Azkai, his cybernetic body groaning under the onslaught, stumbled back. It was hard to accept, but he knew the fight was lost, the Montana a missed bullet. But pride, a stubborn fuel, refused to let him yield. He threw a final, desperate punch, a haymaker born from his refusal to lose.
Calyx, his left eye a cold, calculating star, stepped inside the blow. He caught Azkai's fist in his palm, the metal groaning under the pressure. For a moment, their eyes locked, a silent exchange of respect, of understanding. Then, with a measured but powerful punch, Calyx sent Azkai crashing back to the ground, but this time unconscious, and the fight was over.
The iron cage erupted in boos and cheers. The crowd, their bloodlust fed nonetheless, roared in a deafening wave. Calyx stood bathed in the neon glow, his grey eye flickering back to its usual oceanic depth.
