The underground tournament's locker rooms were nothing like a fancy club. Rotten wooden benches, moldy smell, obscene graffiti on the walls. Lucas sat in a corner, a water bottle in hand.
[Recovery in progress...][HP: 95/100 → 100/100][Stamina: 18/25 → 25/25]
"Here, drink this too." Malik handed him an energy drink. "You'll need it."
Lucas drank greedily. The adrenaline from the first match was wearing off, giving way to reality. He had won, yes, but barely. And Snake was just the beginning.
"So, Hammer," Malik began, sitting down next to him. "Listen carefully because he's not like Snake."
"Hammer, real name Dimitri Markovitch. Former junior prospect, top 50 in the world among under-18s three years ago. Then his family lost all their money in a scam. No more coach, no more training, nothing."
"And he went bad?"
"Had to. He plays here to pay his father's debts. The guy is technical, very technical. Vicious slice serve, sick drop shots. But most importantly..." Malik lowered his voice. "He aims for the knees."
"Sorry?"
"His nickname doesn't come from nowhere. When he feels he might lose, he hits at the legs. Three guys ended up in the hospital last month."
Lucas closed his eyes. What the hell was he doing here? Oh right. His father's innocence. Tom Beaumont. The torn photo.
"Is there a way to beat him?" he asked.
Malik thought. "He hates long rallies. His endurance isn't great since he stopped training seriously. And he has a tell: he touches his gold chain before every second serve."
A sudden commotion reached them from outside. Malik took a look.
"Oh shit. He's here."
"Hammer?"
"No. Kozlov."
Lucas jumped up and looked through the half-open door. A massive man was crossing through the crowd, which respectfully parted. 6'4", mover's shoulders, shaved head covered in scars. Viktor Kozlov.
"He doesn't even watch other matches usually," Malik murmured. "What's he doing here?"
Kozlov stopped near the court, his eyes scanning the surroundings. His gaze met Lucas's through the gap. An icy smile stretched his lips.
"The newcomer," he said in a voice that carried despite the noise. "Ghost, is it? I can't wait."
Then he went to sit in a VIP box, surrounded by guys in suits counting wads of bills.
"Shit," Malik breathed. "He's noticed you. That's not good."
"Ghost! Hammer! On the court!" the organizer bellowed.
Time for round two. Lucas stood up, his legs a bit shaky. Malik patted him on the back.
"Remember. Keep moving. Make him run. And protect your legs."
Lucas nodded and left the locker room. The crowd was denser, louder. His first match had attracted attention. Bets were flying.
"50 on Ghost!" "You're crazy, Hammer in two sets!" "The kid's got guts, I'm betting 100!"
On the court, Hammer was waiting. Dimitri Markovitch. Twenty years old, blond, muscular but not massive. Glacier blue eyes that were already analyzing Lucas. And indeed, a gold chain around his neck.
[Analysis in progress...][Opponent: Hammer][Estimated level: 12][Main stats: Serve 28/100, Technique 35/100, Stamina 18/100][Mental: Stable but ruthless]
No handshake. No introduction. Hammer took position to serve directly.
The first serve was a technical masterpiece. Sliced, grazing the net, barely bouncing. Lucas had no chance. 0-15.
Second serve. Hammer touched his chain. Lucas anticipated thanks to Malik's tip. Forehand on the run. But Hammer had anticipated the move. Perfect drop shot counter. 0-30.
The technical level difference was glaring. 0-40 in two minutes.
Lucas took a deep breath. Thought of his father. Of his mother who had given her savings. He couldn't give up so easily.
Serve. He put everything he had into it. The ball grazed the line. Hammer, surprised by the speed, missed his return. 15-40.
But it was only delaying the inevitable. Hammer concluded with a pinpoint passing shot. 0-1.
The match continued, and Lucas quickly understood he was outclassed. Not like with Snake where the difference was manageable. Hammer was simply better. More precise. Smarter. More experienced.
0-2. 0-3. Lucas ran, fought on every point, but it was like trying to stop the tide with his hands.
In the fourth game, something changed. Hammer started sweating. A lot. The rallies that Lucas desperately prolonged were starting to weigh on him.
Lucas won his first game. 1-3. The crowd came alive. Was there hope?
Hammer touched his chain more often. His serves lost precision. Lucas scraped every point, turning the match into a physical ordeal.
2-3. The crowd chanted "Ghost! Ghost!"
That's when Hammer showed his true face. On the next point, instead of aiming for the lines, he sent a ball directly at Lucas. Not accidentally. The shot hit Lucas in the shoulder, unbalancing him.
"Oops," said Hammer with an icy smile. "Sorry, I was aiming for the line."
[Damage received: -10 HP][HP: 90/100]
Lucas grimaced, his shoulder sore. No umpire to protest to. In normal tennis, that was a lost point for Hammer. Here? Just another tactic.
The following points, Hammer alternated. A normal ball, then an "error" that grazed Lucas. Pure intimidation. Lucas had to constantly be on guard, which affected his game.
2-4. Then 2-5.
Hammer's serve for the match. Lucas was backed against the wall. His shoulder throbbed. His opponent was better. But...
[Maximum determination reached][Mental: 25 → 30 (current level maximum)]
First point. Endless rally. Thirty-two shots. Hammer showed signs of fatigue. On the thirty-third, he made an error. 0-15.
The crowd rose. David refused to die.
Second point. Hammer served harder, looking for the ace. Too hard. Net. Second serve. He touched his chain. Lucas knew where it was going. Return winner. 0-30.
Hammer swore in Russian. For the first time, he was losing his cool.
Third point. This time, Hammer took no risks. Body serve. Lucas barely dodged but his return was weak. Hammer came to the net to finish.
Except Lucas had anticipated. Perfect lob. Hammer ran, jumped, smashed with all his strength.
The ball rocketed straight at Lucas. Not at the line. At him. At his already injured body.
[IMMINENT DANGER!]
Time seemed to freeze. Lucas had a fraction of a second to decide. Dodge and lose the point, maybe the match. Or...
[Skill "Zone" available][Activate to dodge? YES/NO]
Lucas's eyes hardened. He had already used Zone against Snake. If he used it now to dodge, he wouldn't have it for a potential crucial point.
The ball approached, deadly, aimed directly at his already battered body. In the VIP box, Kozlov leaned forward, interested. In the stands, Malik held his breath. On the court, Hammer smiled, sure of his victory.
Lucas made his decision.