The energy in the air shifted. The playful smirks, the excited murmurs—everything fell into a heavy silence.
Lucien Zhao's eyes gleamed with something darker now. "Ochieng, I must admit… you've surprised me."
Ochieng dusted his sleeves, his heartbeat steady despite the eerie shift. Dominic Wu, the Iron Wall, was still on his knees, clutching his shattered knee. The unshakable fortress had fallen.
But this next opponent…
This was different.
The doors at the far end of the hall creaked open, and a figure stepped in, moving like a whisper of death.
No cheers. No introductions.
Just a name that sent shivers down spines.
Aiden Xu.
Unlike the previous opponents, Aiden was not built like a tank or exuding raw power. He was lean, his frame almost unimposing. But his aura—his presence—was suffocating.
Ochieng's instincts screamed. This man is dangerous.
Aiden tilted his head slightly, his eyes sharp but his lips curled into a lazy smile. "So you're the one causing all this trouble."
Lucien chuckled from his throne. "Aiden, don't kill him too quickly. We need entertainment."
Ochieng cracked his knuckles. "Let's get this over with."
The room grew colder.
Then—Aiden disappeared.
Ochieng barely had time to react before a razor-sharp palm strike slashed across his chest. His instincts saved him from a deeper wound, but his shirt was sliced open, a thin line of red appearing on his skin.
Fast. Too fast.
The crowd gasped. No one had managed to land a hit on Ochieng so far.
Aiden smirked. "You're not bad. But you're not fast enough."
Ochieng exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. "Is that so?"
Aiden's grin widened. "Let's see how long you can last."
And then the real fight began.