The news Barnaby had brought weighed heavily on Youri's mind, sinking deep and refusing to let go. Volar. Liam. Emma. The thought of losing them—of losing the planet itself—clung to him like a shadow. But tonight wasn't a night he could afford to unravel. Too many people had placed their faith, their money, and their expectations on him. Backing out now wasn't an option. Not in Las Peas. Not in this world.
So he swallowed it down.
Youri and Leo arrived at the underground tunnels beneath the city, where the air grew colder and heavier with every step. The sound of the crowd seeped through the concrete—muffled roars, metallic echoes, the hum of anticipation. This place always felt alive, like a beast waiting to be fed.
Toney was standing at the betting stand, stacks of chips and digital screens flashing numbers in front of him. The moment he spotted them, his eyes widened.
"Hey! You two!" he shouted, waving frantically. "Wait up—I gotta talk to you about something!"
Youri and Leo exchanged a brief look but kept walking, pushing through the metal door into the locker room. Inside, the noise dulled, replaced by the familiar scent of sweat, antiseptic, and iron. Youri sat down in front of his locker and began wrapping his hands in silence, his movements precise and mechanical. This ritual usually calmed him. Tonight, it barely helped.
The door swung open and Toney rushed in, breathless.
"Hey, Kronos," he said, lowering his voice. "Why didn't you tell me you've got ties with the Terrian military?"
Youri paused mid-wrap and looked up sharply. "What are you talking about?"
Toney jabbed a thumb toward the exit. "That man out there. Sitting in the stands near the octagon. That's a high-ranking Terrian uniform, kid—and he just placed a bet on you."
Youri stood abruptly and pushed past him. His eyes locked onto the stands.
Barnaby.
Calm. Composed. Watching.
Anger flared instantly. Youri slammed his locker shut with a violent clang and stormed toward the stands. The crowd barely noticed as he marched up to Barnaby, stopping directly in front of him.
"Who told you about this place?" Youri demanded.
Barnaby looked up at him, unfazed, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "The streets are talking. Big night like this? Not hard to follow the noise once you know where to listen."
Youri clenched his jaw. "Enjoy the show," he said coldly, turning his back.
As he walked away, Barnaby spoke again. "One more thing."
Youri stopped.
"Do you remember the last offer I made to you?" Barnaby asked.
Youri turned slowly.
"It still stands," Barnaby continued. "And it might be your ticket to where you really want to go."
Youri didn't respond. He turned and walked away, leaving Barnaby seated, watching him disappear into the tunnel.
Moments later, the lights around the octagon dimmed slightly as Toney stepped into the ring. He raised his hands, his voice booming through the speakers.
"Gentlemen," he began, turning in a slow circle, "tonight is a special night!"
The crowd roared in response.
"Tonight, we have a rematch between two of the most promising fighters this arena has ever seen. The last time they met, it was brutal. Honest. Unforgettable."
The anticipation crackled through the air.
"So what will it be this time?" Toney shouted. "Make some noise for Zeus the Brawler!"
The crowd exploded as Zeus emerged from the tunnel, shoulders squared, chin high. He walked with confidence, soaking in the cheers as he entered the ring and claimed his corner, his eyes already locked on the opposite side.
Toney raised his hand again. "And his opponent—on a seven-fight winning streak—make some noise for Youri 'Kronos'!"
The reaction was instant and deafening. Cheers drowned out everything else as Youri stepped into view. He moved steadily toward the ring, every step heavy, deliberate. He was the clear fan favorite—but something was different.
His eyes didn't shine the way they used to.
They were darker. Distant. Focused, but burdened.
As he climbed into the ring, the weight of the night pressed down on him. The crowd, the bets, Barnaby's words, Volar—it all collided inside his chest.
But it was too late to turn back now.
The bell rang.
Youri and Zeus stepped forward at the same time, circling the center of the octagon. The lights above cast hard shadows across their bodies, sweat already glistening on skin though neither had thrown a strike yet. This wasn't their first meeting—there was history here, unfinished business—and both men felt it.
Zeus was the first to move.
He lunged in with a probing jab, fast and heavy, testing distance. Youri slipped to the side on instinct, the punch grazing past his cheek. He answered with a low kick to Zeus's lead leg, the impact echoing through the cage. Zeus barely reacted, but his eyes sharpened.
