Chapter 25: Blood and Recognition

The underground arena still pulsed with the energy of the fight. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and blood, and Jackim's ears rang from the cheers that had followed his victory. He had won. But as he stepped out of the pit, his body felt the weight of every strike he had taken. His ribs ached, his knuckles throbbed, and his face was still warm from the hit that nearly knocked him out.

Despite the pain, he felt something else—something new.

A taste of power.

For the first time, he had stood in a place where only the strong mattered, and he wasn't the one being looked down on. For the first time, he was respected.

---

As Jackim walked back through the narrow corridors of the underground arena, Han leaned against the wall, waiting for him. He tossed Jackim a cold towel.

"Not bad for your first fight," Han said, his tone unreadable.

Jackim wiped the sweat and blood from his face. "You could've warned me that guy was built like a damn mountain."

Han smirked. "Would it have changed anything?"

Jackim sighed. Probably not.

Han's expression darkened slightly as he folded his arms. "You fought well, kid. But don't let this win make you arrogant. One victory in this place is nothing. Out there, in the real world, there are monsters—people who would crush you like an ant without even breaking a sweat."

Jackim met his gaze, determination burning in his eyes. "Then I'll just get stronger."

Han studied him for a long moment, then let out a quiet chuckle. "Good. Because this was just your first step. If you survive long enough, you might actually become someone worth fearing."

Jackim didn't flinch.

That was exactly what he intended to do.

---

Word Spreads

The next day, the whispers had already begun.

A no-name kid, a complete nobody, had stepped into the underground arena and taken down a seasoned fighter in his debut match. Some laughed, thinking it was just beginner's luck. Others paid attention.

Even in school, Jackim could feel it. Some of his classmates who usually ignored him suddenly seemed curious. Some of the rich kids sneered even harder, as if sensing a threat they didn't want to acknowledge.

But Jackim didn't care about any of them.

All that mattered was the next fight.

---

That evening, Jackim walked alone through the dimly lit streets, his thoughts replaying the fight over and over. He had won, but he had also made mistakes—mistakes that could have gotten him killed against a stronger opponent.

He needed to improve.

But just as that thought crossed his mind, he felt it.

A presence.

Someone was following him.

Jackim didn't stop walking, but he shifted his pace slightly, his instincts sharpening. The presence wasn't just watching him. It was closing in.

At the next turn, he deliberately stepped into a quieter alleyway. If they wanted to follow him, they would have to reveal themselves.

Jackim turned sharply, his fists already clenching—only to see a figure standing at the other end of the alley, half-hidden in the shadows.

The man was young, dressed in dark martial robes. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes—sharp and unreadable—were locked onto Jackim like a predator studying its prey.

"You're Jackim Jackson," the man said. It wasn't a question.

Jackim's pulse quickened. This guy wasn't a random thug. He was different. Dangerous.

Jackim narrowed his eyes. "Who's asking?"

The man smirked. "You made quite the impression last night. But you're still weak."

Jackim's fists clenched. He was tired of hearing that word. Weak. He had spent his whole life being called weak.

"You want to test that theory?" Jackim challenged.

The man took a slow step forward. Jackim felt it instantly—a shift in the air. This wasn't just arrogance. The man had an aura about him, something that made the very space around him feel heavier.

"I could break you right now," the man said calmly. "But I won't. Because you're not worth my time."

Jackim gritted his teeth. His body was sore, exhausted from the fight last night, but something inside him refused to back down.

The man smirked again. "Not yet, at least. But keep training, because when I do fight you…"

His voice dropped, cold and certain.

"I won't go easy on you."

Then, without another word, he turned and disappeared into the night.

Jackim stood there, his breath unsteady.

He didn't know who that man was, but one thing was clear—this was only the beginning.

The path to power was getting more dangerous.

And Jackim wasn't going to stop walking it.

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