The air in the underground arena was heavy with sweat and dust; the roar of the crowd could be heard rumbling through the walls.
Overhead, a ring of flickering lights bathed the pit in a harsh glow, throwing long jagged shadows across the worn stone.
The announcer's voice boomed over the noise, each word sparking another wave of cheers and shouts from the packed stands.
From one gate, a massive man emerged...
A huge, muscular, bald guy with an imperial mustache, his stature as broad as a wall, he stood well as tall as 6'5 and carrying the heavy swagger of someone who had long fought in the underground arena.
The host's voice rang out over the roar!
[ Announcer ]: "In today's arena battle, it's the match you've all been waiting for! Facing off once again—our reigning powerhouse, The Iron Mauler, Korr Bragg—against the relentless, rookie!! The Murim Cultivator!!!~~"
[ Announcer ]: "Let us welcome the undisputed king! With a whopping ninety-two wins… Eleven losses… The goliath! The Iron Mauler— Korr Braggggg!!!"
The crowd erupted in cheers, stamping their feet as the fighter raised his fists.
From the opposite gate, the lights dimmed in shadows before flaring back to full strength.
A lone figure emerged, standing at 6'0, a face hidden behind a black mask, his dark, close‑fitting combat gear tracing the lines of a lean, battle‑hardened frame.
His steps were slow and deliberate, each one echoing against the stone, and his eyes cold and sharp, locked onto his opponent with unblinking focus.
[ Announcer ]: "Now give it up for the one and only comeback king! One hundred thirty‑one wins… Sixteen loses… The crazed man who never gives up! The Relentless guy! Devonn!!! The Murim Cultivatorrr!!!"
The crowd's roar shifted—some voices cheering, others booing—but every eye in the arena followed him as he strode toward the center.
The name "The Murim Cultivator" drew smirks from some and uneasy silence from others as well; it might have sounded strange or even laughable, but those who have seen him fight knew there was nothing funny about the way he destroyed his opponents.
The announcer's voice barely faded before the bell rang, a sharp and metallic ring cut through the noise of the crowd.
Korr Bragg stomped forward first, the floor beneath the pit slightly cracking under his weight. His massive arms flexed, veins bulging, prepared to charge at the Murim Cultivator.
However, he didn't move right away. He tilted his head slightly, eyes tracking every shift in Korr's stance, every twitch of muscle, studying him like a scholar picking apart an opponent's flaws.
His hands came up into a loose guard as he breathed steadily, his feet light and ready.
The crowd roared for action and blood. Their cheers sending vibrations throughout the underground arena.
Korr lunged, advancing a quick, heavy step before swinging a heavy right punch aimed at Murim Cultivator's head.
The blow came fast for a man his size, yet he slipped to the side in a single smooth step, his feet pivoting just enough to let the punch graze past.
Before Korr could recover, His fist shot forward like lightning, slamming into the bigger man's ribs with a sharp crack.
[ Murim Cultivator ]: "OH SHIT!"
Surprised, he muttered under his breath, seemingly unintentional from the attack he landed.
[ Korr ]: "What are you— Ahemm..."
Korr grunted, the impact forcing him to take a step back because of the pain.
[ Korr ]: "Good hit young man! Now let's see you handle this!"
With a roaring shout, his Sigil flared brighter.
A circular sigil with concentric, uneven rings, like shockwaves in his chest. The rings distort slightly as they activate, as though vibrating.
[ Body Mend ][1]
The bruised flesh along his ribs, dark from the blow his opponent had landed moments ago, began to ripple and shift.
The discoloration faded as torn muscle knit itself back together beneath his skin, leaving only unbroken flesh in its place.
The crowd roared at the sight of Korr's signature C-rank Sigil ability "Body Mending".
[ Murim Cultivator ]: "Don't get ahead of yourself, old man!"
The young fighter exclaimed as he prepared into a martial stance.
[ Murim Cultivator ]: "Fū! Rin Ka Zan! As swift as the wind!"
[FūRinKaZan : Fū! As swift as the wind ][2]
The Murim Cultivator uttered the verse before suddenly dashing toward Korr at a fast speed, jumping and twisting into a spinning backflip mid-air and snapping out a kick.
