The blood of the arena

The gong rang out like a thunderclap.

Niran barely had time to move before Raksa was upon him.

The bear-man lunged forward with terrifying speed for someone his size. He wasn't just a brute, he was a beast trained for violence. His punch came down like a battering ram, and Niran dodged by mere millimeters. The air whistled past his face.

BOOM.

The floor cracked under the impact, sending shards of stone flying.

The crowd roared in excitement. The arena was nothing more than a cage of rusted metal bars, dimly lit so that shadows stretched and twisted across the walls. A place of sweat, blood, and dirty money.

Raksa turned back to him with a predatory grin. He wasn't frustrated at all.

"This guy is faster than I thought."

Niran steadied himself. If that punch had landed, it might have left him unable to fight.

Raksa attacked again.

He took a long step forward and threw an uppercut, a blow that looked strong enough to launch a man into the air. Niran leaped back, dodging by a hair's breadth.

But Raksa didn't stop. His body moved without hesitation, without fear, without regard for his own safety.

"Something is wrong with him."

Niran clenched his jaw. There was something off about this bastard.

A memory surfaced in Niran's mind.

Suda had warned him.

"The Leeches, the gang that Raksa is part of, don't fight like normal people," she had said with a bitter smile. "They have a secret that makes them perfect killing machines. They don't feel pain."

Niran had frowned. "What do you mean?"

"They implanted a genetically modified tapeworm. That thing latches onto their nervous system and alters pain signals. They can keep fighting even with broken bones. If you don't stop them immediately, they'll just crush you with brute force."

"And how do you stop them?"

"By breaking them apart."

Raksa didn't slow down.

He kept throwing punches without fear of injury, like a machine built purely for destruction. Niran switched strategies.

If he didn't feel pain, Niran had to attack in a way that restricted his movements.

The first kick targeted the left knee.

THUD.

The limb bent slightly, but Raksa didn't even flinch. Another kick. Another. Nothing.

"Damn it, that's not enough."

Plan two: the tendons.

Niran spun and struck with a precise elbow to the forearm muscles. If he weakened their ability to contract, Raksa's strength would drop.

CRACK.

Finally, some resistance. The bear-man's arm twitched involuntarily.

Raksa took a step back for the first time.

"It's working."

Niran pressed the attack, moving with surgical precision. He didn't try to overpower the beast, he aimed for weak spots instead.

Then, a mistake.

One of Raksa's punches barely missed him, but the second one didn't.

A devastating hook slammed into Niran's stomach.

Air was ripped from his lungs.

The world spun as his body was slammed into the ground with brutal force.

The crowd exploded in cheers and jeers.

Raksa laughed. He knew he had landed a good hit.

Niran tasted blood in his mouth.

Pain crashed over him like a wave, but he forced his body to move.

Raksa approached, ready to finish him off.

"If I don't react now, I'm done."

A sharp, cold voice echoed in his mind.

Sakchai.

"Now or never, kid. If you've got something big, use it."

Niran prepared himself.

He had to use everything he had.

His piercing elbow technique.

He had spent days training to accumulate calcium in his olecranon, hardening his elbow into a natural spear.

He had fifteen seconds to activate the technique.

He took a deep breath.

Raksa threw another punch.

Niran dodged.

Another strike. He dodged again.

The seconds passed. His body heated up.

Energy concentrated at the point of impact.

Raksa threw a final, brutal punch aimed at Niran's face.

Niran saw it in slow motion.

But this time, he didn't dodge.

Instead, he dashed forward.

As Raksa's punch came down, Niran struck first with his piercing elbow.

The crowd held its breath.

BOOM.

The impact echoed across the arena.

Raksa's massive fist never reached its target.

Instead, a sickening crack echoed through the arena.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then, blood.

It sprayed into the air in a crimson arc, and Raksa's body convulsed violently.

His face twisted, eyes wide in shock, as if his body hadn't registered what had just happened.

The crowd held its breath.

Had Niran won? Or…