Part- 352:
Jiko smmed onto the mat, the sound eg through the arena. The audience gasped. The referee blew the whistle, signaling a point for Sourov.
Sourov crouched low, breathing hard, his gaze locked onto Jiko. But there was no relief in his expression—just the bzing focus of someone who had entered a pce far beyond reasoated his shoulders, preparing for the exge. The crowd roared, but Sourov didn’t hear it.
---
On the sidelines, James ched his fists. He khis was only the beginning. **Crazy Mode** wasn’t sustaihe longer Sourov stayed in this state, the worse the sequences would be. His system pinged another warning:
**System Alert:** **Warning: Physical Fatigue Accelerating. Prolonged use of Crazy Mode will lead to injury.**
But James knew Sourov wasn’t the type to back down—especially not now.
---
Ba the mat, Jiko got to his feet, rubbing his shoulder. A slow, dangerous grin spread across his face. “That’s more like it.”
The two fighters circled each other, their eyes locked in a fierce gaze. Jiko’s movements were now more cautious, respeg Sourov’s uable rhythm. Yet, he maintained a fident demeanor. After all, he had the advantage of greater strength and endurance, and he was well aware that Sourov’s sudden adrenaline rush wouldn’t st long.
Jiko unched fain, going low to trap Sourov’s legs. But Sourov spun out of the way with terrifying speed, his reflexes sharper than ever. In one fluid motion, he shifted his stand went for ahrow.
This time, Jiko blocked it mid-movement, pnting his feet firmly o. They struggled, locked in a deadly grip, muscles straining as each tried to overpower the other. Sweat dripped from their faces as the crowd roared louder with every sed of the intense exge.
---
**A Dangerous Gamble.**
Sourov knew he couldn’t keep this up. His limbs were burning, and his heart pounded painfully in his chest. But he didn’t care. His mind was clear—free of fear, free of doubt. The only thing that mattered was **this moment**.
He shifted his grip subtly, feeling the tension in Jiko’s stance. **Now.**
With a surge of strength, Sourov pivoted on his good leg, pulling Jiko forward into a trap. For a split sed, Jiko lost his band that was all Sourov needed.
**BAM!**
Sourov smmed Jiko onto the mat once again, earning another point. The crowd erupted into cheers, but Sourov didn’t celebrate. He stayed crouched, breathing heavily, sweat dripping from his .
Jiko grinned, wiping blood from the er of his mouth. “You’ve got guts. I like that.”
---
**But the fight was far from over.**
Jiko got up again, his expression no longer cocky but determined. Sourov’s vision blurred slightly, and he swayed on his feet. His mind screamed at him to stop, to rest—but he ig.
This was the gamble of Crazy Mode: It gave him everything he had, but the clock was tig.
---
James could feel it too—the fight was reag its breaking point. Both fighters were at their limits, but her of them showed any sign of bag down.
“Stay strong, Sourov,” James whispered, watg anxiously. “Just a little longer…”
The exge would decide everything.
With newfound iy, Sourov’s movements became sharp and uable. His injured knee no longer seemed to hinder him as he fought with reckless abandon.
