From the center of the stage, Max looked across the gap and locked eyes with Aron. Even from several meters away, the state of his ally was obvious. Aron’s face was completely drenched in a thick layer of sweat, and his breathing was jagged and uneven. Max didn’t for a second imagine that this was simply because Aron had gone for a brisk run to get here; he knew his friend well enough to recognize the signs of someone who was barely holding onto their consciousness through a haze of absolute agony.
’Is he really going to ignore all of that?’ Max thought, a knot of guilt tightening in his chest. ’Is he actually going to force his body to move just to fight against Ramon in that condition? Because of his injury, that must be exactly what he meant when he said he could only give me a single minute.’
Max was deeply concerned, his mind racing as he wondered what had actually happened in the gym to leave the former Rank 1 fighter in such a state. But there was a small, cold comfort in Aron’s presence; if Aron had made it here, at least it meant the back line had held. It meant there were no more hidden enemies coming forward to sandwich him between the Gilt Rats and the Black Hounds.
Before Max could even open his mouth to protest or answer, Aron was already in motion. He didn’t wait for a plan or a signal. He rushed forward with a desperate, lunging speed that Max imagined was the official start of the sixty-second countdown.
Aron swung his baton from the side in a sharp, sparking arc. Ramon, encased in his whirring exoskeleton, reacted with mechanical precision. He lifted his arm, the hydraulics hissing as he dodged the strike by a hair’s breadth. Another baton strike whistled forward, aimed at the scientist’s throat, but just like before, Ramon was ready. He threw out a heavy, metallic fist to intercept the weapon.
The only thing was, Aron wasn’t fighting like a novice. He quickly pulled the baton back before the collision could occur, using the momentum to spin around Ramon’s flank. He repositioned his body in a blur, attempting to strike the suit from behind where the plating might be thinner.
Still, the exoskeleton provided Ramon with enhanced sensory feedback and speed. He reacted to the flanking maneuver by spinning into a powerful kick. Aron was only just able to jump back in time to avoid the strike. As he landed, Max saw him bite down on his lower lip so hard that a trickle of fresh blood ran down his chin. He was using the sharp pain of the bite to keep himself from blacking out.
’Aron’s given me this chance... I have to do something with it,’ Max thought, his mind working at a feverish pace. ’But what does he really mean by giving me a minute to "figure it out"? Does he expect me to just stand here and watch the two of them fight to find some hidden weakness in the suit?’
Max dismissed the idea as soon as it formed. ’No, that can’t be it. I’ve already fought against him directly. It’s not even like I can copy some moves from Ramon, because most of what he’s doing isn’t skill, it’s just the raw output coming from the exoskeleton.’
’Then is he saying the two of us should fight together? Is he waiting for me to jump in so we can take him out as a duo in that minute?’
Max thought that was unlikely as well. If that were the case, Aron would have suggested a pincer move or waited for a signal. Even Max knew that in their current states, himself bruised and Aron severely injured, the two of them wouldn’t be able to simply overpower the full suit through brute force alone. He continued to rack his brain, looking for the logic behind the sixty-second window.
’He isn’t thinking that in this minute I can magically recover. I was hurt, sure, but it wasn’t to the point where it impacted my performance that badly. My strength is mostly intact thanks to the boost.’
What weighed on Max more than the tactical disadvantage was his genuine worry for Aron. Although the man had been someone Max found rather annoying at the beginning of their journey, he had become one of the few people Max truly trusted. It was a strange relationship, especially since Aron still thought he was the "real" Max Stern, but the loyalty was undeniable. Aron had done everything in his power to ensure Max survived this night, even going so far as to transfer his own life savings to trigger the Vow’s boost.
As the fight continued, Aron became noticeably more cautious. He wasn’t looking for a finishing blow anymore; he was focused entirely on survival, avoiding Ramon’s heavy hits by the narrowest of margins. He needed to have his senses activated to the absolute maximum just to stay alive.
When a fist strike was aimed toward Aron’s head, he quickly parried it at the wrist to redirect the force, and he was forced to do the same with a low-aimed leg strike. He was constantly on the move, never staying in one spot for more than a second. As he moved, Aron was realizing the terrifying reality of the full-body exoskeleton.
Ramon wasn’t getting tired. Of course he wasn’t, the exoskeleton was doing nearly all of the heavy lifting, providing the kinetic energy for every punch and the stabilization for every step. For Ramon, the fight was almost effortless, allowing him to maintain a relentless, high-speed attack that would have exhausted any normal human.
’Can all I really do... is just give Max one minute?’ Aron thought, his vision beginning to swim. ’Can’t I do something else? Can’t I at least damage the suit? Maybe if I just break one of these actuators!’
Aron lunged in, slamming a baton against Ramon’s forearm with a shower of sparks, but nothing seemed to happen. Ramon simply ducked down and prepared a counter.
Performing riskier moves to compensate for his fading strength, Aron thrusted the baton forward. His reach was just long enough to hit Ramon square in the chest piece. The baton electrified on contact, sending a surge of high-voltage current into the suit. But all of the power seemed to be conducted safely through the chest plating; the energy was dispersed, and it didn’t seem to affect Ramon at all.
Time was ticking down, and Aron’s eyesight was starting to blur at the edges. He wasn’t even sure if he could make it to the full minute or not, but he had promised Max sixty seconds, and he was determined to deliver every single one of them.
’Is it because I’m moving so much while holding my breath against the pain? How much longer do I have to go... I’ve lost count...’
Right then, for a split second, Aron’s eyes closed involuntarily. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he thought for sure he was going to pass out right there on the stage. He knew it would only take a moment for Ramon to take advantage of the lapse.
When Aron finally forced his eyes back open, he expected to be lying in a pool of his own blood on the floor. But as his vision cleared, he realized he wasn’t alone. There was someone else standing right next to him, a steady hand supporting his weight.
"Thanks for giving me that minute, Aron," Max said, his voice calm and infused with a new, dangerous level of confidence as he held onto his friend. "That was really all I needed."