The Final Clash – Harry vs. John

The night before the final.

The locker room echoed with silence. Fluorescent lights hummed above, casting a cold glow on Harry's face. He sat alone on the wooden bench, hunched forward, eyes locked onto his bruised knuckles.

They weren't bruised from being beaten.

They were bruised from holding back.

A shallow breath escaped him as he stared at his reflection in the wall-mounted mirror. His reflection looked back calm on the outside, but inside? A war. A storm. A choice.

He closed his eyes.

"I won't let it control me. Not unless I have to."

Suddenly, the loudspeakers crackled.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the FINAL MATCH of the National Inter-College Fight Tournament! Tonight two warriors stand before destiny! In the red corner, the undefeated titan JOHN CARTER! And in the blue corner… the rising underdog… HARRY!"

The crowd exploded into a frenzy, chants of names echoing through the packed stadium like thunder. Harry stood slowly, cracked his neck, and slipped on his gloves.

This was it.

Time to find out what happens when an unstoppable force meets something even stronger.

Round 1

The arena was a storm of light and sound. The ring lights beamed down like the eye of God, and in that circle stood two titans Harry and John. The referee signaled. The bell rang.

DING!

In an instant, both fighters charged, fists flying like lightning. The sound of fists colliding with flesh echoed across the arena. Neither held back. Blow after blow, the crowd couldn't believe what they were seeing—pure, unfiltered aggression. It was less of a match and more of a war.

Harry ducked a right hook, landed a body shot. John retaliated with a brutal left elbow. Blood, sweat, and adrenaline filled the air. The two locked arms, struggling for dominance.

"Break!" the referee shouted, pushing them apart. Both backed away, panting heavily, their eyes locked like two wolves circling before a kill.

They began pacing slowly, studying. Strategizing.

Then suddenly, John spun, leapt, and delivered a perfect spinning side kick straight to Harry's face.

THWACK!

The impact sent Harry down to one knee, dazed. The buzzer rang.

End of Round 1.

The crowd went wild. John raised his fist. Harry lowered his head.

Round 2

The break lasted 30 seconds.

Both fighters stood in opposite corners. John chugged his energy drink, eyes never leaving Harry. Harry wiped the blood from his lip, calm but burning inside.

DING! Round two began.

John didn't wait.

Like a missile, he launched himself forward, leaped, and landed a brutal haymaker across Harry's cheek. The world tilted. Harry's vision blurred. Everything looked distant, foggy. The lights became halos. Sounds became echoes.

He tried to swing but his punch missed. Wind.

John grinned.

He smelled blood.

Taking full advantage, John unleashed a vicious flurry fists slamming into Harry's ribs, chest, stomach, jaw. No mercy. No space to breathe. Harry stumbled, then collapsed to the mat like a felled tree.

"He's down! Harry is down!"

The referee began to count. "ONE… TWO…"

Harry lay motionless.

"THREE… FOUR…"

He could hear the crowd now cheering. But not for him. They were chanting John's name.

"FIVE… SIX…"

He wasn't out. Just... dazed.

"SEVEN…"

He could hear someone laughing. Maybe John. Maybe the crowd.

"EIGHT… NINE..."

Harry's eyes snapped open. He pushed himself up, wobbling on shaky knees. He was up. Barely.

The crowd gasped.

The bell rang.

End of Round 2.

Final Round

John: 50 points.

Harry: 20 points.

Everyone watching knew the truth Harry had almost no chance now.

Commentators speculated. Fans whispered. Some laughed.

But Harry… knew something they didn't.

He could win.

He could end it in seconds if he used the full strength . But there was a cost. If he lost control… he might break every bone in John's body.

And Harry? He wasn't a killer.

But he wasn't a loser either.

The final round began. DING!

John smirked. He knew Harry's eye was swollen. His movements blurred. So he changed tactics darting unpredictably, hitting from different angles. Jabbing. Sidestepping. Hitting again.

Harry couldn't see clearly.

But he could feel.

He let the punches come. One to the ribs. Another to the jaw. Then the shoulder.

He didn't block.

He didn't fight back.

John hesitated. Confused.

Why wasn't Harry defending?

That was when Harry saw it. The gap.

John, confident and relentless, had stopped defending himself. He had grown used to hitting without consequence.

And that... was his mistake.

Harry clenched his fist.

Golden heat surged through his veins not full transformation, just enough. Controlled. Focused.

He ducked a punch.

Then...

BAM!

An uppercut. From hell.

Harry's fist connected with John's jaw with a crack like thunder. The force lifted John off his feet, launching him into the air. His body smashed against the ring post, then crumpled to the mat.

Silence.

The crowd was frozen.

The referee ran.

"ONE… TWO… THREE…"

John's fingers twitched.

"FOUR… FIVE…"

He tried to get up.

"SIX…"

He fell.

"SEVEN… EIGHT…"

He tried again. Crawled.

