He heard footsteps approaching. He turned to see a man in a dark, tight-fitting suit. His opponent. The man was shorter than Jack but had a confident, calculated look in his eyes. He exuded control. This wasn't going to be a brawler like the others. This man was known for his technical skill, a master of precise, swift strikes that could disable a fighter in mere seconds.
"Jack Hayes," the technician said, his voice smooth and calm. "I've been watching you. You're strong, but you won't last long against my style. I don't fight with power—I fight with precision."
Jack didn't respond right away. His thoughts were still on Lena. He couldn't afford to get distracted now. The man's words didn't scare him; if anything, they made him more determined.
The technician cracked his knuckles and nodded toward the arena door. "Shall we begin?"
