The abandoned factory was shrouded in darkness. The dim moonlight filtered through the broken windows, illuminating the peeling walls and dust-covered concrete floor. Max was barely standing, leaning on one leg. Every movement was painful, and the air smelled of metal and ash.

He raised his head, breathing heavily. His opponent stood before him, unperturbed, almost indifferent. Max clenched his teeth.

"You think that's it?" he croaked, leaning his hand on his hip to keep his balance. "I'm not done yet."

Max lunged forward, putting everything he had left into this blow. But his opponent met it with frightening ease. One sharp blow to the chest, and Max fell to his knees, almost losing consciousness. "Damn..." he wheezed, trying to breathe, but pain encircled his body, forcing him to bend.

Max gathered all his strength to raise his head. His gaze darted between his opponent's face and the darkness around him.

"Why aren't you finishing?" he whispered, clenching his fist.

His opponent didn't answer. He just stood there, as if enjoying the spectacle. Max felt rage mixed with helplessness.

"Say something already," he squeezed out, feeling the words grow heavy on his tongue.