Invitation

The crowd turned to him, some laughing at the sight of a "newbie" daring to step into the ring. He didn't look like much to them—lean, clean, and too well-dressed for someone who belonged here.

"You sure, pretty boy?" the burly champion sneered, cracking his knuckles. "This ain't no dance floor."

Alex's smirk deepened. "I'm sure."

The fight began quickly, and the mercenaries soon realised they'd underestimated him. Alex moved like a predator, his body fast and precise. He only made lethal strikes. The burly champion, despite his size and experience, didn't last long.

His sword struck with power and precision. No one could be his match, not now, not ever.

The crowd erupted in stunned silence, then a mix of cheers and muttered disbelief.

"That all you've got?" Alex asked, his tone cool as he threw the sword aside. It was not his, it was a sword given to them to make the fight fair.