"You're weak, Maya. Weak as you have always been." That voice echoed in her mind, calm and condescending tone that had haunted her for years now.
"You've been number five for too long, even the members who joined years after you have already passed your level. You don't even know about your own style. You just mimic others, and you call that fighting?"
The words weren't just the whispers from her memory anymore — they were daggers, sharp and cold, twisting inside of her skull.
Her fists clenched hard as her gloves creaked, her nails biting into her own palms until it started hurting.
"You'll never be able to surpass your own limits," the voice echoed again, cruel and calm. "Because you're scared of breaking them."
The words hit something inside of her—something which was trembling for a long time now.
Her teeth ground together as her body trembled. And then— a low grunt came out of her mouth.
'I'm not gonna suffer... not anymore.'
She slammed her fist into the mat as the sound of impact echoed like a gunshot. Her chest heaved, sweat rolled down her temple, streaking through the dust and blood.
The arena lights glared down, burning against her bruised skin but her eyes burned brighter with resolve.
She stood as the crowd went silent for half a breath.
Travis's grin started to falter—just a little before it returned back in that same mocking curve. "Still up, huh? You're tougher than I thought, I'll have a little more fun destroying that motivation of yours." He licked his lower lip as he said that.
He lunged at her again, his shadow swallowing her whole, his fists like sledgehammers slicing through the air.
But this time, Maya's body moved before her mind could think. She ducked low, the wind from the punch grazing the top of her hair. The mat vibrated a bit under his missed blow.
Her body twisted on its own — perfect form, muscle memory, sheer instinct kicked in.
Her heel whipped upward as it sliced the air with a 360-degree roundhouse kick.
CRACK!
The sound cut through the arena like lightning.
Travis's head snapped sideways, sweat spraying from his temple as he staggered backward.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Ryan's heart stopped mid-beat. And Maya — she didn't stop with just a kick.
Her stance shifted instantly—grounded right. She surged forward as every step of hers was fueled with motivation.
A flurry of jabs, crosses, hooks and spinning kicks followed — one after another, the combination of the attacks was perfect. Each hit landed with raw precision; each exhale escaped her lips like a battle cry.
She no longer cared about her bruised hand, her aching ribs or the way her shaky breath burned her lungs. The pain was gone— transformed into fire, pure and wild.
Travis tried to swing back, but she slipped past every single attack he tried to do—the rhythm of a fighter who had finally stopped running from herself.
Travis snarled as he swung his arm again, desperate attempt to hit Maya. "Same move like that won't work on me again—!"
But she was already gone from his sightline. She pivoted, hips snapping with whip-like power, her foot arcing high— another spinning heel kick to Travis's neck, it was faster, heavier and cleaner than before.
THUD!
The kick smashed into his temple with a bone-cracking force.
The air froze, noise went blank. The audience held their breath.
Then, like a falling tree in a forest, Travis's huge body tilted, his knees buckled up and he collapsed with a deafening thud that seemed to shake the mat itself.
For a moment — nothing. No sound, no movement, only the dull hum of the lights and Maya's rugged breathing.
And then, the shouts started to come from the audience, full of enthusiasm and excitement.
"MAYA! MAYA! MAYA!"
The crowd's roar hit like a boost of confidence for Maya. Stomping, clapping and shouting—all of it thundered in unison.
Maya stood in the center of the stage, swaying, trembling, drenched in sweat. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, breathing was rigid. Her legs looked like they could give up any second, but her spirit—that wouldn't bow.
She raised her hand up in the air, voice came out loud, fierce. "I will not stay number five anymore."
The words tore through air, carried by pure fury, by years of swallowed humiliation.
And in that moment, every student in that arena could feel the emotions behind her shout—the burning will of someone who had shattered the chain which was holding them back.
At the edge of the Kickboxing Club's group, a tall figure leaned in against the wall, arms crossed next to his chest, the #1 fighter. His expression didn't change, but the faintest smirk curled across his lips.
"Finally." He murmured, almost proudly. "You finally broke your limits, Maya."
Maya blinked once, twice — the lights above started blurring out before her knees gave up.
She collapsed onto the floor, the exhaustion finally hit her. Ryan shot forward, panic lighting his chest like fire in the forest — but Arthur caught his shoulder mid-step.
Arthur didn't say anything, just silence. His grip was steady, unshaken.
Ryan stopped, looking at Maya lying there — battered, broken, but smiling faintly as the medics rushed in.
And in that fragile, fleeting moment, Ryan got to know the real meaning of strength. It wasn't power or fame, but it was the refusal to back down from something.
The announcer's voice broke through the noise, echoing across the arena.
"The winner of the first match of today's competition is Kickboxing Club and Maya Jin."
The crowd erupted again, louder, wilder this time.
But even through the chaos, Ryan's eyes stayed fixed onto Maya's unconscious body.
Then the next announcement hit the arena.
"The next match is between Judo Club Versus Boxing Club! Representing Judo Club... Jin Kuroda!"
The name hit Ryan like a brick, his heart skipped a beat for a second as he asked the system. 'System, that name, that same arrogant smirk is of that dude who chased me in the corridor days ago, isn't it?'
[DING!]
[Confirmed. It's him, Host. The same one who tried to jump you.]
Ryan's jaw clenched hard, teeth gritted.
[This might be your chance. Step up.]
He turned towards Arthur as he said, voice low and steady. "Arthur... let me fight him." Eyes filled with motivation.
Arthur's eyes shifted towards him, calm and unreadable. Then, a small smirk curled up at his lips. "Fine."
Arthur said, voice quiet but sharp as a blade. "Show me something interesting." Arthur had to let Ryan go after seeing the resolve in his eyes.
Ryan's pulse roared in his ears as he took one deep breath and stepped forward.
The announcer blinked in surprise as Ryan climbed onto the platform. "Uh... representing the Boxing Club we have... Ryan West?"
The crowd murmured, whispers started to spread like ripples.
Across the stage, Jin Kuroda stretched his arms around lazily, neck cracking, a smirk was already on his face. He was tall — lean, every step he took was smooth, deliberate, yet dangerous.
"Oh" he said, amusement dripping from his tone. "You're in Boxing Club now? Never knew that they took weaklings like you or should I say... a coward?"
Ryan's eye twitched as he was about to say something, Arthur's voice came out loud. "Don't let him get over your thoughts. He's trying to lure you in his talks, stay calm and composed."
Ryan slapped his both cheeks up as he shook his head. 'Focus... Ryan West, just focus.'
He looked straight into Jin's eyes, his heartbeat steady. 'This time... I'll win.'