Quest's fist hovered in the air for a moment, his gaze sharp and unyielding as he looked down at Garrett. There was no pity, no hesitation—only the cold resolve of someone who had long since learned that mercy was a weakness.
But Garrett wasn't finished yet. Just as Quest's fist started to descend, Garrett gritted his teeth and twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding the blow. Quest's fist struck the ground, sending another crack through the concrete, but he was already shifting, his movements fluid as he readied for Garrett's next attempt at escape.
Quest took a step back, watching as Garrett scrambled to his feet, the pain evident in his face but the fire of determination still burning in his eyes.
"Not bad," Quest said with a slight smirk, his voice a calm, chilling monotone. "Most don't last this long."
Garrett didn't reply; he was too focused on staying alive. He adjusted his stance, trying to anticipate Quest's next move, but before he could make a plan, Quest surged forward, his movements like shadows slipping through cracks.
Quest unleashed a barrage of punches, each one aimed with ruthless precision. Garrett did his best to dodge, feeling the air shift around him with every near-miss. But Quest was relentless, each strike coming faster, more controlled, like he was testing Garrett's limits, pushing him to the edge.
Just as Garrett thought he saw an opening, Quest shifted, slipping to his blind spot and driving a knee into Garrett's side. The force sent Garrett staggering, but he kept his footing, fighting to stay upright. Before he could recover, Quest delivered a swift backhand, the blow ringing in Garrett's ears as he stumbled back, vision blurring.
For a moment, everything seemed to slow down, Garrett's mind racing as he realized just how outmatched he was. Quest's face remained impassive, but his eyes held a flicker of something—almost a hint of satisfaction, like he was finally getting a challenge.
"You're still here," Quest said, his voice low, almost amused. "Good. I'd hate for this to end too quickly."
Garrett knew he was running out of options. With a surge of adrenaline, he threw a punch, putting everything he had into it. But Quest sidestepped it easily, twisting his body and delivering a punch of his own that struck Garrett in the chest like a freight train.
Garrett was lifted off his feet, the force sending him crashing into a nearby wall. He slid down, barely able to move, his body screaming in pain. Quest walked over calmly, each step measured, as if he were merely strolling through a park rather than closing in on his opponent.
Quest crouched down, his eyes level with Garrett's, cold and unreadable. He placed a hand on Garrett's shoulder, his grip firm, and for a moment, Garrett thought this was it.
"You've got guts, I'll give you that," Quest murmured. There was a hint of respect in his tone, but it was overshadowed by his unyielding resolve. "But guts don't mean much when you're outclassed."
With that, Quest released his grip and stood up, taking a step back, his gaze unwavering. It was almost as if he was giving Garrett one final chance—a chance to prove himself, to show he was more than just another target.
Garrett took a shaky breath, pushing himself to his feet despite the agony coursing through him. Quest watched him, the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"You're resilient," Quest said. "I'll give you that. But let's see if it's enough."
The fight wasn't over—not yet. Quest had tested Garrett, and now, he would see if there was anything left in his opponent that was worthy of his time.