Sunday Afternoon – Downtown Apex Holdings HQ
The building screamed money, with glass windows that stretched to the clouds and a revolving door that rotated as if it had somewhere more important to be. A valet opened the car door before Carlos even stopped talking.
Inside was cooler, sharper, and had a carpet that probably cost more than my semester's tuition. There is artwork on the walls that looked like someone just slapped red on white and called it genius.
I don't understand, but I understand power, and this place reeked of it.
Carlos walked me through security like he owned the place. Maybe he did own the place.
"Listen, chico," he whispered as we waited for the elevator. "Jared Wren's not like the other man in suits. He came from underground, just like you. The only difference is, he learned how to make violence look respectable."
I raised an eyebrow. "So he's a wolf in a tuxedo?"
Carlos grinned. "No. He's a shark in Armani."
Executive Floor – Apex Penthouse Office
The elevator doors parted with a soft chime. The floor opened up into a panoramic skyline view. The sunlight pooled across the black marble.
Behind the desk stood a man in his mid-forties. Broad-shouldered, sharp suit with close-cropped silver hair, Jared Wren.
He didn't rise to greet us. He just waved us in.
"Kai Mendoza," he said, voice low, clear, and deep. "Please." he gestured towards the sofa.
I sat.
Carlos took a step back, like he'd just tossed me into a lion's den.
Wren folded his hands. "I watched your fight. You have a clean technique, but more importantly, your timing. You wait, then you strike efficiently."
I nodded. "Waiting is easy when you've died once."
A flicker of interest in his eyes. "They told me you were funny. That's good. You'll need that."
He tapped a sleek black tablet. "You know what Apex does?"
"Corporate investments and PR front for bigger, and uglier things."
He smiled faintly. "You're not wrong. We also fund athletes and fighters. We collect them like rare wine and use them when something gets... complicated."
He slid a contract across the desk.
"You'd be our exclusive combat representative. That means sponsorship, housing, and equipment, and when we need you, you'll fight on our behalf."
"And what do I get in return?"
"A base salary, bonuses per match, personal trainers, free press coverage, and a seat at the top table when you earn it."
"What if I say no?"
He didn't flinch. "Then we keep watching, maybe we circle back later, maybe we don't, but you only get one first offer."
I looked at the papers.
It got standard clauses, injury waivers, and media rights. They'd own my face, my fists, and everything I did inside a cage.
[VALKYRIE SYSTEM – BUSINESS MODULE INITIATED]
Sponsorship Opportunity Detected
Hidden Clause Detected: Buyout Limit at Tier D Recommended Negotiation: Remove Tier Lock, Include Training Autonomy
I tapped my finger on the clause.
"This here, the buyout lock. Tier D fighters can't leave or renegotiate. I want that gone."
Wren blinked. Not surprised—just impressed.
"And?"
"I want full control over my training team. I pick who trains me, not you."
He paused.
Then he smiled. Not wide, not warm, but a real one.
He reached for a pen.
"Done."
Later – Lobby of Apex Holdings
Carlos looked stunned. "He never gives in on Tier locks."
I shrugged. "He wants me to win, so he gave me room to grow."
Carlos grinned. "You just negotiated with a millionaire like you were buying candy."
"I've dealt with worse." I didn't say warlords, but he got the gist.
Evening – Back on Campus
Eli gawked at the signed contract. "Holy crap. You're actually official."
"They'll fund your housing, gear, travel stipends, and a nutritionist."
Jess leaned over the document. "This nutritionist better not replace my cooking."
"Not unless you stop bribing me with garlic butter shrimp."
She smirked. "Good answer."
The three of us shared pizza on the dorm roof, a warm breeze, laughter, and sunset melting over concrete.
For a moment, it didn't feel like I was juggling my past lives, cage fights, and shady deals.
It felt... normal.
But normal doesn't last.
Monday – Class Hallway
I was heading to psych class when a man in a crisp grey suit stopped me.
"Mr. Mendoza?"
"Who's asking?"
He flashed a card.
Grove & Finch – Legal Representatives of Blue Cross Motors
"Your first match under Apex's banner will be Friday night. Our client has a dispute with Wren's company over logistics rights."
"Let me guess. The board wants fists instead of courtrooms."
"Indeed."
He handed me a file. Profile of my opponent, photos, and stats.
"Curtis Lane – 6'2, 230 lbs, Freestyle Wrestling."
I whistled. "Big guy."
"Big lawsuit. If you win, Apex keeps the shipping lanes and if you lose..."
"Wren pays millions."
He nodded. "Gee, no pressure."
Training Begins – Apex Gym Complex
I'd never seen anything like it, a state-of-the-art facility with weighted floors, cryo chambers lined up like coffins, and an AI-assisted sparring dummies.
My private coach was already waiting.
She was barely five feet tall, but she moved like she could kill a man with a pen.
"Kai Mendoza," she said. "I'm Yuna, grappling specialist."
"You don't look like a wrestler."
She cracked her neck. "Good. Then you won't see it coming."
Training Montage
Yuna tossed me onto the mat. Again.
And again.
Every time I tried to power through, she punished my center of gravity. She showed me where I lacked balance and when I relied too much on brute force.
"Big guys like Curtis? They'll smother you. You need to stay low and mobile. Make him commit and then cut their base out from under them."
We drilled lateral sweeps, single-leg counters, and body lock escapes.
[VALKYRIE ANALYSIS – GRAPPLING SEQUENCE UNLOCKED]
Combo Chain Learned: "Shatter Flow" +20% Takedown Evasion / +15% Counter Throw Efficiency
Yuna clapped once. "Fifteen more, then ice bath."
I lay on the mat, gasping.
"You trying to kill me before the match?"
She grinned. "If I can't, Curtis won't."
Thursday Night – Dorm Rooftop Again
Jess found me tuning my guitar. The city lights blinked behind her.
"You nervous?"
"Always, but that doesn't mean I'll lose."
She sat beside me. "That lawyer guy said this fight determines a trade deal."
"Welcome to capitalism. Now we fight for contracts."
"And you? What do you fight for?"
I strummed a soft chord.
"I fight for control. Of my life. Of who I become."
Jess looked at me differently then.
Like she understood the weight.