Walking through the dimly lit streets of New York, a young man, an 18 years old, ventured alone into the labyrinthine alleys of the city. The night wrapped around him like a shroud, as he carried a cigarette between his fingers, his face devoid of any discernible emotion.
This was Arslan, a recent high school graduate, seeking solace in his favorite haunt, yearning to escape the suffocating thoughts of his everyday problems.
Approaching a flimsy building, Arslan stood before a towering man, whose imposing presence made his own above average physique appear small.
With a final drag from his cigarette, he tossed it to the ground and extended a folded piece of paper to the man. The towering figure barely glanced at it, swiftly stepping aside to open the door, a routine gesture for Arslan's frequent visits.
"Thanks," murmured Arslan under his breath, as he walked past the towering man, the door closing behind him, plunging the hallway into complete darkness, only for a distant glimmering light at its end.
Navigating the Dark hallway, Arslan withdrew something from his pocket, carfully wrapping it around his hands. His countenance shifted gradually, the anticipation mounting with each echoing shout emanating from the other side of the hallway.
Finally, covered in the radiant glow of the room, Arslan's face lit up with an exhilarating smile as he entered a colossal hall. A makeshift ring occupied the center, surrounded by an excited crowd, their collective cheers reverberating like the cries of madmen.
Within the ring, four fighters clashed, their bodies a blur of savage blows and relentless kicks.
In the midst of the chaos, an empty bottle hurtled from the crowd, finding its mark as one fighter seized it mid-air, shattering it against the skull of his unsuspecting opponent. The stricken fighter crumpled to the floor, unconscious, as the loud cheers of the crowd grew louder, celebrating the brutal spectacle before them.
The atmosphere was electric, charged with a palpable sense of anticipation. This wasn't your typical boxing match or MMA fight, it was a raw, unbridled brawl with no rules or guidelines, expect for one: it was the last man standing is named the winner.
Whether by knockout or even death, these combatants fought with a ferocity that defied reason. For them, the ultimate prize was worth any sacrifice.
Yet, amidst the chaos and brutality, each fighter possessed their own unique motivation. Arslan, a witness to the preceding battle that ended with the victorious bottle wielder, took a few deliberate steps forward.
He approached the owner of the venue, who stood applauding with uncontained excitement before his gaze settled upon Arslan, his face spreading into an eager grin.
"You're here! I thought you chickened out or something," the owner joked, extending a hand to receive a stack of cash from Arslan. Arslan, shedding his jacket and trousers, remained only in his boxing shorts.
"Do you honestly think I'd miss the chance to take on a man like Voragor?" Arslan responded, removing his shoes and placing them beside the ring.
The grizzled owner raised a cautionary voice, attempting to temper Arslan's confidence. "Don't be too sure of yourself, kid. This man has left a lot of bodies in his path. There's no shame in being scared."
Arslan sighed, a tinge of vulnerability in his voice, as he ascended the first step leading to the ring. "I wish I possessed such thing, old man," he murmured, acknowledging the hard challenge ahead. The announcer's voice resonated throughout the hall, introducing the next clash.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for! Prepare yourselves for a battle of epic proportions, a clash between a true maniac and a fearless warrior. Introducing our challenger, standing at 1.75 meters tall and weighing in at 80kg, known by many names, but tonight we cheer him as the Bloody Cub, Arslan!"
As his name reverberated through the arena, Arslan took his final steps, mounting the ring with a surge of determination. The crowd erupted in a thunderous cheer, rallying behind him as he took his position in the corner, ready to face his formidable opponent.
His gaze fixed upon the tunnel ahead, Arslan remained oblivious to the thunderous cheers of the crowd that reverberated throughout the arena. The fervor reached its peak as the announcer's voice boomed through the speakers, heralding the arrival of his opponent.
"And his opponent, emerging straight from the depths of hell itself, it is rumored that he shared a meal with the devil before stepping foot in this ring tonight. Standing at an imposing 2m tall and weighing in at a staggering 190kg, our reigning house champion, The Cannibal, Voragor!"
As Voragor emerged from the tunnel, the crowd erupted in a cacophony of adulation, their roars shaking the very foundations of the venue. The giant of a man hyped up the crowd, swinging his arms with such force that it seemed as if the entire place would tremble under his might.
