Kyle now left the underground den, walking alone as he passed through the streets of Coalspire. At times, he could see some folks passing by, other times he was left with just the streetlights of Coalspire. As he went along, Kyle reached the gates and passed the guards before heading home.
Entering Raccoon Ridge, Kyle was deep in thought, still replaying the last fight in his head — the precision with which the slim man struck the hefty opponent.
"This is not going to be as easy as I thought," Kyle said.
Entering his apartment, he went to the center and took out a knife. Using it, he pried up one of the floor planks. After pulling out the plank, he reached into the floor and pulled out a box. Opening it, Kyle revealed wads of cash.
Sitting down to count it all, he noticed that he had saved about 500 Suburbian dollars. This money could be used and accepted in any suburb — whether Raccoon Ridge, Coalspire, or elsewhere.
"This should be enough to get me registered in the tournament and also help me make some money," Kyle said. Closing the box, he lay back on the bed, looking upward, and that's how he slept that night.
The next morning, Kyle got up and started exercising — doing push-ups and sit-ups. After tidying up the place, he left his room and went to a quiet area of Raccoon Ridge where people rarely went.
There, Kyle trained at an old abandoned house, boxing and throwing punches throughout the day. When it got late, he returned home to sleep.
The next day, he repeated the same routine, training all day at the abandoned house. When he was done, he walked back home through the dark, quiet streets of Raccoon Ridge, keeping to himself.
"I just hope it goes well and I don't have to be dragged out tomorrow. Hopefully, I get an easy opponent," Kyle muttered to himself.
When he got home, he decided to stay outdoors for a while, listening to the wind whistle in his ears before finally heading in.
The next morning, Kyle woke up and got ready for the day. Gathering his money and a few other things, he left the house and headed deeper into Raccoon Ridge.
He walked toward an apartment and, upon reaching the fourth floor, stood at a particular door. Pulling out some cash, he pushed part of the money under the door, then knocked and left.
Ma came to the door and opened it. Picking up the money, she walked to the window and looked out. She saw Kyle standing there, a smile on his face. Without saying a word, he turned and started walking away. Ma knew what it meant, as this wasn't the first time.
Tears started streaming down her face as she watched him walk away. She then sat down, her face now moist with tears. Taking up a picture, she looked at it. It was of Conan, Kyle, and herself. Placing it against her chest, she lay back, her eyes closed, with her tears soaking the bed.
Meanwhile, Kyle walked out of Raccoon Ridge, heading toward Coalspire. At the gates, he greeted the guards and paid his levy before entering. He headed straight to the underground den.
Since today was the tournament, all shops were mandated to close. Any shop that didn't would be forced to do so. Kyle went to the counter and wrote down his name, registering under the alias "Cleaver."
The den started filling with people, all ready to use this opportunity to make more money. Kyle took a seat and waited.
As the event was about to start, the special guests arrived. Dan and Finn entered together with their entourage. The man who had sat alone the previous time also came alone. The ring announcer then entered, eager to start the match.
"Ladies and gentlemen, it's that time of the year again! The time when your misfortunes can turn into hundreds, even millions!" he shouted. The crowd went wild, their cheers echoing and shaking the walls of the den.
The announcer introduced the usual special guests.
"And now, for the first match of this tournament! Born in the streets like every one of us, he has steeled his hands against men and beasts alike. Trying to break the chains of fate itself and make a name for himself. I give you the man and beast slayer — the Bloodhound!"
Cheers erupted within the den as a path cleared for a man whose fist were wrapped in cloth. Tattoos of various beasts adorned his body, with a large drawing of a beast on his back. Walking calmly into the caged ring, he was met with roaring cheers.
"And his opponent, once a former gambler like many of us. He saw the light and found a new calling. Having worked a nine-to-five job, he opted to take a new path — a path of chaos, a path of blood! I give you the man who worked the mines, with coal running through his veins. I give you — the Excavator!"
The crowd's excitement diminished somewhat, turning to see who the Excavator was. Laughter broke out as the man stepped into the light. His hair was disheveled, and his beard was unkempt. As he approached the ring, the laughter grew louder.
Stepping into the ring, the older man stretched, preparing for the fight.
"You're not meant to be here, old man," Bloodhound said.
"And where am I meant to be, then?" the Excavator asked.
"I don't know why but you're risking your life by entering this ring, is it really worth it?" Bloodhound said.
"Life is a risk, son. We all take a risk by being alive. But how do you want to make a change or rise to the top if you're not willing to take risks? You being here is a risk. And why am I doing this? Not to make a name for myself, but to provide for my family, even if it costs me my life," the Excavator replied.
"I respect that, old man. It's never too late to follow your dreams. But it seems this fairytale won't have a very good ending," Bloodhound remarked.
"I may not have the best life, but dying without trying would hurt more than a humbling defeat," the old man chuckled.
The bell rang, announcing the start of the fight. The Excavator rushed in, swinging a fist at Bloodhound. Smoothly, Bloodhound evaded the attacks, with not a single blow landing. Sweat started gathering on the Excavator's body, his movements slowing.
"Give it up, old man. It's alright to let your dreams slip away. You can always chase the next one, but this one is gone," Bloodhound said.
"I-I have to try, at least," the Excavator gasped.
"I admire your determination," Bloodhound replied.
The fight continued, with the Excavator throwing punches at the air, landing none. His muscles tightened, his joints ached, and finally, he dropped to one knee, breathing heavily.
The Bloodhound moved closer.
"Do you think he'll land a blow? I feel bad for him — he's trying so hard," a man beside Kyle said, talking to his friend.
"I don't know. I admire his determination, but the Bloodhound seems like a seasoned fighter," his friend replied.
As Bloodhound approached, a roar erupted from the Excavator. His eyes were bloodshot, veins popping out as he moved with sudden speed. His fist tightened, and finally, it collided with something...