Walking through the dimly lit streets of New York, a young man, an 18 years old, walked alone into the alleys of the city. The night wrapped around him like a shroud, as he carried a cigarette between his fingers, his face not showing any emotion. 

This was Arslan, a recent high school graduate, seeking comfort in his favorite activity for the night, wanting to escape the suffocating thoughts of his everyday problems that seemed like it was never ending.

Approaching a flimsy building, Arslan stood before a huge guy, whose imposing presence made his own above average physique appear small in comparison. 

With a final pull from his cigarette, he tossed it to the ground before he handing a folded piece of paper to the man. The huge man barely glanced at it, swiftly stepping aside to open the door for him, a routine gesture for Arslan's frequent visits to this place.

"Thanks," Arslan murmured under his breath, as he walked past the towering man, the door closing behind him, causing the hallway to get into complete darkness, only for a distant light at its end.

Navigating the Dark hallway, Arslan withdrew something from his pocket before he carfully started wrapping it around his hands. His look shifted gradually, the anticipation mounting with each echoing shout that was coming from the other side of the hallway.

Finally, covered in the glow of the room, Arslan's face lit up with a wide smile as he entered a huge hall. A makeshift ring occupied the center of it, surrounded by an excited crowd, their collective cheers were like the cries of madmen.

Within the ring, four men clashed, their bodies a blur of savage blows and relentless kicks.

In the midst of the chaos, an empty bottle thrown from the crowd, finding its mark as one fighter seized it mid-air, shattering it against the skull of his opponent who didn't see that coming. The affected fighter fell to the floor, unconscious, as the loud cheers of the crowd grew louder, celebrating the brutal sight 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, uncontrolled brawl with no rules or guidelines, expect for one, which was the last man standing is named the winner.

Whether by knockout or even death, these fighters fought with a ferocity that defied reason. For them, the ultimate prize was worth any sacrifice they needed to take.

Yet, amidst the chaos and brutality, each fighter possessed their own unique motivation. Arslan, a witness to the battle that ended with the victorious bottle wielder, took a few deliberate steps forward as he knew his turn was next.

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 as soon as he saw him.

"You're here! I thought you bitched out or something," the owner joked, extending a hand to receive a stack of cash from Arslan, who was shedding his jacket and trousers, remained only in his boxing shorts.

"Do you honestly think I would miss the chance to fight a man like Voragor?" Arslan responded, removing his shoes and placing them beside the ring as he seemed ready to step into the ring.

The grizzled owner spoke with a cautionary voice, attempting to adjust Arslan's confidence. "Don't be too sure of yourself, kid. This man has left a lot of bodies behind him. There's no shame in being scared of this motherfucker."

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, yet he had no fear of stepping inside that ring.

The announcer's voice resonated throughout the hall, introducing the next clash, as it was the main event of the evening.

"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 echoed through the arena, Arslan took his final steps, getting inside 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 opponent.

His gaze fixed upon the tunnel ahead, Arslan remained oblivious to the thunderous cheers of the crowd that echoed throughout the arena. The excitement reached its peak as the announcer's voice boomed through the speakers, announcing 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, their roars shaking the whole place. The giant of a man hyped up the crowd came out walking, swinging his arms with such force that it seemed as if the entire place would tremble under his power.

"Voragor, Voragor, Voragor!" The chant thundered through the arena as he made his way into the ring, jumping up and down lightly, shaking the ring as his eyes were locked onto Arslan.

Arslan, Unyielding in his focus, Arslan never once moved his gaze from the looming figure who stood before him.

The owner, who had entered the ring, attempted to sow doubt in Arslan's mind as he stood beside him for a second. "Are you sure you don't want to back out now?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern for the young man, but Arslan shook his head as a response.

"Nope," he replied, his unwavering spirit evident. With confident in his walk that was closer to arrogance, 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 done for. knocked out, paralyzed, dead. I don't give a fuck what it is. 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 before 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 left the ring, leaving the two fighters to face each other in a cold 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 by him, maintained his smirk as he stared at him.

"I think you've got it backward, freak," Arslan replied, his voice laced with an odd sense of contentment before The sound of the bell rang out, moving them both into action.

Arslan possessed incredible speed, but with each thunderous step Voragor took, the ring trembled, holding back Arslan's progress. Forced to stop and dodge, he narrowly evaded a punch that felt closer to a truck being thrown 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 eyes.

