The Brawl

I pushed through the crowd and saw them roaring for a stout man who had just dominated a brutal brawl, leaving his helpless opponent bloodied and broken with his bare hands.

After the fight, the organizer declared his victory, and the crowd erupted once more. The name "Danny! Danny!" echoed in my ears, relentless and deafening.

I turned to look at him, standing at the center of the ring, and in that moment, I knew—I would never forget the look on his face.

The man who had just won the brawl was Danny Ashford. Except for his teeth, his entire body was black. Standing at six and a half feet tall with a broad chest and powerful arms, he was an intimidating presence. I learned from someone in the crowd that he was the organizer of the ongoing fights.

To participate in these contests, a contestant had to deposit money in advance with Danny Ashford. Spectators placed their bets on the fighters, and if one managed to defeat a stronger opponent, they could win double or even triple the amount they wagered. Another skinny young man, desperate for money, decided to take part. The crowd roared as the fight began. Within two or three minutes, Danny Ashford had effortlessly knocked the skinny man to the ground.

The defeated fighter was dragged out of the ring and harshly scolded by those who had supported him. Four or five more matches took place, each ending in swift victories. As the final fight concluded, a murmur spread through the crowd. I overheard someone say that many who had fought against Danny Ashford had not only lost in the ring but had also met tragic ends in real life. Rumours circulated about multiple cases filed against him at the police station. An inspector who had once investigated Danny Ashford was later found brutally murdered, his body floating near the seashore. The person sharing these details with me continued speaking, offering more information than I had asked for.

The man collecting money from the crowd cleared his throat and announced, "People, today marks the end of these competitions. To make it memorable, we have a grand finale. There is one final fight left against Danny. "Whoever wins this match will receive a huge return on the money they bet."

"Hey, don't try to lure us! Just tell us the amount. Say it now, or I'm walking out of here."

"Suit yourself. It's your bad luck—I can't help it," the announcer replied, smirking. Laughter rippled through the crowd.

The cheers erupted, their voices soaring into the night sky.

The announcer climbed onto a table and continued, "You all know that in these surrounding villages—no, even in the nearby cities and districts—no man has ever defeated Danny Ashford. If anyone wants to gain dominance over him, it will only be possible after his death. Isn't that right, people?"

The spectators shouted in agreement. He then added, "The prize for today's final match is twenty times the amount wagered! Bet a thousand bucks, and if you win, walk away with twenty thousand! Who dares to take the challenge?"

The crowd's excitement intensified. Ignoring their warnings and strange looks, I stepped forward and handed over the money I had brought as a fish seller, intending to challenge Danny Ashford.

The announcer stared at me with concern. "Hey, my son, why risk your life for nothing? Go home and be wise. Go to your parents."

"I have no parents," I replied firmly. "I will win this bet. Do you not have the courage to take my money?"

He hesitated for a moment before accepting my wager. "Fine, but do you know the rules?"

"What are they?" I asked.

"If your opponent falls, you must wait for him to get up. No attacks under the belt. No use of nails or teeth. If you break these rules, even if you win, the victory won't count," he explained in a low voice.

"I didn't know these rules before, but now I do. The fact that you felt the need to tell me this means you think I have a chance of winning. That alone makes me feel like I've already won half the battle."

The announcer eyed me suspiciously. I smiled and reassured him, "Don't worry. I agree to all the rules."

The crowd fell silent, watching me with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. He took my money and expanded the circle for the fight. The ground inside the ring was covered with an inch of ice.

"What's your name?" he asked.

I replied, "My name is Danny Ashford."

The crowd gasped, staring at me in astonishment. Ignoring their reactions, I stepped into the ring.

The announcer turned to the crowd. "People, today, a ram is about to hit an unknown mountain. Let's see if he succeeds. Place your bets now! If this boy wins, those who bet on him will receive forty times their wager!"

"The ram's head will surely break," a man in a black coat muttered. His words reached my ears, fuelling my determination. I searched for him in the crowd but could only make out his silhouette. It wasn't until much later that I realized he would become my mentor, a man of foresight. But at that moment, I was unaware of his significance.

The competition began.

Danny Ashford turned to me and roared fiercely. His dark skin appeared even darker as the evening light faded. He charged at me on all fours, grabbed me, spun me in the air twice, and slammed me into the ground. A mouthful of sand entered my throat, choking me. The pain was so intense that I felt as though my spine had shattered. The crowd erupted in cries. I feared I would lose consciousness. My vision blurred, and I struggled to locate Danny Ashford.

Tears welled in my eyes. A fleeting thought crossed my mind—why had I even entered this fight? But that doubt lasted only a moment. Danny Ashford approached me again, his legs moving deliberately. I forced myself to stand. He struck my chest four times, lifted me with one hand, and hurled me away. The crowd assumed I was finished. Danny Ashford, confident in his victory, turned to acknowledge their cheers.

I lay on the ground, uncertain of my next move.

"The ram's head will surely break," the words echoed in my mind once more. Summoning every ounce of strength, I forced myself to stand. Blood dripped from my nose and lips, soaking my face. I suspected that two of my teeth had loosened. The crowd fell into stunned silence as they watched me rise.

Danny Ashford turned, his wicked smile returning. He charged toward me with renewed fury. As he came within two steps, an idea struck me. Moving swiftly, I kicked him with all my strength just below his groin, precisely where his cloak was tied.

Danny Ashford had not expected the attack. He immediately clutched his cloak with both hands and doubled over in pain.