Demir's presence dominated the battlefield, as if the air itself had gained weight, pressing down on his opponents' bodies with a raw, invisible force.
Garon dropped to his knees beneath him, two lines of blood trickling from his mouth down his chin, his left hand resting on the spot Demir's knee had just struck, and his other hand still trapped in the dark-skinned man's grip.
Obviously, kneeling in front of your opponent while he's holding your hand wasn't the best choice... it was the worst, but for Garon in that moment the world was blurry and silent... the weight of that single blow had scrambled his whole brain.
In his whole life, the proud Garon never imagined he'd go down from a single blow in such a pathetic way... even though he hadn't fought Elliot or Caius since they disappeared, and he knew the gap between them had become vast now... he thought he could at least take their hits and fight them for a while... and the same went for Demir.
