Amid the thunderous roar of the crowd — boots stomping against steel-laid stands, chants of "Kyle! Kyle!" echoing like rolling avalanches — Kyle staggered forward, every step uneven and trembling, yet his grin wide enough to hold the entire battlefield's pride. His chest rose and fell in ragged, wheezing breaths, fresh blood trickling down the slope of his jaw and dripping from his split knuckles, but even so he squared his shoulders and forced himself to stand tall in front of Luca.
The smirk he wore was stubborn, defiant — a victorious flame refusing to be dimmed.
"I… am not weaker than you… or Aiden… or anyone…" he declared, voice hoarse yet unwavering, as though his determination alone could keep him upright.
A heartbeat later his knees finally gave out.
