The crowd roared as I stepped into the ring, the noise washing over me like a tidal wave. My heart pounded in my chest, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Across from me stood my opponent, a boy about my age but slightly taller, his stance loose but confident.
"You think you're ready for this?" he asked, smirking as he rolled his shoulders.
I didn't answer. Instead, I raised my hands into an orthodox stance, my eyes locked on his.
"Alright," he said, his grin widening. "Let's see what you've got."
---
We circled each other, the dirt crunching under our feet. The crowd's chants faded into the background as I focused on his movements. He threw a few jabs, testing the distance, and I mirrored him, my own punches snapping through the air.
I saw my opening and stepped forward, throwing a quick jab-cross combination. My fist connected with his jaw, snapping his head back, but I didn't see the body kick until it was too late. His shin slammed into my ribs, and pain exploded in my side.
I staggered but kept my guard up, pushing through the discomfort.
"Nice hit," he taunted, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "But I've got more where that came from."
He feinted a jab, then slipped to the side and launched a jab-cross-uppercut combination. I barely managed to weave under the uppercut, feeling the rush of air as his fist grazed past my chin.
I saw my chance and surged forward, driving him into the wooden post at the edge of the ring.
---
In the clinch, I didn't waste time. My knee shot up, slamming into his ribs, then again into his thigh. He grunted in pain, his body jerking with each blow. I followed up with shoulder strikes to his face, feeling the satisfying impact as they landed cleanly.
He struggled against me, but his movements were frantic, uncoordinated. I could tell he wasn't comfortable grappling, and I knew exactly what to do.
I locked my arms around his waist, securing a tight body lock. With a sharp pivot and a sweep of my leg, I executed an inside trip or a osoto gari, taking him off his feet and slamming him to the ground.
The crowd roared as we hit the dirt, but I didn't let the noise distract me.
---
He scrambled, trying to get away, but I moved faster. Sliding past his legs, I passed his guard and took the mount position. His eyes widened as I pinned him beneath me, his chest heaving as he struggled to push me off.
"Get off me!" he shouted, his hands pressing against my chest.
But it was a mistake. He overextended his arms, giving me the opening I needed.
I swung my leg over his head, locking my feet as I transitioned into an armbar. The crowd's cheers turned into a deafening roar as I cranked his arm, hyperextending the elbow.
"Stop!" he yelled, his free hand slapping the ground. "I give up!"
I released the hold immediately, rolling to my feet as the boy curled into himself, cradling his arm.
---
The crowd erupted, some cheering my victory while others grumbled about their lost bets. I stood there, chest heaving, my ribs aching from the earlier kick, but a strange sense of satisfaction washed over me.
Rorik pushed through the crowd, a faint smile on his face as he handed me a small pouch.
"Here," he said. "Fifty copper. Your winnings—and the share I bet on you."
I raised an eyebrow, surprised. "You bet on me?"
"Of course," he said with a smirk. "Would've been a waste to let you fight for free. But don't let it go to your head—you still have a long way to go."
I nodded, pocketing the coins.
"And remember," he added, his tone light but edged with meaning, "you'd better keep winning. I'm not going to take care of you forever."
As the crowd began to disperse and the noise of the hall dulled to a low hum, Rorik clapped me on the back, his hand heavy but not unkind.
"Come on," he said. "We've done enough for today."
I followed him out of the hall, the crisp evening air a welcome contrast to the sweat and heat inside. The streets of Akerholt were quieter now, the earlier bustle of the market replaced by the muted sounds of villagers heading home.
We reached the cart, and Rorik tossed the pouch of coins into the back before climbing up to the driver's seat. As I settled in beside him, he glanced over with a smirk.
"Word of advice," he said, his tone conspiratorial. "Don't mention this to Inga. If she finds out what we did here, she'll make me sleep outside for a week."
I couldn't help but laugh, the tension of the day easing slightly. "I'll keep it between us."
"Good," he said, snapping the reins. The horses started forward, the cart rumbling down the dirt path as we left the village behind.
The landscape stretched out before us, the fading sunlight painting the rolling hills in shades of gold and amber. For the first time since stepping into that ring, I felt the adrenaline drain from my body, replaced by a quiet determination.
Whatever lay ahead, I was ready to face it.