"You really think it's over, Jack?" The voice was sharp, cutting through the heavy silence of the arena like a blade.
Jack stood in the center of the ring, his breathing labored, sweat dripping from his forehead. He turned toward the voice, his fists tightening. "Who's there? Show yourself!" His tone carried exhaustion, but his defiance was unbroken.
The crowd murmured in hushed tones as a figure emerged from the shadows. "I've been watching you," the voice said again, steady and cold. "Every punch, every struggle, every ounce of pain. And I have to say, I'm impressed."
"You think I care about what impresses you?" Jack shot back, his eyes scanning for the source.
A man in a black mask stepped into view, his footsteps slow and deliberate. "Oh, you'll care, Jack. Because this isn't just any fight. This is your final fight." He stopped just outside the ring, gesturing to the referee. "Step aside. This one is personal."
