From the center of the stage, Max looked across the gap and locked eyes with Aron. Even from several meters away, the state of his ally was obvious. Aron's face was completely drenched in a thick layer of sweat, and his breathing was jagged and uneven. Max didn't for a second imagine that this was simply because Aron had gone for a brisk run to get here; he knew his friend well enough to recognize the signs of someone who was barely holding onto their consciousness through a haze of absolute agony.
'Is he really going to ignore all of that?' Max thought, a knot of guilt tightening in his chest. 'Is he actually going to force his body to move just to fight against Ramon in that condition? Because of his injury, that must be exactly what he meant when he said he could only give me a single minute.'
