Chapter 82 : The One Punch Devil

Dirga stepped into the ring.

The air was dry, laced with smoke and the faint scent of metal and blood. The Gemspire Ring's sixth arena wasn't packed, but a respectable crowd had gathered—bored gamblers, veterans looking for easy coin, and a few scouts with sharp eyes.

From the stands, Optik was already working the crowd like a well-oiled machine.

"Come on, people, ten-to-one odds on the newcomer! First-timer against a ranker with poison blades! Easy cash!"

He smiled like a devil in a suit—sleek, professional, hungry.

Dirga ignored the noise. His boots touched the tiled surface of the arena floor—runed stone that hummed faintly with Zarion. His black jacket fluttered as he came to a stop at the center. The Crimson Core buzzed faintly beneath his back, calm but alive.

Then his opponent stepped in.