Ethan woke up the day after he defeated Darren "The Machine" Marsh to a new world. His phone was blowing up on the nightstand, and the notifications were piling up from sports outlets, social media, and an unknown number that had already called three times. He wasn't sure if he should answer the next call.
"Ethan Walker," he said drowsily.
"Mr. Walker, this is Diana Lathrop from Sport Weekly," a crisp, professional voice greeted him. "Congratulations on your win. We'd love an exclusive interview—your thoughts on the fight, your journey, everything."
Ethan rubbed his eyes, the weight of fatigue settling over him. "Thanks, but I'm not ready for an interview right now."
Diana pressed on, undeterred. "Your story's gaining traction, Mr. Walker. You're the underdog everyone's rooting for. This could be your moment."
Ethan sighed. "I'll think about it. Thanks." He ended the call, tossing the phone aside. The spotlight felt as heavy as Darren's fists.
At the gym, Frank's focus was sharper than ever. Ethan's victory had made waves, but his trainer wasn't celebrating. He handed Ethan a fresh pair of gloves without a word, motioning toward the heavy bag.
"Not even a 'good job'?" Ethan quipped, trying to lighten the mood.
Frank furrowed his brow. "Good doesn't get you on top, though. You lucked out last night—Marsh didn't know what he had in you. Your next opponent won't make that mistake."
Ethan set his jaw but knew Frank was right. The fight had been brutal, and he'd barely squeaked through the other side of it. Frustration with himself coiled into the bag like a spring, each punch a reminder of how far he still had to go.
After the session, Frank took Ethan aside. "Listen, kid. There is a lot of noise around you right now—interviews, offers, the whole circus. But none of that matters if you lose focus. You've got to keep your head in the game."
"I'm trying," Ethan said, wiping sweat from his brow. "It's just.a lot.
Frank nodded. "Then we'll mask out the noise together. But there's one thing we can't ignore." He pushed Ethan a manila envelope. Inside were photographs of Ethan leaving his underground fight weeks ago, accompanying it by a typed note: We're watching.
Ethan's stomach dropped. "Victor?"
Frank nodded grimly. "He's not letting this go. You need to tread carefully."
Victor Kane had always been a looming figure in Ethan's world, but now his presence felt suffocating. That evening, Ethan's worst fears were confirmed when Victor himself appeared at the gym. His sharp suit and cool demeanor stood in stark contrast to the gritty, sweat-soaked atmosphere.
"You've been ignoring my calls," Victor said, his voice low but commanding.
Ethan's fists clenched. "I told you, I'm not interested."
Victor smiled thinly. "You think this is about interest? This is about loyalty. You made a deal, and I don't take kindly to people breaking deals."
Frank stepped between them, his presence a wall of defiance. "He doesn't owe you anything. Get out.
Victor's eyes darted toward Frank, his smile unwavering. "Ah, the ever-protective coach. Tell me, Frank, how far are you willing to go to protect him? Because I guarantee, my reach goes further."
"You don't scare me," Frank said.
Victor leaned in closer to Ethan. "You, though, you should be afraid. This fighting business? This is only the start of it all. Play your part and you will have gone places you never ever thought possible. But cross me? Then you will plummet faster than you can blink twice."
Victor's smile faded, replaced by a cold glare. "Then you'd better be prepared for what's coming." He turned on his heel and strode out, leaving a tense silence in his wake.
The following weeks blended together with training and paranoia. Threats by Victor were on Ethan's mind, but he continued to focus all his energy toward preparing for his next match. The opponent, Miguel "Iron" Ruiz, was an experienced fighter noted for his endurance and potent kicks. The fight against him would be the hardest for Ethan so far as it was a proving ground, a battle to quiet those critics and secure his position on the professional circuit.
As for that fight night, the arena thudded full of anticipation. Ethan scanned into the ring, half hoping that he would see Victor watching from the shadows with that cold gaze. He kept the thought aside, pushing it back. He did not have time for those thoughts.
The bell rang, and Miguel came out strong, pushing Ethan with a series of rapid jabs and calculated low kicks. Ethan could not find his rhythm; his movements were sluggish under the weight of weeks of tension. By the end of the first round, he had taken significant damage, and doubt began to creep in.
Turning corner, Frank jerked him by the shoulders. "Hey! Focus on this!" he shouted to cut over the din of noise in the background. "Do not let him win with this fight! Stay tight—footwork and counters don't let him control how quick or slow things are!"
Ethan nodded taking deep breaths as he heard the gong.
This time, though, he got his legs under himself. He danced in and around Miguel's shots, returning with sharp hooks and well-timed combinations. The crowd's electricity shifted as Ethan began turning the tables, landing a sharp uppercut that sent Miguel reeling backward.
The third round was a test of endurance. Both fighters were battered and bloodied, their movements slower but no less determined. Ethan saw an opening in the final moments: Miguel dropped his guard for a split second, and Ethan capitalized with a devastating right hook that sent his opponent crashing to the mat.
The referee's count seemed like an eternity, but when it hit ten, the arena erupted. Ethan had done it again, defying the odds and solidifying his place as a rising star.
Backstage, as Ethan sat in the locker room icing his swollen knuckles, Frank handed him a bottle of water. "You fought well tonight."
Ethan forced a tired smile. "Thanks, Frank. I couldn't have done it without you.
A text appeared on Ethan's phone to break the silence. The message was from a strange number: Congratulations, Ethan. But this is far from over.
Frank turned the screen his way. "Victor.
He nodded, and his exhaustion slowly gave way to a quiet resolution. He knew the path ahead was not going to be easy, but he had gone too far for him to turn back. The fight was no longer inside the ring; it's in the shadows, with Victor's influence threatening to disintegrate everything Ethan fought for.
"Let him come," Ethan said firmly as he steadied his voice. "I am not leaving.