The pit was filled to the brim with blood, turning the dirt into mud. Specs of dust floated in the air, but not even a single speck managed to land on Jin or the Cypher from Havoc; they were too fast for that.
They were at each other's throats every moment, Jin's movements hectic and primal, like a beast aiming for the kill—a predator against another predator, a fight for dominance.
But as Jin fought, there was no thought behind his actions. He fought purely on instinct, the arena becoming increasingly bloody—partially his own, partially his opponent's.
It was a dance of madness and malice, blade against fist, claws and fangs.
His fighting style had changed, his back now under a searing pain, far beyond the itch he had felt before. It was an unbearable, burning sensation that made his mind go numb, yet strangely, it left him feeling detached, almost as if he were on autopilot.
