Baptism by Fire

The first punch came before Jasper even made it to his cell.

A burly man with tattooed arms lunged at him the moment the guards let go. Jasper barely had time to react before a fist crashed into his gut, sending him sprawling onto the cold concrete floor.

Laughter echoed around him as the other inmates watched, entertained by the fresh meat being broken in.

"Welcome to Blackridge, rookie," the attacker sneered. "You either fight back, or you're a walking corpse."

Jasper gasped for air, his mind racing. He had never been in a real fight before, but instinct screamed at him to move. As the man reached for him again, Jasper twisted and lashed out with his foot, catching the thug's knee.

A grunt of pain. A stumble. But it wasn't enough.

The next blow sent Jasper's head snapping back. His vision blurred, stars exploding behind his eyes. Blood dripped from his lip as he collapsed to the floor again.

"Enough."

A deep voice cut through the commotion, and the crowd instantly went silent.

A massive figure stepped forward. Bald, scarred, and built like a tank, he radiated dominance. The attacker hesitated, then backed off immediately. Jasper's head pounded as he tried to focus on the newcomer.

"Mark Clarin," someone whispered in awe. "The King of Blackridge."

Mark looked down at Jasper, his face unreadable. "You're weak," he said. "But not spineless."

Jasper forced himself to sit up. "I won't die in this place."

Mark smirked. "Then you'd better learn fast. Stand up."

Jasper hesitated before pushing himself to his feet, swaying but refusing to fall. Mark studied him for a moment, then nodded.

"Meet me in the yard tomorrow," Mark said. "I'll show you how to survive."

And just like that, he walked away, leaving Jasper standing there, battered but alive.

He wasn't sure if Mark Clarin was a savior or another devil in disguise.

But if he wanted to get stronger, he had no choice but to follow.