The noise of the battlefield faded.
Zain and Mahir stood face to face — only a few meters apart — while chaos raged behind them. Dust swirled. Fists flew. But here? Silence.
Two leaders. Two kings. Two storms colliding on cursed soil.
Mahir cracked his neck, his boots sinking slightly into the hard dirt. His eyes burned — not anger, not hatred, but something deeper.
Ruthless purpose.
Zain's gaze was steady. Wind cut across his face, whipping the ribbons tied to his rings.
One read Zain.
The second — its letters blurred by motion, unreadable, almost alive.
A single heartbeat passed.
Then they moved.
BOOM—
Zain launched first — a flash step forward, shoulder low, fist cutting through air.
Mahir parried instantly, catching his wrist mid-swing and countering with a brutal knee to the ribs.
THUD!
Zain's breath snapped short — he twisted his body, broke free, and spun for a backhand.
Mahir ducked and drove his elbow up — crack! — straight into Zain's jaw.
Blood sprayed.
Zain staggered, wiped his mouth with his thumb, then smiled — a dangerous, crooked grin.
> "That all you got?"
Mahir's eyes narrowed.
> "You'll regret saying that."
He didn't waste a second. Mahir exploded forward — fists flying like bullets.
Left hook. Right cross. Uppercut.
Each strike heavier than the last — like a man trying to crush everything Zain had ever built.
Zain dodged the first two, blocked the third — barely — and caught the uppercut with both arms crossed.
The impact sent him skidding back across the dirt, boots grinding deep lines into the ground.
Mahir didn't let up.
He followed — closing the distance with terrifying speed.
He grabbed Zain by the collar, lifted him slightly — and slammed him into the dirt.
THUD! Dust exploded around them.
Zain coughed, rolled to his feet, and charged again — his knee smashing into Mahir's side.
Mahir grunted, his body bending but not falling.
Zain followed with a spinning elbow — BAM! — hitting Mahir across the face, snapping his head sideways.
Mahir stumbled half a step. Then… smiled.
> "Finally."
He gripped Zain's wrist — twisted it painfully — and drove his forehead into Zain's face.
CRACK!
Blood dripped from both their foreheads, running down to their lips.
The crowd around had slowed — even WS and U-Force fighters began watching, circling unconsciously.
This wasn't a normal fight anymore. This was personal.
Zain roared — pushed Mahir off — and unleashed a flurry.
Straight punch. Kick to the thigh. Elbow to the temple. Knee to the gut.
Every hit carried rage — for Din, for Rusle, for everyone lost in Hadith.
Mahir blocked most — but the last knee broke through, cracking his ribs.
He staggered back, spitting blood.
> "You hit harder than before…"
He wiped his mouth.
"But you're still not me."
Zain lunged forward — too fast. Mahir sidestepped, hooked Zain's arm, and threw him — a clean judo flip.
Zain slammed into the soil again, dirt flying up like shrapnel.
Before Zain could rise, Mahir stomped down — once, twice, thrice — brutal, unrelenting.
Zain grabbed his ankle mid-stomp, twisted, and pulled. Mahir fell, and Zain pounced, mounting him with wild fury.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Fists rained down like thunder. Mahir covered his face but took every hit like stone.
Then — Mahir's hand shot up.
He grabbed Zain by the throat — eyes blazing — and lifted him.
> "You're strong…"
He grinned, blood in his teeth.
"But I'm inevitable."
He threw Zain back — straight into a rusted steel pole at the edge of the field.
The sound was metallic, echoing across the arena.
Zain slid down, coughing blood. His breathing heavy.
He looked up at Mahir — still standing, still smiling, his aura heavy as hell.
And Zain… smiled back.
Not out of arrogance. Out of fire.
> "I told you, Mahir."
"This isn't over."
He pushed himself off the ground — wiping blood from his chin.
His rings glinted under the dull light — ribbons fluttering, one torn slightly by wind.
Both men charged again.
The dust rose like smoke from a burning city.
Mahir vs Zain. Round Two.
And this time —
No one dared to breathe.
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