"Voragor, Voragor, Voragor!" The chant thundered through the arena as he made his way towards the ring, jumping up and down lightly, his eyes locked onto Arslan.
Arslan, Unyielding in his focus, Arslan never once diverted his gaze from the looming figure before him.
The owner, who had entered the ring, attempted to sow doubt in Arslan's mind. "Are you sure you don't want to back out now?" he questioned, his voice tinged with concern. Arslan shook his head resolutely.
"Nope," he replied, his unwavering determination evident. With conviction in his stride, Arslan made his way towards the center of the ring, mirroring Voragor's movement.
The Owner, seizing the microphone as he always did for the main events, reiterated the rules one final time. "As you all know, this fight only end when one of you is incapacitated. knocked out, paralyzed, dead. I don't care. I will have my winner, no matter what. Now, if you understand these rules, nod once and return to your corners."
Both fighters complied, stepping back to their respective corners. The owner glanced at the announcer, signaling him to vacate the ring. Just as he was about to follow suit, he had one final thing to say.
"All bets are closed! Now, let the blood flow!" The owner's words ignited the crowd once more, their cheers reaching its peak. With that, he exited the ring, leaving the two combatants to face each other in an icy silence.
"You're going to die today, boy," Voragor declared, his fists colliding togather with a resounding boom that echoed throughout the arena. Arslan, seemingly unfazed, maintained his enigmatic smile.
"I think you've got it backward, freak," Arslan replied, his voice laced with an odd sense of contentment. The sound of the bell rang out, jolting them both into action.
Arslan possessed incredible speed, but with each thunderous step Voragor took, the ring trembled, impeding Arslan's progress. Forced to halt and dodge, he narrowly evaded a punch that felt closer to an oncoming freight truck hurtling towards him at breakneck speed.
With the crowd gasping in horror at the near miss, it seemed as though they were on the edge of witnessing a gruesome murder unfold before their very eyes.
Arslan, however, proved to be lightning fast, swiftly retaliating by launching a kick aimed at Voragor's knees. The giant of a man stood his ground, barely flinching as he absorbed the blow as if it were nothing more than a gentle breeze.
"What was that?" Voragor taunted, his voice dripping with mockery, challenging the strength of Arslan. Unfazed, Arslan attempted another attack, this time targeting the vulnerable area behind Voragor's knee. Yet, to his dismay, his efforts proved futile, as the blow had little to no effect on the behemoth before him.
"Tsk..., don't push your luck," Voragor sneered, his confidence unwavering. He swung his massive fist at Arslan once more, but the nimble fighter evaded the blow with lightning speed, gracefully evading the massive fist as it sailed through the air, grazing nothing but emptiness.
"You think you can do the same thing twice?" Voragor taunted, his keen eyes deciphering Arslan's every move. With calculated precision, he launched a powerful kick towards Arslan, who found himself caught off guard. The impact landed squarely on Arslan's midsection, propelling him through the air and sending him hurtling towards the ropes.
"Agh!" Arslan grunted, the sheer force of the blow causing an immense surge of pain through his body. However, he knew that there was no time to dwell on his injuries. With unwavering resolve, he swiftly evaded an incoming flying knee, narrowly escaping the devastating strike by a mere inch.
The atmosphere inside the ring was suffused with an unyielding intensity. The stakes were high, and the fight consisted of one grueling round with no boundaries of time. There were no breaks, no moments of respite; it was an unrelenting battle, a fight to the death within the confines of this formidable ring.
"Where do you think you're going?" Voragor growled, his imposing figure appearing before Arslan in an instant. With lightning-fast reflexes, Arslan skillfully evaded and blocked the relentless attacks of his opponent. Voragor showed no signs of slowing down, his ferocity matched only by the thunderous cheers of the crowd who reveled in the ruthless spectacle unfolding before them.
The owner, however, began to regret setting up this match as he watched the relentless assault. Arslan was one of his top earners in the ring, and thought he had overestimated the young man's tenacity. He expected Arslan to crumble under Voragor's might, rendering him worthless.
After what felt like an eternity of enduring Voragor's onslaught, the giant finally ceased his attacks, his breath ragged and labored. He stared intently at Arslan, who stood before him, hands raised in defense.
