That's iron, Jelo told himself.
He used Wing Burst to relocate — burning another burst, feeling his calves ache on the landing, a specific heaviness settling behind his eyes. He was spending resources. The returns weren't good enough.
He watched Iron Fist track him slowly across the space — a full iron body rotating with the patience of something geological — and felt the shape of the fight harden into something uncomfortable.
He's going to run out of time before Iron Fist runs out of iron.
He pushed the thought down.
Iron Fist shed the full-body iron when he got close — let it recede from his legs and torso, keeping it only on his arms. Faster now. Still devastating, but moving again.
He came in low, grabbed Jelo's lead arm and pulled — ugly, effective, closing every inch of remaining distance and making Wing Burst impossible without going through him first.
