The fight announcer limped back to the center of the ring, his eyes gleaming with untamed excitement.
The arena itself seemed to thirst for the fight, its dark, weather-worn stones absorbing the electric atmosphere like a sponge.
The weight of countless duels hung heavy in the air, a silent witness to the combatants locked in their mortal dance.
"Alright, you bunch of lowlifes, hold onto your daggers and charms, because what's coming next is gonna blow your corrupted minds!"
The crowd hushed for a moment, a collective intake of breath as the doors on either side of the arena creaked open.
From one end of the caged arena emerged a figure that immediately caught the audience's eye.
The spotlight glared down, highlighting a mountain of a man.
Bronze skin, a spiky mohawk, and three gleaming nose rings that caught the light just so.
His bare chest was a canvas of scars and tribal tattoos, and he wore nothing but a pair of ripped denim jeans.
"Feast your eyes on this mass of malevolence! From the depths of the Wasteland, Tier 1 Villain, the one and only—KRAKUS!"
The crowd erupted.
"ROARRRRR!!!*
Deafening roars and howls filled the arena as Krakus flexed his muscles, playing to the crowd's excitement.
It was as if the ground trembled beneath his feet.
"And now—oh-ho-ho, you're not ready for this,"
The announcer's voice took on a sly tone, leaning into the microphone with a grin that spoke volumes.
"Undefeated in the Pre-Villain League, the prodigy who's making all your mamas wish they'd given birth to something half as rotten—Darkspire's next fighting phenom—[5]!"
Another door of the caged arena opened, and from the shadows emerged the figure known only as [5].
As the door creaked open, Daseos took a deep breath, his thoughts racing to his family.
They were the reason he stood here; their memory fortified his resolve.
The air in the arena had a gritty taste, tinged with the residual dark magic that seeped into the very soil of Antagonia.
Daseos could sense it fueling his desire to dominate, to rise, to defeat.
He stepped into the spotlight, not just as [5], but as a symbol of vengeance and unyielding will — This was his first step to exacting his revenge.
"This is the first match our Darkspire UFC has had where a non-villain is taking on a full fledged villain!!!"
"This is a match to the death! To make things interesting, our [5] will be armed with a blade and Krakus will be barehanded!"
The audience leaned in, unable to contain their curiosity.
Who was this non-villain contender daring to share the arena with an actual villain?
As Daseos and Krakus faced off, the camera drones whizzed overhead, capturing every angle.
The screens hanging over the crowd displayed close-ups of their faces, sweat and determination evident.
The audience held collective breaths, and even the vendors hawking 'Last-Minute Death Bets' had paused to watch.
This was the moment that would be etched into the history of Antagonia's fight culture.
Everyone—from the lowliest scoundrels to the VIPs sitting in their private rooms—knew they were about to witness something unforgettable.
The announcer cleared his throat one last time,
"Enough chatter! Let's spill some blood!!!"
*DING~!!!* *DING~!!!* *DING~!!!*
With that, the bell rang, and the fight that everyone had been waiting for was finally underway.
Krakus smirked, leisurely circling Daseos as if he were a predator toying with his prey.
"You should feel honored, kid,"
He sneered.
"Not many normies get the privilege to be pulverized by an actual Villain"
He then let out a mocking laughter.
"Hahaha!! You must've lost your mind! The gap between a villain and trash like you is unbreachable!"
Daseos looked at him, unfazed.
"Heh… pretty ironic the word 'trash' is coming from someone who's stuck in Tier 1."
Krakus snarled.
"FUCK YOU!"
With an explosive burst, he leapt into the air, his muscles bunching like coiled springs.
His fist, large and threatening, spiraled down toward Daseos with a force that could shatter stone.
Daseos was caught off guard by Krakus's speed but managed to react just in time.
His eyes widened in a flash—what the hell, he's faster than I thought—before his combat-honed instincts kicked into high gear.
In a desperate move, Daseos brandished the blade in his hand, angling it upward with deadly precision.
He aimed to counter the falling anvil that was Krakus's massive fist.
*CLAAAANG!!!*
As Daseos parried the crushing blow, a wave of gasps rolled through the crowd.
"He blocked it? A blow from an actual Villain?!"
Someone exclaimed, the tone more of disbelief than admiration.
"He's got moves; I'll give him that," another voice chimed in.
The punch that landed reverberated through the arena, the crowd's roars rising and falling like a tempestuous sea.
The scent of sweat, blood, and burnt ozone filled the air, a heady mixture that signified one thing in Antagonia—a battle for status.
For a split second, Daseos felt a surge of triumph.
'That had to hurt,'
Daseos thought.
But as the blade met Krakus's skin, his confidence shattered.
The blade didn't penetrate.
Not even a scratch appeared on Krakus's bronze, metallic-like skin.
It was as if he'd just tried to stab a wall of solid iron.
Shock ran through Daseos, a chill of realization.
He couldn't get through.
His blade, a weapon that had felled many, was rendered useless against Krakus's Tier 1 skin.
'Dammit! It's useless! I can't slice through! I can't afford to lose here!'
Daseos felt the impact reverberate viciously up his arm, numbing his muscles as if he'd struck solid rock.
Daseos quickly struck again but as his blade met Krakus's skin for a second time, a harsh, grating sound echoed.
The blade vibrated violently in his hand as if trying to free itself from the impossible task.
Daseos's eyes widened in disbelief, his fingers tingling from the aftershock.
"Woaaahh~"
The crowd gasped; Krakus's skin was not just tough—it was unyielding, an impenetrable barrier that demeaned every weapon it met.
An undercurrent of murmurs swept the rowdy crowd, more and more Antagonians started placing bets on Krakus.
*BOOOOOMMMMM!!!*
Krakus struck again, this time the sheer force of Krakus's undeterred punch propelled Daseos backward like a ragdoll in a windstorm.
He skidded uncontrollably across the arena floor, his boots scraping against the ground, until his back collided with the cage wall.
*CLAAAANGGGG!!*
As their eyes locked for a fleeting moment, Daseos couldn't help but see past Krakus, past the crowd and the arena, to the much larger battle that loomed on his horizon.
'This is just the beginning,' he thought. 'I have far greater villains to topple.