out as steam rose off his skin.

When the air settled, Redstar stood upright.

She wiped her chin with her thumb and glanced at the faint red smear left behind.

"That’s a hundred," she said.

She spat to the side—ptt~—then looked directly at him.

"This is a good start. You can leave. I still need to do my own training."

Don felt a laugh try to claw its way up his throat.

’So all that was... her warmup? Great.’

He kept the reaction off his face. The gap between them was still ugly. Still huge. But he had hit the mark.

And she had acknowledged it—even if her tone stayed flat as stone. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

He nodded. "Sure."

He turned toward the door, legs still humming from the strain, frost crunching under his feet.

Behind him, Redstar called out:

"I got your contact information from that snake William. I will let you know when next we shall train. Be ready."

"Sure thing," Don said without looking back.

Redstar didn’t add anything else.

She simply rolled one shoulder, lifted her arms overhead, and went straight back into stretching—like everything before this had been nothing more than a warm breath before the real work.