Tom's flames still pushed him back. Farid's elements still cut off every retreat angle. Baaron was fighting with the fury of a cornered animal, and it wasn't enough.
Nobody was coming for him.
The master he had been serving, the figure he had trusted absolutely to win this battle, wasn't answering his calls of help.
Baaron was panicking beyond reason. Moon could see it from a hundred meters away. His stance had lost its shape.
His swings had lost their control. He was cycling through desperate strikes at Tom, then at Farid, then at Tom again, hoping one of them would land badly enough to give him a window of escape.
Tom was having the time of his life.
His grin hadn't dimmed at all. His golden gloves still flared brightly, he still had plenty left in the tank. He was walking Baaron toward his death at a pace that must have felt agonizing to the man trying to survive it.
Moon watched it all.
Then his eyes drifted to Ace.
Ace was completely unbothered.
