The punch had rattled me more than I wanted to admit. My vision was still slightly doubled, jaw throbbing despite Pain Resistance working overtime.
Mark was circling again, that focused expression never wavering. Whatever act he'd been putting on before—the mania, the instability—it had been just that. An act. Bait to make me underestimate him.
And I'd fallen for it.
We clashed again, and I felt the difference immediately. He wasn't just switching combat styles anymore. He was reading my responses, adapting to my patterns, using his Job Switcher title to counter whatever approach I tried.
I went for a boxing combination—he switched to something defensive, absorbed the hits, countered with strikes that forced me back.
I tried grappling—he became a jiu-jitsu specialist, reversing my attempts and nearly getting me into a submission hold.
