The state of Simyon's body out in the arena was a fraction of its former self. Cuts had developed all throughout his clothes apart from the gloves that he wore.
Blood had soaked his uniform, part of it drying up. Now as he stood there, one couldn't even tell if his eyes were open or not, as the skin around them had swollen up.
Yet despite all of this, he was still standing, and even Mantis's clawed hands, the equipment that was made of metal, the edges had gone blunt with a couple of them breaking.
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