My limbs ached like hell, and my muscles were torn badly from overexertion. Blood streamed down different parts of my body, and my regeneration had slowed down. The battle had taken a heavy toll on me, and my body was unwilling to listen to my commands.
Even the dark fumes pouring out of my body had reduced drastically. This body was at its limit, and my time in [Berserk] mode was nearing its end.
It was clear—I couldn't continue this fight.
But it was a different case for the orc berserker. While the green fumes had died down considerably, it was clear he still had some juice left to squabble.
But I knew—continuing this fight was a death sentence.
And it pissed me off.
It simply meant I couldn't actually win against this orc in free and fair combat. Even with all the growth I had achieved so far, I still couldn't compare to this orc berserker.
Once again, I had tasted defeat in this world—and it's crazy that it happened just two days after losing to Dayvon.
It hurt.
