The moment Kosmo charged forward, the battle turned into a storm of fists and willpower. Precision gave way to raw tenacity as the two combatants closed the distance. Kosmo's gauntlets flared brightly, shifting between hues of crimson, blue, and yellow with each rapid strike. Every punch was a calculated risk, each landing with enough force to make Alexander stagger but never enough to keep him down for long.
Alexander roared as he retaliated, his white-armored fists crashing down with the force of a battering ram. Kosmo ducked and weaved, absorbing the glancing blows with his gauntlets and letting his feet carry him just out of reach of Alexander's devastating swings. But even with his agility, the relentless pace of Alexander's strikes began to wear on him. Sweat dripped from Kosmo's brow as his breathing grew heavier, his focus narrowing to the next punch, the next step, the next counter.
A sharp left hook from Kosmo caught Alexander square on the jaw, snapping his head to the side. Before Alexander could recover, Kosmo followed up with a brutal uppercut, his gauntlets glowing crimson as fire energy burst on impact. The force of the blow drove Alexander back a step, his armor hissing faintly as heat radiated from the strike.
Alexander growled, his movements wild but powerful as he lunged forward. His fists crashed down like hammers, forcing Kosmo to backpedal under the onslaught. The two exchanged a flurry of blows, their movements almost too fast for the watching crowd to follow. Kosmo ducked low, driving his shoulder into Alexander's midsection before pivoting and delivering a spinning backfist. The strike connected with the side of Alexander's head, the impact sending a spray of sweat into the air.
Kosmo pressed the advantage, his fists a blur as he targeted Alexander's exposed head. One punch landed cleanly above Alexander's right eye, and a thin line of red began to well up from the skin. The cut wasn't deep, but the blood trickled down, smearing across Alexander's brow and threatening to obscure his vision. Kosmo saw the opening and doubled down, his strikes coming faster and harder, each one aimed to exploit the growing weakness.
Alexander swung wildly, his movements fueled by desperation as he tried to keep Kosmo at bay. But the relentless assault was too much. Kosmo landed another sharp blow to Alexander's temple, the psionic energy from his gauntlets rippling through the soldier's mind and leaving him momentarily stunned. Blood dripped steadily from the cut above Alexander's eye now, the crimson streaks painting a vivid contrast against the pristine white of his armor.
The crowd roared, their voices a chaotic symphony of awe and excitement. Kosmo barely heard them. His focus was absolute, his every movement honed to finish the fight. He ducked under a clumsy swing from Alexander and stepped inside his guard, delivering a punishing series of hooks and uppercuts. Each strike drew more blood, each impact sapping Alexander's strength.
With a guttural shout, Alexander lashed out, his fists swinging in wide arcs. Kosmo dodged the first swing but caught the second on his forearm, the force of the blow numbing his arm for a moment. He gritted his teeth and retaliated with a straight punch to Alexander's nose, the crack of impact echoing through the chamber as blood splattered onto the ground.
Alexander's movements grew slower, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought to stay upright. Kosmo could see it in his eyes—the dawning realization that he was losing. But even as his body began to falter, Alexander refused to fall, his defiance burning brightly in his gaze. Kosmo respected that, even as he prepared to deliver the final blow.
The cut above Alexander's eye was his undoing. Blood dripped into his left eye, forcing him to blink rapidly and impairing his vision. Kosmo saw the hesitation and seized the moment. His gauntlets flared with crimson energy as he drove a powerful uppercut into Alexander's chin. The soldier's head snapped back, and his body crumpled to the ground, the sound of his collapse reverberating through the chamber.
For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Alexander lay on the ground, gasping for air, his chest rising and falling heavily as he stared up at the ceiling. The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices a deafening wave of approval. But Kosmo barely noticed. His sharp eyes remained fixed on Alexander, watching for any sign of movement.
"It's over," Alexander rasped, his voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd. "I lost."
Kosmo frowned, his gauntlets dimming as he stepped closer. His chest heaved as he caught his breath, his hands still raised defensively. He wasn't sure if he trusted Alexander's surrender. The soldier had been nothing if not tenacious throughout the fight.
"Get up," Kosmo said, his tone filled with genuine concern. He stood over Alexander, his posture tense as he waited for a response. "You're not done yet."
Alexander turned his head slightly, his bloodied face twisting into a faint, tired smile. "You… really don't know when to stop, do you?" he muttered before letting his head fall back against the ground. His body relaxed, the fight finally leaving him.
Before Kosmo could respond, a resonant voice echoed through the chamber, silencing the crowd. "Enough," one of the Twelve announced, their tone firm and authoritative. "The fight is over. Kosmo is the victor."
The declaration hung in the air, and the crowd erupted into another wave of cheers. Kosmo's jaw tightened as he looked down at Alexander, his earlier concern still etched in his expression. "Get up," Kosmo repeated, this time his tone filled with genuine worry rather than command. "You're stronger than this."
Kosmo remained still for a moment longer, his gaze lingering on the fallen soldier. The crowd continued to cheer, their excitement unabated, but Kosmo's jaw tightened as disgust flared in his chest. He had won, but seeing Alexander lying there, beaten and refusing to rise, felt hollow. Victory demanded resolve, even in defeat, and Alexander's stillness grated against Kosmo's own sense of survival.
Kosmo turned away from Alexander, his expression hardening. The energy in the chamber shifted as he strode toward the Twelve, the glow of his gauntlets now fully extinguished. Without hesitation, he dropped to one knee before them, lowering his head in a gesture of reverence. The crowd's cheers faltered, confusion rippling through the onlookers as they tried to make sense of his unexpected action. The Twelve, however, exchanged silent glances of approval, their otherworldly presence radiating an unspoken acknowledgment of Kosmo's gesture. In the hushed chamber, their faint nods carried more weight than any words.