The arena felt like a living beast, breathing with the shifting tide of the crowd's excitement. The air was thick—humid and metallic, heavy with the scent of blood, sweat, and adrenaline. The harsh glow of overhead lights cast long shadows, stretching the fighters' silhouettes into distorted, monstrous shapes. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic beat that seemed to echo off the cold concrete walls.
The crowd's roar surged like an ocean, unpredictable and wild, each cheer and jeer vibrating through his body. They had seen him land that counter, they had seen Min Jun stagger—and they were hungry for more. Hungry for blood. Hungry for a fight.
But the protagonist's mind was elsewhere. His vision swam, as if he had just emerged from underwater. What the hell just happened?
His body screamed in pain. Every muscle in his frame felt raw, his vision blurred from the sheer exhaustion that had set in the moment the bell rang. He didn't know where he was. The sound of the crowd seemed to distort, warping into a dull, rhythmic pounding that matched the tempo of his heart.
This wasn't just a fight—this was something else. Something dangerous, something he didn't fully understand.
Min Jun wiped blood from his mouth, eyes flashing with dark amusement. Despite the hit, he was still standing. Still dangerous. Still the predator. Don't let that fool you. He's just trying to get into your head.
The opponent's smirk widened as he took a step back, lowering his stance. His muscles coiled, ready to spring. He wasn't going to wait for the protagonist to catch his breath. Min Jun's next move was faster than anything he had seen yet—almost a blur.
The sound of a foot slicing through the air was all he heard before it was too late. Min Jun launched himself forward with a vicious spinning kick, aimed at the protagonist's head. The speed of it was like nothing he'd ever felt before. Shit, he's going for the knockout.
The protagonist barely ducked in time, feeling the whoosh of air as Min Jun's foot barely missed his face. He could taste the sweat on his lips, the panic rising in his throat. I can't keep dodging forever. I need a plan. Something to stop him.
Min Jun landed with perfect control, his feet never touching the ground too hard, as if the floor were just a suggestion to him. He was dancing—no, fighting—like he was on another level entirely, his movements precise and deadly. He attacked again, another combination—left jab, right cross, another roundhouse kick aimed at the protagonist's ribs.
This time, the protagonist saw the opening. His experience, though rusty, was kicking in. A swift sidestep—barely escaping the punch—and he was back on his feet. His body felt sluggish, but his mind was sharp. Get in close. No more dancing around.
Min Jun, still relentless, pressed the attack, his footwork impossibly fast. The punches came in a blur, too fast to counter individually. The protagonist felt his breath start to rasp in his chest, his legs growing heavier with each step. He was already behind.
I need to keep him off balance.
The protagonist closed the distance between them with a sudden, desperate lunge. Min Jun's eyes widened in surprise—he wasn't expecting the protagonist to be this aggressive. The crowd gasped, sensing the shift, but it was too late for Min Jun to adjust.
The protagonist's fist shot out, aiming not for Min Jun's head, but for his midsection—right into the gap between his ribs. He drove the punch deep, pushing through the shock and pain that roared through his own knuckles. The hit landed with a sickening thud. Min Jun froze, his breath catching, a sharp gasp escaping his lips.
The crowd went deathly quiet.
The protagonist's eyes never left his opponent. I can't stop now.
Min Jun took a step back, clutching his side, his face twisting in disbelief. For a moment, it seemed like the world stood still, the arena holding its breath. Then, Min Jun's lips curled into that same wicked smile, blood staining his teeth.
"You think that's all it takes?" he sneered, wiping his mouth again, the taunting smile still intact. "You're not even in my league."
Despite the pain, the punch had landed cleanly—unexpectedly. Min Jun had underestimated him. The realization hit the protagonist like a jolt of electricity.
This fight is far from over.
The crowd erupted into deafening cheers as Min Jun straightened up, his eyes gleaming with fury and something darker. This is it. The moment I've been waiting for.
He lunged forward again, but this time, the protagonist was ready. With everything he had left, he threw his entire weight into a savage uppercut aimed at Min Jun's jaw. The strike landed with a resounding crack, and for the first time, Min Jun staggered backward, his legs wobbly.
The crowd screamed, their voices rising to a crescendo as Min Jun teetered. The protagonist's heart thundered in his chest as he watched his opponent's face shift from confidence to genuine uncertainty.
For a brief moment, it seemed like the impossible had happened.
Min Jun stood there, shaking his head, almost as if he were waking up from a dream. He wiped his jaw, his eyes darkening with rage.
And then, just as quickly as it had happened, Min Jun's smirk returned—this time more dangerous, more calculating.
The game's not over yet.
The protagonist braced himself. Whatever came next, he had to be ready.
But just as Min Jun shifted his stance, ready to attack again, the arena lights flickered—flickered like something was wrong with the whole setup, like a glitch in the world itself.
For a heartbeat, everything went dark. The crowd fell silent. And then, the lights came back on, but the feeling in the air had changed.
Something's wrong. Something's not right about this place.