The underground street fight club buzzed with energy. Dim red lights flickered above the ring like angry eyes, watching every movement. The crowd was already pumped, shouting, cheering, whistling at every bone-cracking punch that echoed through the hall. Somewhere in that chaotic noise, Harry stood outside the fighters' entrance, nervously stretching his limbs.
His breath was steady, but his heartbeat wasn't. He wore a faded grey hoodie with his delivery uniform underneath, the pizza shop logo barely visible anymore. Harry punched the air softly, trying to mimic the movements he'd seen on YouTube. Jab. Cross. Hook. Uppercut. Again. And again. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, but it wasn't just from the warm air.
He wasn't ready. But he had no other choice.
His mind wasn't in the present—it kept flashing back to his mom's worried face at breakfast, the unpaid bills on the table, and the $100 he had left in his account. Rent was due. Electricity too. And even though he told her he'd handle it, he was bluffing. This fight… this was his only way out.
Suddenly, a door creaked open behind him.
"Harry Kline, you're up next!" a burly man in a black cap shouted from inside the hall, his voice echoing with authority. "Let's go, kid."
Harry's stomach flipped. He wiped his palms on his jeans and exhaled slowly.
This is it. No turning back now.
He walked into the club, the air thick with sweat, smoke, and adrenaline. The crowd barely noticed him at first as he walked toward the ring. His steps were uncertain, and just as he passed by the audience seats, his foot caught the edge of a chair. His balance slipped. He stumbled then crashed to the ground.
A loud, mocking laugh erupted through the club.
"Ha! Look at this guy!"
"He tripped over a chair! We got ourselves a clown tonight!"
"He's dead meat. Go home, kid!"
Harry's cheeks burned red with humiliation. He slowly picked himself up, brushing dust off his knees. He didn't make eye contact with anyone, just walked straight into the ring and stood in the far-left corner. His hands gripped the ropes tightly. His legs felt like jelly. The lights above the ring blinded him for a second, adding to his dizziness.
He tried to steady his breath again, repeating the word in his mind: Focus… focus… focus…
But then the atmosphere changed.
A sudden cheer, louder than before, exploded in the club. It was so thunderous that the floor beneath Harry seemed to vibrate. The audience turned their eyes toward the entrance behind him.
And then he entered.
A tall, muscular man with a shaven head and tattoos across both arms walked down the aisle, cracking his knuckles and grinning like a predator. His presence demanded respect or fear. The crowd parted for him like waves before a storm. He didn't even glance at Harry. He just walked casually toward the ring, threw his hoodie to the side, and climbed in like he owned it.
Harry's blood ran cold.
It was the same guy he'd seen the day before the one who had effortlessly destroyed his opponent with brutal punches and a final knockout kick that left the man unconscious for minutes. Harry remembered thinking, God, I hope I never fight him.
But here he was. Fate had other plans.
The announcer stepped into the ring with a mic. His voice was filled with excitement.
"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we've got a special match for you! On the left corner… our reigning underground beast… undefeated in 17 fights… give it up for… ZANE 'The Hammer'!"
The crowd went wild. People shouted his name like he was a god of war.
"And on the right corner… making his debut in the ring… let's welcome… Harry Kline!"
This time, the crowd's reaction was mixed—some clapped, most laughed, others booed.
"Kid's gonna die," someone shouted.
Harry didn't move. He just stared at Zane. The guy looked like he could snap bones without breaking a sweat. Muscles coiled under his skin like live wires. His eyes were cold, almost bored. To him, Harry was just another rookie to crush.
The referee stepped between them. He looked Harry up and down, then spoke loudly.
"Alright fighters! Rules are simple—knockout or surrender. And remember, technically killing is not allowed…"
He paused, glanced at Zane, and added a smirk, "But accidents happen."
The crowd laughed. Zane chuckled too, cracking his neck.
Harry swallowed hard.
You've faced worse… he tried to convince himself. That man… the one who injected you during the car accident. That changed something. That punch on the wall… You're not normal anymore. You've changed. You're strong now.
He closed his eyes for a second.
Suddenly, in his mind's eye, he saw it again.
A flickering hologram—
[VisionOS Activated]
[Strength: Level 2]
His hands tingled with heat. A low hum buzzed inside his chest. He opened his eyes again. Something awakened within him. Maybe he couldn't win… but maybe he didn't have to lose either.
The bell rang.
DING!
The sound echoed across the underground fight club like a war cry. The dim lights flickered above the ring. Sweat, smoke, and the electricity of a blood-hungry crowd filled the air.
Before Harry could even take a proper stance Zane charged.
Like a beast let loose from a cage, the bulky fighter sprinted across the ring and slammed his entire body into Harry, sandwiching him against the turnbuckle with a bone-crushing thud.
"URGH!"
