Part-60

  James, fuelled by a burning defiance, tinued his desperate dance of evasion. He remembered aacti the martial arts book – a low block aimed at defleg a leg sweep. As Sourov telegraphed a familiar throw, James dropped low, his forearm smming into the attacker's kh a satisfying thud. The blow didn't stop Sourov, but it bought James a preoment, a sliver of space to breathe.

  The cheers from the crowd, initially a blur in his ringing ears, started to e into focus.

  His eyes darted around the makeshift arena, searg for an escape, a strategy. The System's mission timer, a cruel reminder of his limitations, flickered out of existe the two-minute mark. He had survived the impossible, but the fight was far from over. Thirty seds remained, an agonizing stretch of time that felt like aire lifetime.

  Sourov, frustrated by James' persistent dodging, lunged with a wild haymaker. James, on instinct, raised his arm just in time to deflect the blow. The impact sent a jolt of pain shooting through his arm, but it saved him from a potentially fight-ending blow. He stumbled back, his legs wobbly, his vision blurring at the edges.

  Two minutes and thirty seds. Just thirty monizing seds. James knew he couldn't fight head-on anymore. He o use his remaining energy wisely, exploit any opening Sourov might offer.

  The world narrowed to a tunnel vision of Sourov's angry faing over him. James tasted blood, metallid sharp, as his head throbbed with each bored breath. His arms felt like lead weights, barely able to hold themselves up. Fifteen seds. Just fifteen agonizing seds left before the three minutes were up.

  Suddenly, Sourov's massive form smmed into him, driving the air from his lungs. James felt his back hit the mat with a siing thud, the world tilting on its axis. Sourov's weight pinned him down, a knee digging into his chest, restrig his already shallow breaths. Panic cwed at James' throat. This was it. He was going to lose. He was going to fail the mission, the humiliation, the injury, all for nothing.

  Just as the edges of his vision started to darken, a translut blue s materialized in the air, h inches from his fabsp; In stark white letters, a question pulsed with an urgency that mirrored the pounding in his chest:

  [Will you enter Crisis Mode? Y/N]

  A wave of fusion washed over him. Crisis Mode? What did that even mean? But his survival instinct, honed in these past brutal minutes, roared its answer. James, with a primal grunt that surprised even himself, smmed his mind against the glowing "Y" option.

  The world went white for a fleeting moment, then snapped bato focus with a jarring iy. The pain was still there, a dull ache throbbing in every part of his body. But something had ged. A strange crity washed over him, sharpening his focus, pushing away the haze of exhaustion. He felt a surge of energy course through his veins, a desperate burst of power fueled by adrenaline and a newfound…rage?