The crowd's roar surged like a wave crashing against jagged rocks, an overwhelming cacophony that reverberated through the protagonist's skull. His pulse raced, each beat hammering in his chest, and he was sure the sweat on his skin wasn't just from the heat of the underground arena. It was the suffocating pressure, the weight of the moment that threatened to crush him.
Min Jun, battered but not broken, wiped the blood from his lips and locked eyes with him. The smirk was gone now, replaced by something far more dangerous: the glint of someone who would fight until the very last breath. His body was hunched, his fists raised high as if to say, Bring it.
The announcer's voice rumbled through the loudspeakers, a hushed tone that sent a ripple of tension through the crowd. "One last round. The mystery contender, standing tall against the champion!" His voice crackled with excitement, but it was quickly drowned out by the deafening cheers of the audience. They were ready for the final blow.
The protagonist's chest felt tight, the throbbing in his ribs a constant reminder of how much pain he'd endured. He wiped the blood from his mouth, his vision still swimming in the aftershock of the fight.
How did it come to this? He didn't even know where he was anymore. The surreal shift between this underground world and the one he'd known was dizzying. Was this reality? Was he still dreaming? His body screamed in protest, every muscle warning him that it wasn't ready for what was coming next.
It doesn't matter, he thought bitterly. There's no way out. I either win or...
A sharp intake of breath shattered his focus. Min Jun was already moving again. Too fast. Too precise.
The opponent darted forward like a predator closing in on its prey. His body seemed to blur with the speed of his attack, each motion impossibly fast. He spun, his leg slicing through the air in a roundhouse kick aimed directly at the protagonist's head.
No time to dodge, he realized, panic flaring in his gut. But his instincts kicked in just as the kick came closer.
In that split second, everything slowed. The crowd's roar faded to a distant hum, the harsh lighting above them turned to a dull glow. His mind, now clear from the panic, told him what to do.
He tilted his body to the side just enough to avoid the full impact, feeling the air rush past his cheek as Min Jun's leg missed by a fraction of an inch. The crowd gasped in unison, the shock in their collective breath sending a jolt of energy through his veins.
The opening. The chance he'd been waiting for.
The protagonist used the momentum from his dodge to lunge forward, his body moving almost instinctively. His right fist shot out, aiming for Min Jun's exposed ribs. The blow landed with a resounding crack that echoed through the arena. For a moment, everything went still.
Then came the noise—the sickening thud of Min Jun's body hitting the mat. The crowd collectively gasped, then exploded in a chorus of disbelief and excitement. They'd never seen the champion taken down like that.
Min Jun lay there for a heartbeat, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The protagonist's breath came in ragged gasps, his own body screaming for rest, but there was no time for that. He didn't let up, not even for a second.
He kept his eyes on Min Jun, watching for any sign of movement, ready to finish what he'd started. But Min Jun's head shifted slightly, his eyes narrowing with a look that made the protagonist's stomach churn. The corner of his mouth twitched upward—almost a smirk.
No. No way. He's still—
The champion wasn't done. Not by a long shot.
The crowd seemed to hold its breath. Min Jun pushed himself up, his hands shaking slightly but his resolve clear in his eyes. Blood trickled from his nose, his lips split, but there was an unsettling calm to him now. A calm before the storm.
The protagonist, too, was feeling the weight of this fight. His body was worn, aching in places he didn't know existed. But there was no turning back. Not now.
I'm still standing, he realized, his voice a quiet roar in his head. I'm still here. And I'm not losing.
Min Jun stood tall, ready for the next round, but his smirk was gone. He was no longer the cocky fighter he had been in the beginning—this wasn't about flair anymore. This was about survival. And now, for the first time in this fight, the protagonist saw it clearly. The doubt creeping into Min Jun's eyes. The frustration behind every movement.
This wasn't just about who was stronger, faster, or more skilled. This was about who would break first.
And for the first time, it wasn't going to be him.
Min Jun advanced again, slower this time, measuring his next strike. But the protagonist was already in motion, ready for the next round.
As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the match, the arena fell silent. For one electric moment, it felt as though time had frozen.
The protagonist's chest heaved, his arms trembling. He wasn't sure if he had won. He wasn't sure if Min Jun was going to get back up again.
But one thing was clear: he had earned his place. In this arena, under these lights, amidst the chaos and the blood, he had proven something that not even Min Jun could deny.