blood, and damp stone. Dim torches flickered, casting shadows over the waiting fighters.
Kael tightened the bandages around his fists. His last fight had been rough. He won, but it took more effort than it should have. His body wasn't the same as before. His movements were slow, his strikes lacked power.
Not enough.
In his past life, he had been part of the Divine Order's elite forces. A soldier. Nothing more. He followed orders, fought when told, and never questioned anything. But when he finally did… they got rid of him.
Now, he was back at the bottom.
"Next match!"
A voice called out. Kael stepped forward. His next opponent was already waiting—a broad-shouldered man with thick arms and scars running down his skin. A veteran.
The crowd stirred as the fight began.
Kael sidestepped the first punch, but just barely. His counterattack struck the man's ribs, but it barely made him flinch.
The man smirked. "That all?"
A fist slammed into Kael's stomach. He staggered back, pain shooting through his body. The crowd cheered.
No.
Kael steadied himself. He had felt worse pain before. He wouldn't lose here.
His opponent swung again, but Kael saw the pattern now. The man relied on brute force, putting too much weight into each strike.
Kael slipped past a heavy punch and drove his elbow into the man's jaw. Before he could recover, Kael swept his leg, sending him crashing down.
The crowd gasped.
Without hesitation, Kael followed up with a fist to the throat. Not enough to kill—but enough to make sure the man stayed down.
The announcer shouted his victory. The crowd roared.
Kael barely paid attention. He turned and walked away.
Still not enough.
He needed more fights. More strength.
There was no time to waste.