Cain woke up to the glare of sunlight streaming through the broken window of his rented apartment. He pushed himself off the stained, sheetless mattress and shuffled toward the poor excuse for a bathroom: a shower tucked in the corner behind a ripped curtain, a sink covered in stains, and a shattered mirror.
He went through his usual routine: washing his face, brushing his teeth with a toothbrush that was years past saving, and wrapping fresh bandages around his knuckles. Soon, he was on his way to the warehouse where the fights took place, stopping only once to buy a single apple just enough to keep him from passing out.
When he arrived, he immediately noticed the difference. There were more guards. The crowd was quieter. It felt as if everyone could sense it too… that heavy pressure in the air, like being deep underwater.
He headed straight for the break room to check in. Everything went as usual same schedule, same routine but there was something else there, something cold and creeping.A feeling like fear.The kind you get when you're alone in a dark building and realize death might be standing right behind you.
Cain watched the first few fights "appetizers," as the rich guests liked to call them. As the time for his match drew near, nervousness began to settle in. He wasn't afraid of dying, and he'd fought stronger men before, so the feeling was strange. It wasn't doubt. It was something worse.A sense of inevitable pain.
Then, the announcer's voice roared through the speakers:
"Cain Thorne and Andrew Vintelli, come to the ring entrance!"
Andrew Vintelli, Cain thought. He'd never heard the name before, but then again, he didn't know many people. At the entrance, he met a tall man wearing several hexfoil braces along his arms. They gleamed faintly, dampening his energy. The referee motioned for them to shake hands.
"All blows are permitted. All techniques are permitted, with the exception of energy usage. Do I make myself clear?"
Both nodded.
Only then did Cain take a real look at his opponent. Andrew was bigger, yet balanced strong, but not bulky. Fast, but not frail. The kind of fighter built for both speed and power. On the other side, Andrew barely looked at him. His eyes kept flicking toward the special glassed-in section of the stands.
So, he's trying to impress someone.
Then, the bell rang.
Before Cain could even blink, Andrew was moving. He closed the distance with a powerful straight jab. Cain twisted aside, dodging just in time, but still felt a gust of wind whip against his cheek.
He's faster than he looks. And if that's true, then he's stronger too.
Cain countered with a kick aimed at the ribs. It connected, but only halfway. Andrew caught his leg and hurled him into the cage wall. Cain rolled back to his feet, raising his guard. Again, Andrew glanced toward the stands. Then he lunged.
Cain stepped in, blocking with his forearm, and drove his knee into Andrew's abdomen.A hiss of pain escaped the man's lips, but then he grinned. For a heartbeat, they stood still. The air around them felt charged, vibrating with tension.
Cain's pulse quickened.He's holding back.But how much?Those braces… they're not just dampeners. They're weights. Add that to his strength and—
He didn't finish the thought.Andrew was already there. A fist shot through Cain's guard like a sledgehammer, slamming him into the cage again. Pain exploded through his arms. Cain looked up and Andrew was right in front of him. Then came the hits.
One.Two.Three.
Cain's vision flashed white. He refused to drop, raising a hand and catching Andrew's wrist mid-strike.
For a brief second, everything froze.
Then Andrew twisted, rolling his shoulder and driving his elbow into Cain's temple. The sound was dull, like meat hitting stone. Cain's vision went sideways as he staggered back, gripping the fence for balance.
Stay up.
He barely got his guard up before a knee crashed into his ribs. The air rushed out of his lungs. He folded, then came a hook to the jaw that sent him sprawling.
He hit the cement hard.His ears rang.His thoughts scattered.
Get up. Move. Fight back!
Andrew didn't hesitate. Another blur, another strike. Cain raised his arm, but the blow tore through him, numbing bone and muscle alike. Blood ran down his face. He could taste the iron, thick and hot in his mouth. He tried to stand, but his legs trembled, his body screaming to stay down. Every part of him said it was over.
"No… not yet…"
He pushed off the floor. Andrew caught him by the collar and drove a knee into his stomach. The world shrank to sound, the thud of fists, the roaring crowd, the pounding in his chest. For the first time in his life, Cain couldn't tell up from down. His body wouldn't listen. The referee's voice came from somewhere far away, muffled by the thunder of his heartbeat. Andrew exhaled, lowering his guard. Cain lay motionless, blood pooling beneath him, dripping from his mouth, painting the floor.
The crowd roared. They thought it was over.
Then… movement.
Cain's fingers twitched. His hand pressed against the ground, shaking, forcing him upward inch by inch. Blood dripped from his chin. His breaths were ragged, uneven. Andrew frowned.
"Still got some strength left in you?"
Cain lifted his head, one eye barely open, his voice slurred but steady.
"I won't accept… defeat…"
He staggered to his feet, every muscle trembling. The crowd went silent. Andrew scoffed, cracking his neck as he stepped forward.
"You can barely stand. You're nothing but a punching bag with too much pride to stay down.You think dragging yourself up makes you a fighter? You're pathetic."
Cain spat blood onto the floor, the crimson mixing with old stains.His chest heaved, but his eyes never left Andrew's.
"Pathetic, huh?"
His voice rasped, broken but burning hotter.
"You think because you're stronger… faster… that you understand what power is?"
Andrew tilted his head, smirking.
"Power is being able to triumph over anyone."
Cain laughed, low, hollow at first, then louder, cracked and furious.
"Winning? That's what you call strength? No… You fight to prove something to them!"
He jabbed a finger toward the glassed-in stands.
"But I fight because it's the only thing keeping me alive!"
He took a shaky step forward, voice rising with every word.
"You think I care about glory? About applause?I've been broken, thrown away, stepped on — hell, I've died inside more times than you've thrown a punch!And I'm still here!"
Andrew's smirk faltered, just for a second. Cain straightened, squaring his shoulders despite the tremor in his legs.
"You can beat me to the ground, but as long as I can move, as long as I can breathe, I'll keep on fighting!"
Andrew's eyes narrowed, irritation flickering in them now. He lunged forward, leg swinging toward Cain's ribs. But Cain's body moved before thought.Time slowed.
He caught Andrew's leg midair, gripping tight. The strike's force rattled his arm, but he didn't let go.
Andrew's eyes widened, surprise flashing, too late.
You fell for it.
"You fool!"
Cain twisted, throwing everything he had left into one final punch. His fist crashed into Andrew's jaw like a hammer striking steel. Andrew's head snapped back. His body slammed into the fence. Metal creaked, and he slid down, collapsing in a heap. Cain stood there, chest heaving, blood dripping down his chin. Sweat and grime mixed with the blood on his skin.
The crowd erupted, a tidal wave of sound, wild and deafening. Cain didn't react. His eyes stayed on Andrew, half expecting him to rise again.But he didn't.
The referee raised Cain's arm.
Winner.
Still, as Cain stood there in the ring, surrounded by the roar of victory, his mind was elsewhere.
So… who was your sponsor, after all?