Bridge didn't breathe until he was past the last door to enter a waiting room exclusively for each competitor.
The moment the roar of the crowd cut off—snuffed out like someone slamming a door on a raging storm—his entire body folded. His knees hit the floor with a dull thud, and the breath he'd been holding escaped in a strangled, shaking gasp.
Cold. Ruthless. Strong. Confident. Dominant.
That was the version of him who walked out there.
This version? The one now bent over the cold stone, arms trembling under his own weight?
This version was the truth.
"Holy… stars…" he wheezed, fingers digging into the ground as if he needed to anchor himself in reality. "…That was… that was the hardest one yet."
His vision turned dark at the edges. Sweat dripped down his jaw, trailing along bruises that darkened by the second. Even with his regeneration working at full tilt, he felt like every muscle in his body had spent the match screaming profanities at him.
