Chapter 7: The Unexpected Fight and the Masked Blood King

Ali cruised down the streets on his bike, his mind still on the mysterious call he had received earlier. The city was its usual chaotic mess, and his thoughts were already shifting to the upcoming gang meeting when—

BAM!

Out of nowhere, a kid on a cycle zoomed into the street and crashed right into Ali's bike. The bike wobbled, and Ali barely managed to stop it before both of them tumbled to the ground.

"Are you blind or practicing for Dhoom 4?" Ali snapped, jumping off his bike to check on the kid, who was now sprawled on the pavement, looking dazed.

The kid, barely 10 years old, rubbed his head, sniffling. "I-I'm sorry, bhai! I didn't see you coming!"

Ali's tough-guy demeanor softened instantly. "Arey, it's fine. You okay?" He helped the kid to his feet, checking for any bruises. The kid had a small cut on his knee, but otherwise seemed fine.

"Where do you live? I'll drop you home," Ali offered, but the boy looked around nervously, avoiding eye contact.

"I… I don't have a home," the boy muttered quietly.

Ali's brows furrowed. "Yeh kya scene hai? Alright, come with me." Without waiting for the kid to respond, Ali hoisted him onto the back of the bike and sped toward his gang's hideout.

When they reached the hideout, Ali's core crew—Fatima, Bilal, and the rest of the ONI gang—were already waiting. They were huddled around a large table, surrounded by screens and maps, planning for the upcoming battle. But as soon as they saw Ali walk in with the kid, the serious mood broke.

"Bhai," Bilal started, eyeing the kid, "when did we start doing daycare services?"

Ali waved his hand dismissively. "This kid needs a doctor. Take him to Doc Malik and have him patched up."

Fatima nodded and ushered the boy away, while Ali turned his attention back to the table. "Alright, let's get to business."

As they settled in, the gang strategized. The other regional gang leaders had been restless, and tensions were boiling over across the city. The Arena International Combat Tournament was just 15 days away, and the stakes were higher than ever.

"The Gun Region has been stirring up trouble," Bilal reported, pointing to a map of the city. "Their vice leader's been getting out of hand ever since the real boss left the country."

Ali's face darkened under the dim lights. "We can't afford to get distracted before the tournament," he muttered.

"Who do we field in the first match?" Fatima asked, tapping her pen against the table. "We need to start strong, and that means—"

Suddenly, the door burst open, and one of their lookouts rushed in. "Bhai! We've got a situation! Gun Region's people are fighting in Sector 13. It's chaos out there."

Ali's eyes flashed with annoyance as he stood up. "Looks like they couldn't wait for the tournament."

Without a word, Ali grabbed his phone and dialed the Gun Gang leader. The call connected after a few rings.

"Ali?" The voice on the other side was calm.

"You've got a war brewing in Sector 13. You want to explain that?" Ali growled.

"I'm out of the country," the Gun leader replied, his tone indifferent. "I left the gang in the hands of my vice leader."

Ali's eyes narrowed. "Well, your vice leader is about to get a lesson in pain."

He hung up the phone and donned his signature ONI mask. 

Within minutes, Ali arrived at Sector 13. The scene was pure chaos. Members of both ONI and Gun Region gangs were throwing punches, smashing windows, and creating havoc. The vice leader of the Gun Region, a tall, cocky thug, was leading the charge.

The scene at the battle between Ali's crew and the Gun gang was chaotic, but Ali's entrance shifted the atmosphere. As he strode into the middle of the fight, his Oni mask gleaming under the dim streetlights, the chaos seemed to slow down. His presence demanded attention, and even the most aggressive fighters paused for a moment to glance at him. His presence was undeniable, and as soon as he moved, people started dropping like flies. His fighting style was fast, brutal, and efficient.

CRACK! One punch sent a Gun gang member flying into a parked car, leaving a huge dent.

Ali moved through the crowd, subduing members left and right. His fists were like sledgehammers, and in no time, he reached the vice leader, who was throwing a cocky grin his way. In the middle of the street, standing tall and exuding arrogance, was the vice leader of the Gun gang. The guy was hard to miss. He was dressed in a flashy leather jacket covered with studs, his hair styled in a sharp undercut with streaks of electric blue. He wore gold rings on each finger, and a smug grin stretched across his face as if he owned the whole city. His eyes were wild, reflecting the thrill of the fight seeing Ali approach, cracked his neck and let out a laugh. "Finally, the Blood King graces us with his presence. I was beginning to think you were scared."

Ali, his Oni mask hiding any reaction, remained silent. He wasn't here for a conversation.

"What's up, Blood king? Here to negotiate?"

The two circled each other for a moment before the vice leader made the first move. He charged forward, fists swinging with reckless abandon. Ali dodged the initial strikes with ease, moving like a shadow. His footwork was precise, every sidestep a calculated move.

The vice leader swung again, aiming a wild haymaker at Ali's head. Ali ducked under it, his movements fluid, and flicked his wrist, delivering a quick, light jab to the vice leader's ribs. The punch was soft, almost playful, and didn't even wind the guy, but it sent a clear message: Ali wasn't taking him seriously.

"You're gonna have to do better than that," Ali said, his voice calm and smooth, barely audible from under the mask.

The vice leader, irritated by Ali's relaxed demeanor, roared and charged again, this time with a flurry of punches. Ali deflected each one effortlessly, his movements so fast they were almost a blur. He dodged and weaved, making it look easy as if he were toying with his opponent.

The crowd watched, mesmerized by the contrast. The vice leader was throwing his full weight into the fight, while Ali danced around him, barely breaking a sweat. It was flashy, but not overly so—it was just enough to show that Ali was in control.

As the fight dragged on, Ali glanced at his watch.

He froze for a split second.

His eyes widened behind the mask. Oh no. He was late. Again.

The vice leader, seeing this momentary distraction, grinned and lunged at Ali, hoping to land a lucky blow. But Ali had already decided this fight had gone on long enough.

In one swift movement, Ali sidestepped the vice leader's punch and wound up for his own. Time seemed to slow as he pulled his arm back, muscles tensing, and in the next instant—BAM! Ali's fist slammed into the vice leader's jaw with devastating force. The impact sent the vice leader flying across the street like a ragdoll, his body crashing into a nearby wall. The force of the punch cracked the concrete upon impact, spiderwebs of fractures spreading from where the vice leader's body hit.

The whole street seemed to tremble for a moment, the cracking wall echoing like a thunderclap. The vice leader was out cold, slumped against the broken wall, his flashy outfit now covered in dust.

Ali stood in the middle of the street, lowering his fist, his breath steady as if he had barely exerted himself. He looked at the shattered wall for a moment, then pulled out his phone and dialed the Gun gang leader.

"Problem solved. We'll talk when you're back," Ali said, his tone cold and direct, before hanging up.

He glanced down at his watch again, eyes widening as he saw the time. "Crap! Sana's half-day!"

The fight was over before it even began.

He sped back on his bike, reaching the school just in time for Sana's half-day. She was standing there, arms crossed, her usual grumpy look in place.

"You're late," she snapped as she climbed onto the bike.

"Yeah, yeah. You're welcome," Ali replied, rolling his eyes as he revved the engine.

As they reached home, Ali parked the bike and they slipped inside, both acting like it was just another regular day. No one in the house knew that beneath Ali's casual exterior, he was the infamous Blood King, feared by gangs all over the city.

And with the tournament in just 15 days, things were about to get a whole lot more dangerous.

To be continued...