The Match's Clonclusion

Orion looked at the sword Marcus dropped. He picked it up and held it in front of him, pointing it towards Marcus.

His grip was strong and firm, his fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt. The tip of the sword was mere inches away from Marcus's neck.

"It's over," he repeated, his voice low and menacing.

Marcus stared back at him defiantly, refusing to cower before his enemy. "You can't kill me," he said, his voice laced with defiance. "I am from Panthera Clan."

Orion's eyes narrowed at the mention of the clan. He let out a mocking laugh, his voice filled with anger. "Do you think I am afraid of your clan?" he spat. "I will not accept your death match invitation if I am afraid."

He took a step closer to Marcus, the tip of the sword now pressing into his skin. "You have sent assassins to me and I have killed them," he continued, his voice filled with fury. "You sent them just because I obstructed you from picking up girls."