The sound of Raksa's ragged breathing was the only thing breaking the silence in the arena. The fight seemed over. He was on the ground, Niran standing tall, the crowd still holding its breath, waiting for an official declaration. But the gong had not yet sounded.
Raksa moved an arm. Then another. His massive body trembled as he pushed himself to his knees. A low, animalistic growl escaped his throat. The audience collectively inhaled.
"He can't be…" someone murmured.
But Niran knew. The Leeches were different. They didn't just fight with muscle and instinct. Their bodies were manipulated, enhanced by a parasite that numbed pain and allowed them to push beyond human limits. That thing inside Raksa was still forcing him forward, even as his body approached collapse.
The man staggered, his bloodshot eyes locked onto Niran. Then he charged.
One last, desperate attack.
Niran didn't move. He waited. Observed.
The unsteady steps. The slight dip of his left shoulder. The fist rising too high, too slow.
A perfect opening.
Niran stepped forward, raising his elbow. In that instant, his body became a sharpened blade.
CRACK.
Raksa's head snapped back, a dull sound echoing in the arena, followed by the heavy thud of his body hitting the floor never to rise again.
Silence.
Then, the gong finally rang, declaring the fight officially over.
Blood washed away under the freezing water. Niran watched his reflection in the small mirror above the sink. Dark eyes, an unreadable expression, drops of red mixing with the clear stream.
He had won. But he felt no different.
He dried his face with a rough towel, threw on his shirt, and left the locker room without a word.
Suda was waiting for him just outside, leaning against the wall, an unlit cigarette between her lips, a smug smile on her face.
"Nice work," she said, tossing him an envelope of cash.
Niran caught it, opened it, and counted quickly. It seemed in order.
"Someone placed a lot of last-minute bets on you. You're starting to make a name for yourself," she added.
He stuffed the money into his jacket. "I don't care about fame."
Suda chuckled. "Then what do you care about?"
Niran didn't answer.
He had barely stepped out of the underground fight club when two men blocked his path. Dressed in black, tall, muscular. The Leeches' tattoo marked their necks.
One of them grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. "You made a mess."
Niran remained still, expressionless.
"He was one of us," the other continued, his stare unwavering. "Don't think this ends here."
"You seeking revenge?" Niran asked, voice flat.
The two exchanged a glance. "Just a warning," the first one said. "You have no idea whose toes you stepped on."
Niran nodded slowly. Then, he took a step forward, invading their space.
"If you need another fighter, step up," he said calmly. "Otherwise, get out of my way."
For a moment, neither man moved. Then they exchanged another glance, muttered something, and disappeared into the night.
Niran stood there for a few seconds before turning back inside.
"Set me up with another fight," he said to Suda.
She studied him for a moment, then laughed. "You're insane. They just threatened you, and you already want to fight again?"
Niran didn't respond.
"Fine," she said, finally lighting her cigarette. "Three days. I'll find you someone interesting."
She picked up a file from a stack behind her and handed it over.
"Yoru," she said. "They call him 'The Iron Beast'."
Niran quickly scanned the document. A fighter known for his brutal style and unnaturally resilient body. A mysterious past and a trail of broken opponents.
"Perfect," Niran said, handing the paper back.
Suda shook her head, smirking. "You're a goddamn kamikaze."
The streets were quieter than usual. Maybe it was just paranoia, but Niran could still feel unseen eyes lingering on him.
He ignored the feeling and kept walking.
When he arrived at the dojo, he noticed a familiar shape curled up by the entrance.
Kao.
The small monkey was sleeping, its tiny body rising and falling with steady breaths, as if it had waited there the entire night for him to return.
Niran crouched down, gently scooping him up. Kao stirred slightly, blinking up at him with drowsy eyes, then nestled into his chest.
Without a word, Niran pushed open the dojo door and stepped inside, carrying his tiny companion to bed.