The Underground Tournament

The evening of the battle came sooner than Noah had anticipated.

Warehouse 13 was on the outskirts of the city, vacant and overlooked by everyone—save for those who lived in the darkness. As soon as he entered, the atmosphere shifted. The smell of sweat, adrenaline, and anticipation hung in the air. A group had already formed around a ring made of crates in the middle.

Fighters, gamblers, and students at Whispering Pines High hushed to one another, their gazes darting towards the stranger.

They know who I am.

Noah's fists were clenched. He felt the burden of their gazes. He was no longer some ordinary kid. He was the kid who beat up Ryan Miller and lived.

And now they wanted to test if he could do it once more.

---

The First Fight

A loud voice boomed in the warehouse.

"New challenger emerges tonight. Let's see if he has what it takes!"

The audience applauded as a man approached.

Noah appraised him instantly.

He was big, wide-shouldered, and had a coat of scars covering his skin. His knuckles were taped, and the way he stood gave Noah all he needed to know—a brawler, someone who liked to annihilate his enemies through sheer power.

System Notification:

[Opponent Identified: Greg "The Crusher" Wallace]

[Strength: 18 | Agility: 12 | Endurance: 15]

Noah's heart was racing. Those numbers were crazy.

His own were still way lower.

But he wasn't the same wimp anymore.

The bell sounded.

Greg charged at him like a bull.

Noah dodged by mere inches, feeling the whoosh of air as a huge fist whizzed past his face. Too close.

The crowd erupted as Greg swung again.

Noah dodged the punch and struck back with a quick jab to Greg's ribs. It landed—but barely caused the larger man to react.

Greg chuckled. "That all you got, kid?"

Noah clenched his teeth. He's too powerful to defeat with conventional attacks.

He needed a plan.

---

Adapting on the Fly

Greg attacked again, landing a crushing right hook.

Noah's focus improved.

Dodge. Step forward. Counter.

He sidestepped just in time and launched a sharp kick to Greg's knee.

CRACK!

Greg staggered, his leg buckling slightly.

That's it.

Noah wasn't going to beat this guy with brute force. But if he could keep attacking the same spot, he could break him down.

Greg growled, recovering quickly. "You're dead."

He swung wildly, anger fueling his attacks.

Noah dodged left. Then right.

He moved with speed and precision.

The crowd murmured.

He's fast.

Noah smirked. "What's wrong? Can't keep up?"

Greg bellowed in frustration.

Another attack. Another dodge.

Then—Noah attacked again.

His foot crashed into Greg's wounded knee.

Greg grunted in pain. He stumbled.

Noah took his opportunity.

---

The Finishing Move

With every ounce of strength he had, Noah launched himself forward—a spinning kick directly to Greg's jaw.

BAM!

Greg's head reeled back. His huge body swayed—

And then fell to the floor.

The warehouse was silent for a moment.

Then—an eruption of cheers.

Noah towered over his defeated foe, gasping.

He had won.

System Notification:

[Victory Achieved!]

[Strength +2]

[New Passive Skill: Combat Instinct (Increases reaction time by 10%)]

Noah's fingers tingled as he could feel the power coursing through him.

He was becoming stronger.

But then—

A slow clap rang out across the warehouse.

Noah turned.

At the ring's edge, standing there with an expression that was impossible to read—

Ryan Miller.

His smirk gave Noah the shivers.

"Well, well," Ryan said. "Looks like you might actually be worth something after all."

Noah's stomach twisted.

Because Ryan wasn't here to observe.

He was here to make sure Noah understood—this fight was only the start.

---

Noah's breathing remained harsh as he exited the ring. His whole body hurt from the battle, but the euphoria of triumph dominated the ache. The sound of the cheering crowd still rang in his head, but his attention was focused on one individual.

Ryan Miller.

The school's best fighter was at the warehouse door, observing Noah with calculating, sharp eyes. His arms were folded, and a smirk danced at his lips. It wasn't the smug smile of someone superior to him. No, it was worse.

It was interest.

Xander stepped up beside Noah, his golden eyes darting toward Ryan before returning to him. "You impressed some people tonight."

Noah's hold on his sweat-drenched shirt tightened. "And him?" He gestured toward Ryan.

Xander's grin spread. "Especially him."

The crowd filtered out, but some fighters lingered, their gazes full of curiosity.

"Who is this kid?" someone grumbled.

"The guy who fought Ryan and lived," another whispered.

Noah's fists curled. Lived. That's all they perceived him as. Not a victor. Not a true threat. Just a guy who didn't die.

Yet.

Ryan finally pushed off the wall and made his way toward Noah. The other fighters instinctively stepped aside, giving him space. It was clear—Ryan wasn't just strong. He commanded respect.

"You've got potential," Ryan said, stopping a few feet from Noah. "But you're nowhere near ready."

Noah straightened his sore body. "For what?"

Ryan's smirk grew. "For the real fights."

Noah narrowed his eyes. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Xander let out a sigh. "It means you're not finished, Noah. The Underground Tournament doesn't accept just anyone. One victory isn't sufficient."

Noah swallowed. "So how many do I have to have?"

Ryan folded his arms. "Three."

---

The Path to the Tournament

Xander rubbed his hand through his hair. "There's a tiered system. Three bouts. Three victories. Only then will you be able to compete for an official position in the Underground Tournament."

Noah scowled. "And if I lose?"

Ryan's smirk vanished. "Then you don't belong here."

The pressure of those words weighed on Noah's chest. No second chance. No retry.

"Who's next?" Noah asked.

Xander laughed. "Eager, aren't we?"

Ryan, though, didn't smile. He just turned and began walking away. "Tomorrow night. Warehouse 9."

Noah blinked. "That soon?"

Ryan didn't pause. "If you're serious, you'll be there."

Noah exhaled slowly.

Tomorrow. Another battle. Another challenge.

The System's alert appeared before him.

[New Quest: Win Your Second Underground Fight]

[Time Limit: 24 Hours]

Noah let out a sharp breath. He had no other option.

He needed to be prepared.

---

Training for the Next Fight

Xander and Noah exited Warehouse 13 and headed towards an abandoned lot behind a rundown boxing gym. It was late, but Xander wasn't going to let Noah sleep.

"You won that fight because you were smart," Xander said, snapping a water bottle at Noah. "You learned Greg's weaknesses. But your technique? Sloppy."

Noah frowned. "I still won."

Xander rolled his eyes. "Barely." He cracked his knuckles. "Now let's correct that."

The next several hours were merciless.

Xander drilled Noah on footwork, making him dodge punches without returning any of his own. If Noah flubbed—Xander hit him. Hard.

"Faster."

Thud. A punch cracked into Noah's ribs.

"Again."

Smack. A quick jab to his shoulder.

Noah clamped his jaws together, trying to get his body to respond faster, to react quicker. His breathing thickened, sweat running down his face.

Then—he saw it.

Xander's punch. The way his muscles coiled a fraction of a second before he acted. The slight change in his stance.

Noah dodged. Cleanly.

Xander smiled. "There it is."

System Notification:

[New Passive Skill: Prediction (Increases ability to read opponents' attacks)]

Noah barely had time to register the message before Xander struck again. This time, Noah dodged even smoother.

Xander's smile widened. "Now you're learning."

---