Kosmo's instincts had been right. The armor Alexander wore was extraordinary. It was impossibly durable yet lightweight, its design enhancing Alexander's physical strength and speed to almost inhuman levels. Every punch Kosmo threw felt like it landed on a slab of marble, the impact diffused across the armor's surface. It was no wonder Alexander's confidence surged with every exchange.
But the gauntlets—Kosmo's gauntlets—were just as remarkable. They offered unparalleled protection to his hands, knuckles, wrists, and forearms, forming a seamless extension of his body. More importantly, Kosmo had noticed their true potential. Every time he released the energy stored within them, Alexander's reactions became more pronounced. The soldier winced, faltered, even briefly lost his composure when the strikes landed with energy-enhanced precision.
Kosmo's mind raced as he adjusted his strategy mid-fight. Throws were effective—Alexander was strong, but it was clear he wasn't accustomed to fighting from his back. Still, the armor would protect him from joint manipulations like wrist locks, and his sheer strength made techniques like armbars or kimuras almost impossible. A choke could work, but keeping Alexander's posture broken long enough to apply one was a tall order. Instead, Kosmo cataloged every moment Alexander found himself off-balance or faltering under the gauntlets' energy. There was no single, decisive way to overcome the soldier. The answer lay in cumulative precision.
Strikes were the answer. Kosmo had to overwhelm Alexander with precision and energy. He would let the gauntlets unleash their full potential. Each strike would channel a different energy, testing the limits of both Alexander and his armor. Frost would chill him to the bone, slowing his movements. Fire would burn, forcing him to flinch. Electricity would shock his nerves, disrupting his coordination. And psionic energy… that would tear at his mind, attacking the man beneath the armor.
Kosmo shifted his weight, replaying the pattern of their exchanges in his mind. Alexander relied on his armor to absorb punishment, treating the fight like a battering ram against a fortress. It wasn't entirely wrong—the armor was a marvel, shrugging off impacts that would have shattered bones or incapacitated a lesser opponent. But it wasn't infallible. Kosmo had seen the slight delay in Alexander's counters whenever the gauntlets discharged their energy. It was a small weakness, but it was there, and Kosmo intended to exploit it.
He adjusted his stance, centering his focus. If he let the gauntlets go wild, cycling through frost, fire, electricity, and psionics, Alexander would be forced to fight on multiple fronts. Kosmo didn't have to overpower him; he just had to wear him down, targeting his body's natural limitations beneath the armor's protection. It wasn't about brute force. It was about precision.
Every decision in the fight had to balance risk and reward. Kosmo knew that Alexander's enhanced strength could shatter his ribs if he misjudged his timing. He had already seen the sheer power behind the soldier's swings, each one capable of cratering the ground had they landed cleanly. Kosmo relied on footwork, weaving just outside the range of Alexander's strikes while testing his opponent's reflexes. The gauntlets glowed faintly, their energy coiling like a predator waiting to strike. Alexander noticed and adjusted, his movements growing more aggressive with every moment Kosmo stayed out of reach.
Kosmo's breath steadied as he observed Alexander's movements, searching for patterns. The armor didn't just protect; it amplified. Alexander's balance and recovery were unnaturally swift, his ability to pivot and counterattack seemingly flawless. But even perfection had limits. Every lunge and swing burned energy. Every missed blow fed Kosmo's understanding of the armor's rhythm. He began to see it—the subtle shifts in weight, the microseconds where Alexander's aggression outpaced his balance.
Kosmo took a deliberate step forward, feinting an opening. As expected, Alexander lunged, his fists glowing with the radiant energy of his armor. Kosmo sidestepped cleanly, the motion smooth as water. His gauntlets flashed blue, the frost energy surging as he brought an open palm to the back of Alexander's shoulder. The energy burst outward, leaving a thin layer of ice that clung stubbornly to the armor's surface. Alexander stumbled, his footing momentarily compromised.
It wasn't enough to stop him. Alexander roared, shrugging off the frost and turning with a wild swing that forced Kosmo to retreat. But the damage was done. Kosmo had seen it—the faint hesitation in Alexander's recovery, the fraction of a second where his enhanced speed faltered. The armor wasn't invulnerable. It could endure incredible punishment, but Kosmo's strikes were targeting the man inside it.
He let his gauntlets flare crimson, the fire energy roaring to life. Heat rippled along the metal surface, a visual promise of destruction. Kosmo circled Alexander, keeping his steps deliberate and controlled. The crowd's murmurs buzzed at the edges of his awareness, a faint undercurrent to the rhythm of the fight. Every strike had to matter. Every blow had to carry intention. Kosmo launched forward, his fists moving with measured precision. A jab to Alexander's exposed jaw forced the soldier to raise his guard. Kosmo followed with a flaming uppercut, the energy dispersing in a fiery burst that drew a grunt of pain from his opponent.
Alexander retaliated immediately, his strikes relentless. Kosmo's arms absorbed the impacts, the gauntlets' protective surface sparing him the worst of the damage. But each blow carried raw force, pushing Kosmo back step by step. His muscles burned as he deflected another crushing hook, the vibration rattling up his arm. Still, Kosmo held his ground. Every exchange gave him more data, more understanding of the battle's rhythm.
This wasn't a fight about strength. It was a puzzle, and Kosmo was piecing it together with every move. He saw the cracks forming in Alexander's armor—not literal cracks, but the gaps in his overwhelming momentum. The gauntlets' glow shifted to a brilliant yellow, lightning sparking along their edges. Kosmo allowed himself a single deep breath before diving back into the fray, his movements sharper, faster, and fueled by purpose.