The rebar bent, snapped, and Jin let it fall without ceremony, hand already closing around the next piece of wreckage scattered across the ruined street.
Time had bled by in exchanges like that, one improvised weapon after another, and Daeho had grown with every one of them, steam rolling harder off his shoulders now, veins standing out dark and thick along arms that had swelled well past anything human proportions should allow. But something had started to shift in the last few exchanges, subtle at first, then unmistakable.
His breathing had roughened. Sweat cut through the grime on his face despite everything else about him screaming raw, endless power. His swings, still devastating, had started landing a fraction slower than before, a fraction less precise.
"He's tiring out," Echo said, low, ducking a wide hook and answering with a restrained pulse to Daeho's knee.
"Barely," Jin said, catching a follow-up blow on a chunk of guardrail that cracked clean in half from the impact.
