Alex stepped forward slowly.
Each bootfall crunching over the broken remains of ice and shattered stone.
CRACK.
CRACK.
The crowd watched in silence, tension building with every step he took.
Alex's gaze never left Tharnok.
His expression was cold and focused.
Like a scientist preparing for the next phase of an experiment.
Tharnok, battered and bleeding, stood on shaky legs.
His body was a wreck—bones fractured, skin torn, blood oozing down his arms and chest—but he held himself upright through nothing but pure willpower and raw hatred.
His single working eye twitched as he watched Alex approach, every step echoing like a countdown in his ears.
Each footfall wasn't just sound—it was an insult.
It was a reminder of how outmatched he was.
Tharnok may have been talking big, but deep down, he knew the truth.
One more hit. That's all it would take.
One more, and he'd be finished.
His body couldn't take another attack like before.
He was out of options.
Unless…
