He jumped up right away and grabbed the first handhold.
He easily grabbed the edges with his big hands and started to pull himself up.
As he moved up, his muscles flexed as he used each strong arm in turn.
Sweat streamed down his cheeks, but his face stayed calm.
His legs pushed against the wall, using his full body strength to propel him higher.
In just a few pulls, he reached the top, breathing steady but with a small smirk of satisfaction on his face.
Balim gave his team a quick look back before launching himself onto the following platform, where his feet landed with a firm thud.
Now came the unstable pillars.
Each one wobbled and shifted with every step, their surfaces barely stable enough to support a person's weight.
Balim's eyes narrowed, and for the first time, there was a look of seriousness on his face.
This part required more than just strength, it required finesse.
He stepped onto the first pillar cautiously, testing its balance.
It rocked slightly, but Balim adjusted, shifting his weight with careful precision.
As he moved from one pillar to the next, his steps became quicker, almost like a predator leaping from rock to rock in the wild.
His arms stretched out again for balance, and there was a brief moment when one pillar tilted dangerously to the side, causing him to nearly lose his footing.
But with a grunt and a strong push from his leg, Balim launched himself onto the next one, his body moving like a coiled spring, ready to adjust at any moment.
His team stood there and waited. When he finally made it across, there were a few small cheers.
Balim looked back, giving them a cheeky smile before continuing to the suspended ladder. .net
The ladder swayed gently in the breeze, its metal rungs gleaming in the sunlight.
He glanced at Ronan, who was looking at the stopwatch with a raised eyebrow.
Balim couldn't help but chuckle. "Hey, Ronan," he said, his thick accent rolling over the words, "you think I get title shot if I win this? Maybe I stop fighting, do this obstacle thing instead!" He flexed his muscles again, jokingly showing off.
Ronan laughed, shaking his head. "If that's how you want to earn your title shot, Balim, I'm sure we can set something up," he replied, playing along with the joke.
Balim grinned wider, pointing to the course. "Easy, brother. I smash this, I smash anything. Maybe next challenge, I run through walls, eh?"
The fighters on both teams laughed, some shaking their heads at Balim's antics.
Donald Whittier looked at the group with his signature easygoing smile. His sharp eyes were scanning the course.
He stretched his arms out casually, then glanced at the fighters and the coaches. "Alright, alright," he said, chuckling, "I'll try not to embarrass anyone too much."
The fighters laughed, some clapping their hands in encouragement.
Damon and Ivan exchanged smirks, knowing that despite Whittier's calm demeanor, he was dead serious when it came to competition.
"Let's get this over with, shall we?" Whittier added, pulling off his shirt, revealing his fit and battle-tested physique.
He might not have had the same bulky, imposing frame as Balim, but Whittier was lean and toned, every muscle was also product of years of training and discipline.
He took a deep breath and nodded to Ronan. "Let's do this."
Ronan grinned, stopwatch in hand. "Ready when you are, Donald!"
With a nod, Whittier stepped up to the first obstacle, the balance beam.
Whittier hopped onto the narrow beam, his feet moving with precision.
His balance was near-perfect as he gracefully danced across, his arms extended slightly to steady himself.
The beam wobbled under his feet, but Whittier's focus was locked in.
He took his time, unlike Balim's rush, moving with deliberate care.
Behind him, the fighters cheered him on, but Whittier remained calm, not letting the noise distract him.
Once he reached the end of the beam, he leaped off, landing solidly on the next platform.