"People really are stronger than they let on…" he thought, wiping the blood from his lip with the back of his hand.
Arthur, wincing from his own injuries, helped Phénix to his feet and guided him slowly back to the edge of the crowd.
"He's not there yet, but he's improving," Élio thought, rising to his feet as it was already his turn to fight again.
"The match lasted longer than expected, but that kid—Élio, I think—still hasn't had time to properly recover from his previous fight," said Lisa, arms crossed as she observed from the stands.
"I think this kind of pressure is perfect training for war," Clarck replied, slightly annoyed by Lisa's critique. "In real combat, you don't get to rest. The only breaks you get are the ones you fight for."
"I agree. That's exactly why I accepted the rules of this tournament," said Clément, backing Clarck.
"And honestly, I'm curious to see what this intriguing young man will show us next," Clément added, watching Élio step back into the ring, Jason following close behind, fresh and composed.
"Élio's screwed, isn't he?" said Louis, who had just returned to where Arthur and Phénix were sitting, both still visibly exhausted from their fight.
"Honestly, I think he's in a tough spot," Arthur admitted. "But judging by what he pulled off in the last round, I wouldn't be surprised if he pulled another miracle."
"Yeah, he seems confident," Phénix added with a tired breath. "He'll probably pull off some unpredictable move again… like he did with Azel."
Meanwhile, Darian was watching both fighters closely. If he won his upcoming match—something he was quite confident about—he'd be facing the winner of this fight. He studied their every move.
Frank, the referee, glanced briefly at Élio. The kid looked worn out but focused. Jason, on the other hand, was in peak condition. Calm, confident—but not arrogant. A smart approach after watching Élio's previous fight.
"Fight!" Frank said, stepping back.
Jason didn't waste a second.
"I can't let him catch his breath," he thought as he charged.
He launched a quick jab that Élio blocked with a raised forearm, then immediately followed with a spinning back kick that Élio dodged by stepping back. Jason continued his momentum, sweeping low with a kick aimed at Élio's ankles.
But Élio jumped.
In midair, he twisted his body and delivered a sharp kick directly to Jason's head. The blow landed cleanly, sending Jason staggering backward, stunned.
"You're a bit too predictable, big guy," Élio said with a smirk.
"He's seriously skilled," said Clément, impressed. "For someone his age to read and counter moves like that… It's shocking."
The others beside him didn't respond, but nodded subtly in agreement.
Jason shook his head to clear his vision, then reset his stance. He rushed in again, this time feinting a punch and switching to a side kick, but Élio blocked it with his shin and retaliated with a flurry of fast punches. Jason backed off, surprised at the energy Élio was still able to muster.
"He's trying to end this quickly. He knows he doesn't have stamina to spare," thought Darian.
Jason took a deep breath and moved in once more, this time using a more grounded approach—body shots, precise kicks, controlling the center. Élio began to falter slightly, slower in his reactions.
"He's fading," said Lisa. "Jason just has to outlast him now."
Élio took a punch to the ribs, then another to the shoulder. His breathing grew heavy, and sweat dripped from his brow.
Jason saw his chance and launched a powerful hook—but Élio ducked under it at the last moment, sliding to the side and kicking Jason's knee. Jason staggered, but not enough to fall.
"I can't win by attrition," Élio thought. "Only one clean hit will end this."
Jason came in again with a straight punch—but Élio twisted, grabbed his wrist, pulled him forward, and used the momentum to leap into the air.
A split second later, Élio's foot connected with Jason's temple in a devastating spinning roundhouse.
Crack.
Jason's eyes rolled back as he collapsed to the ground.
For a brief moment, there was only silence.
Then came a few murmurs through the crowd—quiet, almost disbelieving.
"He actually pulled it off," Arthur said, more to himself than to anyone else, his tone a mix of surprise and quiet respect.
"Didn't think he had anything left," Phénix muttered, still catching his breath. "But that kick… damn."
Clément narrowed his eyes slightly, arms crossed."He's a problem, that one. Not easy to read. Not easy to stop either."
Frank crouched beside Jason for a quick check, then stood and raised Élio's arm without ceremony.
"Winner: Élio," he announced, his voice calm and firm.
Élio, drenched in sweat and streaked with blood, didn't celebrate. He just stood there, breathing heavily, offering the faintest hint of a smile—half relief, half defiance.