"NINE…"

Staggered. Reached.

"TEN!"

"It's OVER! HARRY WINS!"

Aftermath Shock and Silence

The arena exploded into chaos.

Some fans screamed in disbelief. Some cheered wildly. Others stood in silence.

John lay on the ground, dazed, eyes wide in shock. He'd never been hit like that before. Never felt fear in a fight. Until now.

Harry stood above him, breathing heavily, eyes glowing ever so faintly.

Commentators shouted over each other.

"That was… insane!"

"Did you SEE that punch?!"

"Where did Harry find that strength?!"

The referee raised Harry's hand.

"WINNER – BY KNOCKOUT – HARRY!"

But deep inside Harry knew this wasn't the real fight.

This was just the beginning.

The roar of the crowd still echoed in Harry's ears as he stepped out of the ring.

"Harry! Harry! Harry!"

The entire stadium was chanting his name like a war cry.

His chest heaved with exhaustion, his body sore and trembling from the brutal match but his eyes? They were shining. Victory wasn't just a trophy this time it was redemption. From a nobody to the National Inter-College Fight Tournament Champion, Harry had just rewritten his story in front of thousands.

As he stepped off the arena stage, dozens of students and even teachers from his college swarmed around him, clapping him on the back, raising their phones for selfies, screaming his name like he was a superstar.

"Bro, that last punch!"

"John literally flew like a rag doll!"

"Champion! You're the real deal, Harry!"

He smiled politely, waving, shaking hands, but he didn't stay long. He wasn't used to attention not yet. Not after being called a loser for years.

He walked quietly toward the locker room, bruised but proud, his footsteps echoing in the hallway like a victory march. His fingers were sore as he peeled off the gloves. His knuckles, still red and swelling slightly, ached every time he flexed them. He changed into his casual clothes, wiping his face with a towel, looking once in the mirror. His reflection showed more than just a fighter it showed someone who had finally proved himself.

For the first time in years, Harry smiled at the guy staring back at him.

Outside the stadium, a small group of fans still waited.

"Harry! One selfie, please!"

"Hey, sign this, man!"

He gave a few autographs, took some quick selfies, then quietly slipped away and walked toward the bus stand. The cold night air hit his face, but it felt good. Fresh. Clean. Like something had been washed off his soul.

As he walked the quiet lanes toward his home, the reality began to settle in he had won. Not just for himself, but for his college. The trophy. The respect. The prize money. Everything.

He couldn't wait to tell his mother.

But when he finally reached home and unlocked the front door, the flat was silent.

He stepped inside, setting the gym bag near the shoe rack.

"Mom?" he called out.

No response.

He glanced at the kitchen no cooking smell. No lights.

He tried calling her phone.

Ringing… ringing… voicemail.

He frowned, but not with worry. This wasn't the first time. His mother often worked late-night shifts at the hospital. Sometimes emergencies kept her away. Sometimes she just forgot to text.

He sighed and walked into his room.

That's when it happened again.

The moment he shut the door behind him, a hum filled the air a soft vibration, like electricity crackling invisibly.

His heart didn't race this time.

A familiar blue light flickered in front of his eyes. Floating in mid-air, like a hologram.

[VisionOS: Activated]

[Strength Level: 4]

[Congratulations. You have defeated multiple opponents. However, your challengers were below your true potential.]

[Future Recommendation: Engage stronger enemies to unlock higher abilities.]

Harry blinked.

"Of course," he muttered with a smirk, pulling off his shoes. "Knew you'd show up."

This wasn't the first time. After every serious fight, especially one where he pushed his limits, this VisionOS would activate like a built-in AI in his brain

Harry lay back on his bed, eyes tracing the ceiling. His body ached all over. He could still feel the sting of John's punches. His right eye was a little swollen, his ribs tender, but he didn't care.

What mattered was the crowd's chant. The trophy. The way people looked at him now.

Not a loser anymore.

Still, that final punch… the one he landed on John… it wasn't full strength. It was only a glimpse.

If he had really used his full power…

No.

He shook the thought away.

He didn't want to hurt people.

He didn't want to become a monster.

The VisionOS said his opponents were weak compared to him. That wasn't their fault. Harry had something… more. Something unnatural. A gift or a curse he hadn't decided yet.

But what now?

Was he supposed to keep fighting? Keep leveling up? Against who? How far would it go?

And who was the scientist really?

What kind of experiment had Harry been dragged into?

His phone buzzed texts flooded in from classmates.

"Bro you're trending!"

"You're literally a meme already. That John punch is everywhere!"

"Somebody made a remix with your final punch, lol."

Harry smiled faintly. Fame was weird. But nice.

Then his smile faded a little.

He turned his phone off and lay still.

In the silence, only one thing echoed in his mind:

What happens next?

Because every time the VisionOS appeared, he felt like something bigger was waiting.

A bigger fight.

A bigger threat.

And maybe… an even bigger truth.