The Crocodile didn't fall.

Isaac Military Industry's balance regulator was still functioning.

Even though he lost consciousness, the posture adjustment program from Isaac Military Industry was still helping the boxer maintain dignity.

But all of this was meaningless now.

Kenichi Sora's attack wasn't over.

He landed smoothly and quickly bounced back up.

The Silencer from the Raqi Group was used to the extreme. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Shock absorption, flexibility, balance, and instant bursts all surpassed experimental values within a few minutes.

Sora's right foot lifted and fell, precisely hitting the exposed neck of the staggering Crocodile.

The Crocodile was completely unbalanced.

His spine was hit forward, nosebone touching the ground, and his chaotic limbs led his huge body to crash down.

The audience's mouths were dry enough to string saliva.

The forefront railing and walls on either side of the passage were being slammed by fanatics, making a pounding noise.

Consecutive hits unbalance, high-raise leg battle axe.

These were Crocodile Reigen's execution moves, combining strength and flexibility, requiring very high demands on a boxer's prosthetic body.

Even in Isaac Military Industry's promotional plans, only their [Fourth Generation Synchro Joints] could perform this counter-touching kill move, whereas John, using the market's third-generation product, an unmodified [Silencer], perfectly replicated it.

Cheers rose all around.

Sora was engulfed in the waves of sound, standing in the spotlight and rising steam, waving his arms, enjoying the real world.

The bell signaling the end of the third round rang.

Columns of dense smoke spurted up to the dome from the perimeter of the railings.

In the contestants' rest room.

Gino was trembling with fear.

As a boxing gym assistant coach, she knew the champion seeds were company-created monsters, let alone the opponent being Reagan Patrick, countless rookies had been crippled by him.

Various brutal ending scenes flashed through her mind.

She feared the next second John would be caught and killed on stage.

Only when the giant beast fell did Gino scream, hugging her brother beside her.

Macao stared at the screen.

He looked like he'd seen a ghost.

Unlike gamblers who only knew about odds and bloodshed, he was a professional boxing coach, aware of the ways of the arena—the breathtaking exchanges and how demanding they were on time and technique.

Macao widened his eyes and exhaled deeply.

"Is this really John?"

[Knocking down someone] is a two-fold term.

In Macao's circle, it referred to scenarios where the strength difference between contestants was overwhelming or their prosthetic bodies were of such different grades they couldn't resist.

Another scenario is:

Two boxers of equivalent strength, one utilizing techniques to exploit exhaustion and breath switch nodes, continuously seizing flaws, making the opponent unable to regain rhythm, unable even to breathe evenly.

John clearly belonged to the latter.

Fantastically terrifying, everyone knew—John's prosthetic body was unstructured, yet an amateur had forcibly knocked down the champion seed.

Battle of fame.

Company contracts.

Brand endorsements.

Macao couldn't help but think of all the honors and wealth a boxer could achieve.

Beep—

Dozens of messages flooded his inbox instantly.

Middlemen, black market vendors crammed into the West District underground, basically everyone from all walks of life showed up.

They smelled what's happening and found Macao.

John's network was probably flipped through entirely; one could imagine—many more eyes were invisibly fixed on him.

This is the Central Arena.

Eden City's program with the highest ratings and subscription amounts, not to mention other broadcast channels.

Macao suddenly thought of something.

He waved his hand to shield his inbox, opening the account backend.

John's left "inheritance" was entirely invested.

That brief digit, now significantly lengthened.

Macao couldn't help but wonder—what if John actually killed Reigen?

He took a deep breath.

Suddenly.

Red light erupted on the screen.

A burst of manic music roared throughout the Bolago Club.

The atmosphere smoke dissipated.

The electrified fence did not open after the round ended.

Sora sharply turned around, noticing two small muscles on Reigen's back receding inward.

Two lines of formula emerged at the edge of his view.

He instantly calculated—the Crocodile's metal Sianweistan had embedded emergency drugs, probably forbidden substances, hidden in the prosthetic body's slow-release liquid to pass inspection.

Alarms reverberated above the arena.

Ka, ka ka—

Accompanied by immense mechanical noises.

The mid-section dome of the Bolago Club opened, the largest holographic projection in the West District night sky descended along the building, over a thousand devices executed simultaneously in real-time.

The audience could even sense a thrill akin to crawling beneath grass, escaping through the fingers of giant beasts.

Sora withdrew his gaze, staring at the Crocodile.

"See, they tighten the leash and spurn your life altogether."

Bone Shards had explained the rules to John before taking the stage.

He obviously hadn't remembered them, but Kenichi Sora intuitively responded—this was a small rule of the Central Arena, the side with higher points has the privilege to cancel the halftime break.

The Crocodile had lost consciousness.

Clearly, Isaac Military Industry's management noticed John's reversal only emerged after halftime, wanting to utilize drugs, intending to kill John in the prosthetic body's unlocked third round.

"Cough, vomit—"

The Crocodile convulsed several times, spewing black-red liquid.

[Prosthetic Body Authorization/Default, Protocol HUS687...]

The arena notifications flashed before Kenichi Sora.

His Sianweistan and Mantis Blade were fully unlocked.

The same went for the Crocodile.

Advanced drugs permeated along the alloy spine, causing industrial veins all over his body to swell, skin heated and reddening, like a smoking semi-cooked steak.

[Countdown: 32s]

Sora glanced at the time.

Cancelling round rest only allowed for a minute's waiting time.

Bang!

The Crocodile revived.

"Ah—Roar—Huff, huff~"

He punched the ground, seemingly enduring immense agony.

Bang! Bang!

The pounding grew increasingly heavier.

Sora raised his hands, displaying curiosity.

He retreated while lowering his body to observe:

The dissipators on both sides of the Crocodile's ribs unfolded.

They had departed from faux-leather aesthetics, resembling air vents on machines, expelling white smoke, along the metal edges some air-dried traces of blood remained.

Bang!

The Crocodile hammered the ground once again.

The soft metal floor, with its supporting structure trembled.

"Hiss, damn, what did they stuff into your hands?"

Sora crouched completely down.

Staring wide-eyed, facing the resurrecting horror without fear, even harboring a tiny anticipation.

The skin along the Crocodile's arms turned black, smoked, emitted cobalt-blue currents, and then two alloy broken blades pierced through curled, scorched faux leather, launching out!

He fully stood up, eye cavities filled with redness.

The Crocodile took up a combat stance.

Around his arms were electrified steel blades, which not only defended but increased the punching lethality, with extended parts enhancing his attack range.

Just a touch…

Electric shock, skin split and crack, bones chopped off…

"Wow~"

Sora comprehended the designer's thought process.

"Can you still hear me speak?"

He tried communicating.

The Crocodile's eye sockets were left with only madness, responding with beast-like fierce collisions.

Electromagnetic short blades scraped against Sora's body, slicing half-knuckle deep nicks on alloy barriers, sparking currents winding over his entire being, yet never slowing this monster's movements a bit.

Sora continued dodging, only when terribly strained did his Mantis Blade flick sideways.

He stopped talking wittily.

Because the Crocodile couldn't hear anymore.

Occasionally electric arcs, brushing past, landed on Sora's skin, causing little itchiness; the alloy skeleton had insulating designs, but embedded slots and small connection pieces still had slight tingles.

From a spectator's viewpoint:

John and Reigen were clashing in evaporating sweat, sparks flying alongside terrifying collisions.

However, in Sora's eyes.

Everything appeared adept, able to hold out to this extent solely because he hadn't mentally prepared himself yet.