A scream pierced through the chaos.
It wasn't the usual grunts of pain or curses thrown between fists and fury, it was sharp, raw, filled with something primal. Real agony. Most of the fighters didn't even glance up. They clenched their teeth and kept going, too caught in their own battles, their own survival. But Aron heard it. He felt it.
And he knew who it was.
That scream… that was Max… the Young Master. He's in trouble. I need to get to him, now.
Aron's eyes flicked past the man in front of him. Elephant. His opponent was bleeding from multiple wounds: across his thigh, his chest, both arms. Dozens of shallow cuts. They weren't life-threatening on their own, but together they told a different story. The kind of story that ended with someone collapsing.
And yet… Elephant still stood.
