Zel cut himself off mid-sentence, fading out and into sight so quickly he was impossible to keep track of. The speed of the blow was too quick for Oz to respond to and before he knew what was happening his head whipped back and the momentum sent him tumbling across the ground.

	The stubborn hand immediately pushed himself up off the ground. His head was pounding and it was difficult to think of anything clearly. One term stuck out at him, repeating itself over and over in his head, "You really lack any sort of approach... you really lack any sort of approach..." He wiped blood off the corner of his mouth before spitting a wad into the dust. He'd cut the inside of his mouth during that last exchange.

	Oz was breathing more rapidly now, his heart was racing. There was no grin decorating his face anymore. He felt shaky on his feet but forced himself back into a boxing stance. "You're absolutely right..." He agreed. It was clear from that second-long demonstration that Zel was going easy on him. He was probably toying with him like a cat plays with its prey.

	In that brief moment he knew he might have to rely on something he knew how to do: Wrestle. There was no defense against that speed that wasn't going to get picked apart instantly. He may as well have been standing still and waiting for the crazy to hit him. So why not keep him from moving? He pushed his body to its quickest limit, dashing forward and feigning a heavy swing so he could get within reach to hug him.