As Arslan lowered his guard, a wide smile crept across Voragor's face. He relished the sight of Arslan's battered face, the young fighter breathing heavily but refusing to back down.
"Did you have enough?" Voragor taunted, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and frustration. Arslan merely spat out a mouthful of blood before definitely raising his middle finger towards the towering giant. Voragor's irritation grew, but he acknowledged the young man's audacity.
'I think there's no other choice but to use it now,' Arslan thought before he mumbeled some words under his breath as he stared at Voragor.
"Fair enough!" Voragor exclaimed, his tone dripping with a newfound determination. He attempted to land an uppercut on Arslan, but the nimble fighter swiftly dodged the attack, countering with a punch of his own, targeting Voragor's exposed elbow.
"Tsk..." Voragor grunted, acknowledging the pain coming through his arm. Undeterred, he launched a powerful kick towards Arslan, only to be met with another dodge.
Arslan retaliated with a swift kick of his own, targeting the vulnerable knees of the towering giant, causing Voragor to take a step back, momentarily off-balance as it seemed powerful than before.
As Arslan observed the impact of his calculated strikes, a surge of determination coursed through him. He continued to exploit the weak points in Voragor's defense, relentlessly targeting the joints where the giant's movements were becoming slower and more labored. With each counter attack from Arslan, Voragor's imposing figure began to falter, his movements losing their fluidity and grace.
Finally, the moment of triumph arrived. Voragor's towering form wavered, his balance compromised as he succumbed to the relentless assault. His massive frame sank to one knee, a testament to the effectiveness of Arslan's strategy.
The deafening roar of the crowd reached new heights as they witnessed the mighty giant, Voragor, brought to his knees before the young Arslan. The spectators' cheers reverberated through the arena, their excitement palpable, knowing they were about to witness a pivotal moment in the battle.
Arslan seized the opportunity presented to him, his mind focused on only one thing, finishing Voragor once and for all.
With lightning-fast agility, Arslan swiftly planted his foot on Voragor's broad shoulders, using them as a launching pad. He launched himself high into the air, executing a flawless front flip that culminated in a devastating descent. Arslan's heel crashed down upon Voragor's skull, eliciting a resounding thud and an agonized grunt from the fallen giant.
Yet, Arslan understood that he couldn't relent. Even though Voragor was already bleeding, the young fighter knew he had to press on. With impeccable timing and precision, Arslan deftly ducked under Voragor's desperate retaliatory strike, narrowly evading the heavy blow.
Seizing the opening, Arslan unleashed a forceful front kick, aimed directly at Voragor's face. The impact was staggering, sending shockwaves through the air. As a result, several of Voragor's teeth were violently expelled, soaring through the air like tiny projectiles.
Voragor crumpled to the ground, his massive frame collapsing in defeat. The impact of Arslan's devastating attack had left him motionless and sprawled on his face, defeated and utterly still. The arena fell into silence as the crowd held its breath, captivated by the sight before them.
Arslan stood alone in the center of the ring, his body battered and bloodied. He gazed down at his fallen opponent, a mix of exhaustion and triumph etched on his face, the weight of the victory settled upon him.
The air was heavy with anticipation as the spectators absorbed the gravity of the situation. Arslan had emerged victorious, his opponent defeated and motionless before him. The deafening silence was soon shattered by a thunderous eruption of applause, the crowd erupting into a frenzy of cheers and admiration for the remarkable display of skill they had witnessed.
As the electrifying fight came to its conclusion, the owner of the arena stepped into the center of the ring, a sense of solemnity lingering in the air. He presented Arslan with his well-deserved prize, a tangible symbol of his victory. The crowd erupted once more, their cheers echoing throughout the arena, paying tribute to the remarkable display of skill and determination.
In the midst of the celebratory chaos, the owner leaned in close to Arslan, his voice a hushed whisper amidst the noise "We need to talk, come by club tomorrow,"
Arslan, aware that this moment would inevitably come, met the owner's gaze with a knowing smile, acknowledging the unspoken conversation that was about to take place. With a subtle nod, he conveyed his understanding.
Relinquishing his hold on Arslan's hand, the owner watched in silence as the young fighter made his way out of the ring. The crowd's loud cheers followed him, serving as a soundtrack to his departure.