A few drops of blood flew from the spike as Сinar’s fist went for another swing. My left hand was still pressed against his chest. I didn’t even realise how I’d activated the Monkey and pushed him away.The spike had only grazed my armour, but the Monkey recoil was enough that I barely managed to stay on my feet.Bloody nausea! Bloody spinning world!Сinar had done his homework, too. He’d watched my fights. He’d figured out how I worked. And he’d found my weak side. Literally – my side!And those spikes… Yes, there were two of them, one jutting from each fist. They weren’t separate weapons; they were part of the gauntlets. Built-in, hidden, invisible until the last possible second. I couldn’t disarm him, couldn’t toss them out of the arena.Clever move!But I hadn’t lost yet! I still had three, maybe four rounds left!My thoughts were a mess. The damned nausea made it impossible to think straight. My leg trembled with pain like an autumn leaf.I shoved strategy aside, focusing only on tactics and this specific moment. I clenched my teeth and forced a command through to the armour to inject whatever was left: painkillers and a standard stim.In response — a quick sting in my side, a dull ache in my heart, and for a few seconds, the world snapped back into clarity.The weakness didn’t vanish. It just slipped into the shadows. And it came back in waves. Between those waves, I had to somehow fend off Сinar’s attacks.My opponent began swinging his fists, and I let the first few hits land. The formations saved me. The spikes skidded across the defence, unable to pierce it fully.Сinar realised he needed physical contact to neutralise the defence and grabbed my right wrist while I stood there like a salt statue. With his right hand, he aimed again at my poor left side.That snapped me out of it.I kicked his left shin. No technique, just a plain kick – but hard enough to make (...)