They exchanged again—jab, cross, hook—gloves snapping, forearms colliding. Zeus pressed forward relentlessly, cutting the cage, forcing Youri backward. Normally, Youri thrived here, dancing along the edge, reading patterns. Tonight, his timing was half a beat off.
Zeus noticed.
He feinted high and drove a brutal body shot into Youri's ribs. The sound was dull and sickening. Youri sucked in air, pain flaring white-hot through his side, but he stayed upright, countering with an elbow that clipped Zeus's temple. The crowd erupted.
Zeus grinned.
They clinched.
Foreheads pressed together, both men breathing hard. Zeus worked short, grinding knees into Youri's thigh and midsection, each one stealing breath and balance. Youri tried to turn him, tried to create space, but Zeus's strength was overwhelming—raw, stubborn, immovable.
With a sharp shove, Zeus broke the clinch and threw a looping right. Youri raised his guard just in time, the punch rattling his arms and driving him back into the cage wall. Zeus didn't let up. He followed with a flurry—hooks and uppercuts, relentless pressure forcing Youri to shell up.
Leo stood at the edge of the cage, shouting instructions, but the noise swallowed his voice.
Youri ducked under a wild hook and slipped out along the fence, firing a counter straight that snapped Zeus's head back. For a moment, the old fire flickered. Youri surged forward, combinations flowing—left, right, low kick, spinning backfist that just missed Zeus's jaw.
The crowd believed again.
Zeus staggered, then planted his feet.
And then he swung.
A crushing overhand right tore through Youri's guard and landed clean. Youri's vision exploded into sparks as he stumbled, barely catching himself on the cage. Zeus closed the distance instantly, pinning him, unleashing heavy body shots that shook bone and muscle alike.
Youri dropped to one knee.
The referee stepped closer, watching carefully, but Youri forced himself back up, teeth clenched, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
Leo leaned in, eyes wide with concern. "You're not yourself," he said urgently. "You're fighting ghosts out there."
Youri didn't answer. His thoughts were far away—Volar, Barnaby, the unspoken countdown ticking somewhere beyond this cage.
Across the octagon, Zeus stood calmly, barely winded, eyes locked on Youri like a predator who knew the hunt was nearing its end.
Zeus came out even more aggressive, wasting no time. He shot in low, driving Youri to the mat with a powerful takedown. The canvas slammed into Youri's back, knocking the breath from his lungs. Zeus followed, settling into top position, his weight crushing.
Youri tried to scramble, to shrimp out, but Zeus stayed glued to him, raining down short, punishing punches. Each impact blurred Youri's vision further. He managed to roll, briefly catching Zeus in half guard, but another elbow slipped through and split his eyebrow open.
Blood dripped onto the mat.
The crowd's roar turned anxious.
Youri forced himself to his feet using the cage, shaking, legs unsteady. Zeus backed up half a step—then charged, driving a knee straight into Youri's midsection. Youri folded, instinctively dropping his guard.
That was the opening.
Zeus delivered a brutal left hook, followed by a right straight that snapped Youri's head sideways. Youri collapsed to the mat, hands scrambling for purchase that wasn't there.
The referee hovered, ready to stop it.
Youri pushed himself up one last time, sheer will keeping him moving. He swung wildly, desperation replacing precision. Zeus blocked easily and answered with a clean, merciless combination—hook, uppercut, cross.
Youri went down hard.
This time, he didn't rise.
The referee stepped in, waving his arms, pulling Zeus back as the bell rang again—final, decisive.
"It's over!"
The crowd erupted, a mix of cheers and stunned silence.
Toney's voice boomed through the arena. "Your winner—by knockout ZEUSSSS!
Zeus raised his arms, chest heaving, victory etched into every line of his face. He looked down at Youri for a long moment, then nodded once—respect, heavy and unspoken.
Medical staff rushed in. Leo was already at Youri's side, kneeling, calling his name. Youri's eyes fluttered open briefly, unfocused, before closing again.
Up in the stands, Barnaby watched quietly, hands clasped, expression unreadable.
Tonight, Kronos had fallen.