Steam hissed from ruptured vents, thick and scalding as it coiled through the air, obscuring everything in a veil of fog. The heat pressed down like a weight, heavy and stifling, and the acrid tang of charred black blood and burning metal clawed at the back of my throat.

Somewhere ahead, in the haze of light and shadow, they clashed. The hum of Harvey’s Arkamon Flux was growing louder, a deep, resonant thrumming that vibrated through the walls, the floor, and my chest. It drowned out even the screech of metal and the cracks of breaking concrete as their battle raged on.

Through the shifting steam, I could see them—just barely. Glimpses of copper light intertwined with crimson flashes and the jagged arcs of black and yellow lightning. My Echo Flux gave me fragmented impressions, fleeting images that painted a picture of pure chaos.

And yet, there was a difference.

The vampire fought with rage. Every strike he threw, every movement he made, was driven by primal instinct and raw, unrelenting power. His crimson aura pulsed with unrestrained malice, a force that threatened to consume everything in its path.

Harvey, though… Harvey fought with will.

His Arkamon Flux wasn’t just a weapon—it was an extension of himself, a manifestation of his refusal to yield. Every step he took, every strike he landed, was deliberate, calculated. He fought like a storm given form—a controlled chaos that burned as brightly as the copper light surrounding him. Where the vampire raged, Harvey endured, his movements imbued with purpose, his resolve as steady as the earth beneath his feet.

Even in the fog, even through the overwhelming noise and heat, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

But then the vampire shifted.

I saw it in the way he moved, the sudden shift in rhythm that sent a ripple of tension through the air. His strikes, once erratic and wild, became sharper, more precise. He closed the distance, stepping inside Harvey’s reach, and the nature of the fight changed.

It was brutal to watch. The vampire’s new strategy was one of the riskiest, the most off-rhythm boxing style I’d ever seen—a pressure-fighting approach that turned combat into a suffocating grind. He moved like an in-fighter, closing the gap to fight in a space so tight it felt like they were trapped inside a phone booth.

Inside that space, Harvey’s height and reach advantage meant nothing.

The vampire’s fists flew in rapid succession, aiming for Harvey’s body with a volume of punches that was staggering. Each strike was perfectly timed, each movement designed to press Harvey further onto the defensive. He ducked and weaved through counterstrikes, his head movement so sharp and precise it seemed impossible. His claws carved the air with ruthless efficiency, targeting Harvey’s core, his ribs, his stomach—all the places where his Flux shield was thinnest.

And yet Harvey didn’t falter.

The force of the vampire’s punches against Harvey’s Flux shield was astonishing—20,000 psi, Sia had said, enough to crack concrete. Each impact sent rippling EMP waves through the room, frying the remaining machinery and sending sparks skittering across the floor.

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The sound was deafening, a relentless cacophony that made my ears ring and my head throb. Even with the steam absorbing some of the sound waves, it was above 140 decibels, loud enough to make Sia clutch her temples in agony.

“He’s changing his approach,” Sia said, her voice tight with strain. Her hands pressed against her head, her face pale. “This isn’t his usual style—he’s a slugger, but now… now he’s swarming. He’s trying to overwhelm Harvey with sheer volume, but he can’t get inside his reach. He’s going berserk, Kyon.”

I could hear it in her voice—the urgency, the fear. “This is a high-risk style, even for him. If we don’t leave now, this place is going to collapse. He’ll tear it apart before he stops.”

I wanted to listen. I knew she was right, knew we couldn’t stay here much longer. The room was falling apart around us—pipes bursting, steam filling the air, cracks spidering through the walls and floor. But I couldn’t leave.

Not yet.

Through the haze, I could see the vampire’s knuckles—a ruin of charred and cracked flesh, his claws bent and broken from the relentless assault against Harvey’s shield. His own strikes were destroying him, the Flux burning his fists with every impact. And yet he didn’t stop.

The sheer noise and heat made it hard to focus, but I could feel the difference. The vampire fought like a predator pushed to the edge, his movements fueled by desperation and survival instinct. Harvey, though… Harvey remained calm.

The copper glow of his Flux burned brighter with every passing second, a steady, unyielding presence in the chaos. Even as the vampire’s pressure fighting intensified, even as his punches hammered against his shield with the force of a jackhammer, Harvey stood his ground.

For every punch the vampire landed, Harvey countered with precision. His Flux-coated fists snapped out in strikes that sent arcs of energy dancing across the vampire’s form. Each hit sizzled and burned, the scent of charred flesh thick in the air.

And then, for the first time, the vampire connected.

A raking strike across Harvey’s arm sent sparks flying, a sound like screeching metal cutting through the noise. Harvey growled, his expression tightening, but he didn’t retreat. If anything, he pressed forward, his Flux surging in response.

Sia’s voice cut through the din, her tone sharper now. “This isn’t sustainable for either of them, Kyon. Harvey’s shield is holding, but not indefinitely. And that vampire—he’s running out of time. His body can’t handle this kind of punishment. If he keeps this up, he’ll burn himself out, but not before he takes this place down with him.”

I could see it, too. The vampire’s movements were growing more erratic, his strikes losing their precision. His frenzy, his desperation, was becoming his undoing.

But Harvey… Harvey was unshaken.

As the vampire lunged again, claws poised for a killing strike, Harvey stepped into the attack. His copper light flared, and his Flux-coated fist drove forward in a devastating counterstrike. The impact was blinding, a burst of light and sound that sent the vampire hurtling across the room.

He crashed into the far wall, the force of the blow shattering pipes and machinery, sending steam and sparks cascading into the air. But even then, he clawed his way out of the wreckage, his body a mess of burns and broken bones.

“This isn’t over,” the vampire hissed, his voice rasping with hatred.

Harvey didn’t flinch. His copper glow flickered, then steadied as he raised his fists. “You’re right,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “It’s not.”

And then they clashed again.

Their movements were a blur now, too fast for my Echo Flux to follow. The coppery light of Harvey’s Flux and the crimson glow of the vampire’s aura swirled together in a storm of energy. Each strike sent shockwaves through the room, the ground cracking beneath their feet.

It wasn’t just a fight anymore. It was a war of wills.

The vampire fought like a cornered beast, his every movement a desperate bid for survival. But Harvey… Harvey fought with purpose. His Flux wasn’t just a weapon—it was an expression of his spirit, of his refusal to give up.

And as their battle raged on, I realized something.

This wasn’t about strength or speed.

It was about endurance. About who could hold on the longest.

The room groaned under the strain, the walls and ceiling trembling with every blow. Sia grabbed my arm, her voice urgent. “Kyon, we have to go. Now!