Pain shot through Harry's ribs like lightning. He gasped. His vision blurred. He'd barely stepped into the ring, and already his breath was being stolen from him.
Zane backed away, waving to the audience like a performer after a killer act. The crowd roared in approval, cheering for blood.
Harry dropped to one knee, clutching his side.
"Get up, loser!" someone yelled from the crowd.
"Go home, little boy!" another voice barked.
But Harry didn't fall completely. He gritted his teeth and forced himself up, pain biting into every muscle. His eyes narrowed. His fists clenched. He wouldn't back down not now.
He stumbled toward Zane and threw a couple of punches at his opponent's gut.
Thud. Thud.
Nothing.
Zane barely flinched. He looked down at Harry, smirked, then BOOM! grabbed him by the waist, lifted him clean off the ground, and hurled him across the ring like he was nothing but a rag doll.
CRACK!
Harry crashed into the opposite corner. His spine hit the metal post. The pain exploded through his body like fireworks.
The crowd erupted again. Zane raised both arms in mock celebration.
Harry coughed, tasting metal in his mouth. His legs trembled beneath him. The strength he felt yesterday was it even real?
But Zane wasn't done. Not by a long shot.
Like a predator smelling blood, he stalked toward Harry, grabbed him by the hair, and yanked him up to his feet.
"Let's give 'em a show," Zane snarled.
CRACK!
A punch to Harry's jaw.
THWACK!
Another to the temple.
SMACK!
And another, right to the nose.
Harry's head snapped back from the barrage. Blood sprayed from his lips and nose. His legs buckled, and Zane finally let go.
Harry collapsed onto the mat like a broken puppet.
"STAY DOWN!" someone screamed.
The referee slid in beside him and began the count.
"ONE!"
Harry's mind was spinning. Everything ached. He could hardly move.
"TWO!"
His ears rang. His heartbeat thundered. The lights above swirled in circles.
"THREE!"
Images started to flash before his eyes. Like ghosts made of light.
His mother, sitting at the kitchen table, stressed, unpaid bills spread out like a storm. Her face is tired, but hopeful.
"FOUR!"
His old phone—screen cracked, battery dying—buzzing with "final notice" messages.
"FIVE!"
And then—he saw it. That vision again. Like a hologram glowing inside his mind. The same one from the alley after the injection. But clearer now. Stronger.
It wasn't just a hallucination—it was a memory waking up.
"SIX!"
He saw himself standing tall. Fighting. Winning. A version of himself he'd never dared to believe in.
"SEVEN!"
Harry's hand twitched. His breath steadied.
He pushed himself off the mat.
His legs wobbled. His shoulder screamed in agony. But he stood.
The crowd gasped.
Even Zane raised an eyebrow, looking mildly impressed. Or annoyed.
Harry lifted his chin. Blood trickled down his nose. But his eyes were locked.
Something was different now.
He wasn't just standing. He was aware.
As Zane approached again, cocky and confident, Harry's vision slowed. Every movement from Zane felt predictable as if his body was reacting before his brain could even decide.
Zane threw a punch.
Harry ducked it, smoothly.
Another jab.
Harry weaved left, just inches away from getting hit.
Another swing.
This time Harry blocked it.
Then, with a deep breath, he snapped forward, shoved Zane hard with both arms.
Zane stumbled, caught off guard, and fell back into the opposite corner of the ring.
The crowd was stunned.
Zane's smirk dropped.
He stood, cracking his knuckles, eyes now filled with something colder rage.
He charged at Harry, fists raised, a full on bull run with the intent to destroy.
But Harry was ready.
For the first time tonight, he wasn't surviving.
He was fighting.
As Zane charged forward with a wild punch Harry twisted, used the opponent's own momentum, and with every bit of energy, launched a punch straight to Zane's face.
CRACK!
The sound echoed through the entire club.
Zane's head whipped back. His knees buckled.
Then he flew backward and crashed out of the ring, rolling into the chairs outside the ropes. The crowd leapt to their feet in shock.
The announcer stared, speechless.
Zane groaned but didn't get up.
10 seconds passed.
Silence.
Then a single shout from the crowd: "HE WON!"
The referee rushed to Harry, raised his bruised hand in the air.
"Winner by Knockout Harry!!"
The crowd exploded into chaos. Cheers, disbelief, boos from Zane's fans but none of it mattered.
Harry was still panting, barely standing. Blood on his face. Knuckles swollen. But something inside him was glowing.
He did it.
He won.
Harry didn't respond. He was still stunned still soaking in what had just happened.
He walked off the stage, the cheering fading into the background.
But deep down, one thought echoed louder than anything else.
I'm not the same anymore."
Then red hologram floating in air
[VisionOs Activated]
[Strength Level: 3]
[Congratulations you fight with a strong opponent and win .]