Elior felt the hard punch on his mouth and his body flung away a couple of metres away.
His opponent did not let him go that easily, and went straight at his staggering body to deal punches right at his gut, one after another. The crowd was still screaming—cheering for whoever was winning. They had no favourite so far, after all. At least that was what appeared to Elior as he got all the beatings.
Elior grounded his teeth and tried to put back his armament defence, but it was far more difficult to do it while getting a beating. The match had been going well for him, and was almost on the way to securing victory, but only in one blink of an eye. It turned one-eighty degrees from him giving the thrashing to getting the thrashing.
