Tharnok, battered and bleeding, stood on shaky legs.
His body was a wreck—bones fractured, skin torn, blood oozing down his arms and chest—but he held himself upright through nothing but pure willpower and raw hatred.
His single working eye twitched as he watched Alex approach, every step echoing like a countdown in his ears.
Each footfall wasn't just sound—it was an insult.
It was a reminder of how outmatched he was.
Tharnok may have been talking big, but deep down, he knew the truth.
One more hit. That's all it would take.
One more, and he'd be finished.
His body couldn't take another attack like before.
He was out of options.
Unless…
Unless he could catch Alex off guard.
Make him slip. Make him mad. Then finish it with one final blow.
But that wasn't going to be easy.
Alex didn't seem like the hot-headed type.
Now they stood face to face.
Inches apart.
And Tharnok spat blood to the side with a sharp sneer.
"Is this… is this all you got, worm?"
Alex paused.
