Chapter 37: The Exploited Weakness

The air inside the arena was choking, heavy with dust and tension as Axel and Cyrus faced each other once more. Their fists crashed like cannons, their shockwaves coursing over the war zone that brought all of the recruit—soldier and spectator alike—to a stunned standstill. The unadulterated power of the two warriors commanded the wreckage of the bout, yet, through the carnage, Axel found a clarity of mind.

Cyrus's rage power was a double-edged sword. It gave him explosive strength, but ravaged his control. Each blow was wild, out of control, straining his body to its limits that it was not meant for. Axel had witnessed it—the inconsistency in Cyrus's blows, the slowing of his blows with each rage outburst. It was a crack, a fault line waiting to be used.

Axel parried a bone-shuddering punch, his amber eyes flashing with resolve as he spun hard and fired back with a solid jab to Cyrus's ribs. Cyrus winced and stumbled slightly as the impact landed, but his face immediately contorted into a feral snarl.

"Tiring out?" Axel spat, his voice even but cutting.

Cyrus growled, his own hands shaking in fury as he launched at Axel once more with fresh vigor. "Shut your mouth!"

Axel dodged effortlessly, moving with deliberate precision as he wove to the sides of Cyrus's drunken attacks. "You're irresponsible," he went on, his tone level as he danced around his attacker. "You're burning through your power quicker than you can possibly know. How long do you suppose you're going to keep going like this?"

Cyrus's blows became more powerful, but less accurate, his rage taking him deeper into anarchy. Axel's words struck a nerve and the fissures in Cyrus's mask widened. "I don't need control to beat you!" Cyrus bellowed, his gray eyes blazing with fury as he punched again.

Axel dodged the strike, coming back at him with a hard uppercut that knocked Cyrus off guard. "Amusing," Axel replied calmly, his eyes on the other man. "It would seem that you do, though."

As Ava and Atlas were inches away from the goal line, dashing wildly as Sigma's reservists made a last desperate charge. **062** charged at an incredible pace that had Ava stumbling hard to the side, pulling the flag hard to get away from them, while it brushed by inches from **062's** hand.

"They're not giving up!" shouted Ava at a straining, loud pitch of voice.

Atlas moved in, landing a bone-shaking punch on **062**, which sent him reeling. "Stay alert!" Atlas bellowed, his voice like a command as he moved in to deflect **045**, who rushed at Ava with fresh desperation.

Atlas held firm, his massive frame in Ava's path as **045** rushed into him. The collision was vicious, but Atlas stood firm, his power unyielding as he pushed Sigma's recruit back.

"Go!" Atlas shouted, his voice echoing across the battlefield.

Ava didn't wait. She sprinted for the base, legs aflame as she struggled against agony. The goal line was almost there, a few strides away, and she felt the weight of victory within reach.

Back at the center of the battlefield, Axel pressed his advantage, his strikes sharp and deliberate as he exploited Cyrus's growing recklessness. Cyrus swung wildly, his movements heavy and erratic, each missed blow leaving him more vulnerable.

"You're losing control," Axel said quietly, his voice cutting through Cyrus's fury like a blade. "And it's costing you."

Cyrus bellowed in fury across the arena as he charged once more, fists quivering at the strain to keep his ire ablaze. Axel effortlessly dodged and struck Cyrus with a series of piercing, light-speed jabs that dazed Cyrus. Recruits standing on the sidelines gasped as Axel's accuracy left Cyrus literally shaken.

"You really believe you can whip me like that?" Axel went on, his voice steady but unyielding. "You're fighting yourself harder than you're fighting me."

Cyrus's snarl grew more feral, his breast labored as he strained to keep up with Axel. Blood seeped from the rim of his lip, his gray eyes blazing with defiance but with fear also. Axel's jibes stung harder than his punches, each cut saying more than the last to send Cyrus deeper into despair.

From his superior height, Commander Rourke observed the duel, his coldly piercing eyes narrowing as he sized up the combatants. "He's unraveling," Rourke said, his voice low but interested. "Sage has him cornered."

Beside him, Victoria leaned negligibly, her face thoughtful. "But Cyrus doesn't appear to be the type of man to fall quietly," she said, her voice holding a soft edge.

Rourke smiled weakly, his eyes still fixed on Axel. "No, he does not. But Sage learned to play on that."

On the field, Ava reached the goal line, the blue flag held high as she collapsed to her knees, her chest thudding with exhaustion. Cheers erupted from the recruits on the side, their voices echoing in the arena with the shout of victory.

"We did it!" Ava exclaimed on a gasping breath, the grin on her face wide for all the effort it took.

Atlas held her close to keep her standing, the fatigue evident on his face but overpowered by pride. "Good job," he growled, his gruff voice genuine.

But the victory was far from complete. At the center of the battlefield, Axel and Cyrus stood locked in a tense standoff. Cyrus's movements were slower now, his body trembling under the strain of his ability. Axel, on the other hand, remained calm, his amber eyes glowing steadily as he prepared to deliver the final blow.

"You're done, Cyrus," Axel said, his voice quiet but firm.

Cyrus's fists clenched tightly, his defiance unwavering despite the pain etched across his face. "I'm not finished yet," he muttered, his voice low and dangerous.

Axel's sharp gaze narrowed, his body tensing as he prepared for whatever came next. The tension crackled between them like a live wire, the rest of the arena fading into the background as they prepared for the final clash.