Arslan, however, proved to be lightning fast, swiftly retaliating by launching a kick aimed at Voragor's knees, but 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 by him, Arslan attempted another attack, this time targeting the vulnerable area behind Voragor's knee. Yet, to his shock, his efforts proved futile, as the blow had little to no effect on the giant before him.

"Tsk..., don't push your luck," Voragor sneered, before he swung his massive fist at Arslan once more, but the nimble fighter evaded the blow with lightning speed just like he did before, evading the massive fist as it sailed through the air, grazing nothing but the air.

"You think you can do the same thing twice?" Voragor taunted, his keen eyes deciphering Arslan's moves. With calculated precision, he launched a powerful kick towards Arslan, who found himself caught off guard as he didn't see it coming. The impact landed squarely on Arslan's midsection, sending him through the air and thrown 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 care about his injuries. He swiftly evaded an incoming flying knee coming from the jumping giant, narrowly escaping the devastating strike by a mere inch.

The atmosphere inside the ring was suffused with intensity. The stakes were high, and the fight consisted of one round with no time limit to it. There were no breaks, no moments to pause and rest, it was a tough battle, a fight to the death within the confines of this small squared ring.

"Where do you think you're going?" Voragor said, his imposing figure appearing before Arslan in an instant. With 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 scene 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 at any moment now, rendering him worthless to him in the future.

After what felt like an eternity of enduring Voragor's assault, the giant finally ceased his attacks, his breath ragged and labored as he grew tired of swinging his arms and legs. He stared at Arslan, who stood before him with his hands raised in defense.

As Arslan lowered his guard, a wide smile crept across Voragor's face when he saw the state the young man was in. He relished the sight of Arslan's brused face and body, the young fighter breathing heavily but refusing to back down.

"Did you have enough yet?" Voragor taunted, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and frustration, as he hated that he wasn't able to make him fall down with all the punches he just launched. Arslan merely spat out a mouthful of blood before definitely raising his middle finger towards the towering giant making Voragor's irritation grow, but he acknowledged the young man's toughness.

'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 moved attempting to land an uppercut on Arslan, but the nimble fighter swiftly dodged the attack before countering with a punch of his own, targeting Voragor's exposed elbow.

"Tsk..." Voragor grunted, acknowledging the pain coming through his arm, as he could feel Arslan's attack became stronger all of a sudden. Undeterred by that, 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 even the kicks were powerful than before.

As Arslan saw the impact of his strikes, a surge of determination ran 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 waver, his movements losing their fluidity and grace it had before.

Finally, the moment to prevail arrived. Voragor's towering form wavered, his balance compromised as he gave in 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 for the first time. The spectators' excitment reached its hight, knowing they were about to witness a pivotal moment in this fight.

Arslan seized the opportunity presented to him, his mind focused on only one thing, and that was finishing Voragor once and for all.

Arslan, quick as a flash, used Voragor's shoulders as a springboard. He jumped high, did a perfect front flip, and came down hard. His heel smashed onto Voragor's skull with a loud thud, making the giant grunt in pain.

Even though Voragor was already bleeding, Arslan knew he had to keep going. With perfect timing, Arslan quickly ducked under Voragor's desperate counterattack, just missing the heavy hit he was trying to launch to defend himself.

There was an opening, and Arslan took advantage of it fully, and landed a powerful front kick right on Voragor's face when his guard was down. The impact was brutal, sending a shockwave through the air and knocking several of Voragor's teeth out like tiny projectiles.

That kick was enough, as Voragor fell to the ground, face first, defeated. Arslan's attack had knocked him out cold, leaving him flat on his face. The arena was dead silent, as everyone was stunned by what had just happened just now.

Arslan stood alone in the center of the ring, his body brused and bloodied. He glanced down at his fallen opponent, a mix of exhaustion and achievement etched on his face, the weight of the victory settled upon him.

Everyone was on the edge of their seats, you could feel the tension in the air. Arslan had totally defeated his opponent, leaving him flat out on the ground, before the crowd suddenly went wild, the silence exploded into cheers and applause for Arslan's victory.

As the fight came to its conclusion, the owner of the arena stepped into the center of the ring. He presented Arslan with his well-deserved prize, a symbol of his victory making the crowd erupt once more, paying tribute to the remarkable display of skill and determination that they saw.

In the midst of the celebration, the owner leaned in close to Arslan, his voice a whisper amidst the noise "We need to talk, come by the strip club tomorrow,"

Arslan, knew that this moment would inevitably come, met the owner's gaze with a knowing smile and a nod.

The owner let go of Arslan's hand and watched him leave the ring as the crowd cheered loudly as Arslan limped away from there.