Chapter 36: A World Beyond Wealth

Jackim dragged his aching body back to his rented apartment. His limbs felt like they had been torn apart and hastily put back together. Every muscle throbbed from the relentless beating he had endured underground.

Yet, as he collapsed onto his worn-out mattress, a strange feeling bubbled beneath the pain.

Excitement.

He had never been the strongest, the fastest, or the most skilled. But tonight, something had shifted. He had glimpsed a path beyond money and status. A world where true strength reigned.

And he wanted it.

---

The next morning, Jackim awoke to a sharp knock on his door.

He groaned, dragging himself upright. His body screamed in protest.

Another knock. This time, more insistent.

Jackim swung open the door.

A tall man in a crisp white suit stood outside, his face unreadable. Behind him, a sleek black car idled, its tinted windows concealing whoever was inside.

The man handed Jackim an envelope. "You are expected."

Jackim frowned. "By who?"

The man didn't answer.

Jackim hesitated before tearing open the envelope. Inside was a single gold card with an embossed emblem—a phoenix rising from the ashes.

His pulse quickened.

He had seen that symbol before.

Madam X.

Jackim's eyes darted to the car. "Where are we going?"

The man finally smirked. "To a place where your name means nothing… but your strength means everything."

Jackim exhaled slowly, stepping into the car.

The doors shut.

And his world shifted once more.

---

Jackim had expected a private meeting, maybe another underground chamber like before.

He was wrong.

The car pulled up before an opulent estate hidden behind towering stone walls. The iron gates swung open silently as they entered.

Inside, a sprawling mansion loomed ahead. But it wasn't the house that stole Jackim's breath.

It was the people.

Men and women dressed in elegant black and crimson attire stood in clusters across the vast courtyard. Some sipped champagne. Others moved with a quiet, predatory grace, their eyes scanning the surroundings as if assessing threats.

And then there were the fighters.

Scattered among the wealthy elite, men and women with bodies honed into weapons stood with silent confidence. Their gazes were sharp, their postures relaxed yet deadly.

Jackim swallowed.

This was no ordinary gathering.

This was a meeting of the powerful.

The car door opened, and the man in the white suit gestured for Jackim to step out.

Every eye in the courtyard turned toward him.

Jackim forced himself to keep his expression neutral. He had been looked down upon his whole life. He was used to it.

But this was different.

Here, they weren't mocking him.

They were sizing him up.

---

Jackim barely had time to take it all in before a voice called out from the crowd.

"Well, well. The new boy finally arrives."

Jackim turned toward the voice.

A young man, no older than twenty-three, strode toward him. He was dressed in an immaculately tailored black suit, but his stance carried the unmistakable arrogance of someone who had never lost a fight in his life.

Jackim felt it immediately.

Danger.

The man smirked. "I was told someone… interesting would be joining us tonight." He tilted his head. "But I must say, I'm disappointed."

Jackim remained silent.

The young man chuckled, stepping closer. "What's the matter? Lost your tongue?"

Jackim met his gaze. "I just don't see a reason to waste my breath on nobodies."

A hush fell over the crowd.

The young man's smirk faded.

And then he laughed.

Loud. Sharp.

The sound cut through the night air like a blade.

"Oh," he mused, eyes gleaming with amusement. "I like you."

Then, without warning, he struck.

---

Jackim barely had time to react before a fist shot toward his face.

Instinct took over. He dodged, barely missing the strike. The wind from the punch grazed his cheek.

Fast.

Too fast.

Before he could recover, the young man spun, aiming a kick at Jackim's ribs.

Jackim lifted his arm to block, but the force sent him skidding backward. His breath hitched from the impact.

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

The young man grinned. "Come on. Show me what you've got, lottery boy."

Jackim exhaled sharply. He had no choice. He couldn't afford to hesitate.

He charged.

His fist flew toward his opponent's face. The young man sidestepped easily, but Jackim had anticipated it.

He twisted, using the momentum to drive his knee upward.

This time, he connected.

The young man stumbled back, his smirk fading. He touched his lip—blood.

The crowd murmured.

Jackim didn't wait. He followed up with another strike.

The young man blocked, countering with a swift elbow aimed at Jackim's jaw.

Jackim ducked, sweeping his leg low.

The young man leaped over the attack effortlessly, landing with grace.

They stood there, breathing heavily, eyes locked.

And then…

The young man grinned. "Not bad."

Jackim straightened. He didn't know what had just happened, but something had changed.

The young man stepped forward, extending a hand. "My name is Adrian Leclair."

Jackim hesitated before shaking it.

Adrian's grip was strong. "Welcome to the real world, Jackim."

The crowd erupted into applause.

Jackim glanced around, realizing something.

This wasn't just a fight.

It was an initiation.

And he had passed.