How was Aaron meant to win this fight?
The thought looped continuously in his mind, rhythmic and unrelenting, synchronized with the heavy thud of his boots against the cold floor. The recent clash had laid out a brutal, undeniable reality. Monk was faster. Monk was stronger. And, worst of all, Monk was just as skilled.
Aaron's entire fighting style relied on reading the room—on picking up the subtle cues, setting mental traps, and luring opponents into making a critical error. Finding a way to outsmart a stronger foe was the only way Aaron knew how to survive. But how could you trick a wrecking ball that knew all the same tricks you did?
Determined to break the rhythm, Aaron charged. As the distance between them closed, he deliberately scraped the tip of his weapon against the ground. Dust and gritty debris exploded upward, flinging directly toward Monk's face.
