Mark and the Armor brawled on the floor like two mindless animals for a long time. Gauging out eyes, tearing at each other's faces, and trying whatever was possible to end one another. Mark couldn't hurt his enemy in the physical brawl, but his Parasite demonic trick's vines grew all over it, slowly possessing it.
But moving skillfully, the Armor locked Mark in his position and punched at his genitals, about to end it all.
Mark's heart thumped, and he finally decided it was time to stop the time.
Clown's Circus!
Would the Armor's greaves give it resistance to Clown's Circus, too? Or will he finally get some free time to battle it on his own terms?
The flying dust stopped in the atmosphere, the splattering of blood did the same. In a thousand meters surrounding Mark, all things came to an abrupt halt—time stopped moving.
A person MUST dream, and they must live, not survive.