Korr raised his guard just in time, the kick crashing against his forearm with a dull, jarring impact.
Using the force of the block, Korr twisted his body and snapped a counterattack toward where his opponent should have been, while being confident the exchange was his.
The strike cut through nothing but air, and a flicker of unease crawled up to his spine.
Before he could adjust, before his stance could fully reset, the space behind him shifted—subtle, precise.
The Murim Cultivator was already behind on him...
Before Korr could turn, he drove his heel into the back of Korr's knee, the strike sharp and deliberate. The joint buckled with a grunt, Korr's balance breaking for just a heartbeat.
That heartbeat was enough.
The Murim Cultivator stepped in close, his shoulder brushing past as his fist snapped forward, burying itself into Korr's ribs.
The impact echoed dully, forcing the air from Korr's lungs as he staggered forward.
However...
In light of the fast, intense moment, Korr grabbed the hands of his opponent with unyielding sheer strength as the fighter struggled to free himself.
His momentum died the instant steel-like fingers locked in place, the strength behind them far beyond what raw muscle alone could achieve.
He struggled even more as he twisted, yanked, tried to tear free.
[ Korr ]: "Did you forget my sigil's ability, young man?!"
As he spoke, the sigil etched along Korr's chest flared to life, its glow surging with oppressive force.
[ Body Mend ][3]
Before The Murim Cultivator could recover and free himself from his grip, Korr counterattacked with a brutal punch that slammed into his side, sending him spinning across the floor.
The fighter twisted into a backflip as he hit the ground and sprang back to his feet.
[ Murim Cultivator ]: "Nice hit! Old man!"
The fighter smirked as he reset his stance, rolling a shoulder loose as he started to charge again.
Korr met the fighter's charge with a flurry of fast heavy strikes, each punch slicing through the air with a sharp whoosh.
The fighter slipped and weaved, letting most of Korr's heavy blows whistle past by inches. His counters were quick and precise, aimed to keep the crowd entertained without crossing the line.
But the Iron Mauler never slowed, his massive frame moving with surprising speed, forcing The Murim Cultivator into constant motion.
Sweat rolled down Devon's back beneath his mask, his breathing growing heavier. Each dodge was costing him energy, and every step back brought him closer to the pit's edge.
The tireless Mauler was living up to his name—sooner or later, he'd corner his prey.
[ Korr ]: "Time to end this! Prepare urself, young man!"
Korr finally slowed his advance, planting his feet in the dirt as if drawing a line neither would cross without consequence.
Across from him, Devon straightened, wiping his sweat from his brow with the back of his glove. The two locked eyes through the heat and haze, the air between them thick with the promise of the end.
[ Announcer ]: "Here it is! The final strike! One hit to decide it all!"
The crowd erupted, the noise rising to a deafening roar. Stomps and chants rattled the very boards beneath their boots.
Korr's body flared with the glow of Body Mending, his already formidable frame tightening like coiled steel. His right fist clenched, the veins along his arm bulging as raw strength gathered.
Devon shifted into a stance...
Devon moved to counter, slipping his shoulder and driving his fist forward, but Korr's momentum was too strong.
The Iron Mauler had built too much speed from his charge; his punch slammed into Devon's guard with bone‑rattling force, tearing through it and smashing into his chest.
The impact lifted Devon clean off his feet, sending him crashing across the pit floor. Dust and dirt burst up around him as he rolled multiple times before crashing into a wall.
A thin line of blood slid from beneath his mask, dripping onto the ground.
The announcer's voice boomed over the chaos.
[ Announcer ]: "YOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! A CLEAN HIT!!! HIT!! A HIT!! THE MURIM CULTIVATOR IS DOWN! DOWN!! Korr Bragg, The Iron Mauler WON!!!!"
The crowd erupted, half of them cheering with wild excitement, the other half shouting curses and upset.
This was the betting floor of the underground; every blow carried money on its back, and Devon's loss meant some had just won big while others tore up their tickets in rage.
Korr raised his arm for the crowd, his grin wide...
As the Murim Cultivator lay down in defeat... Powerless... Even with Martial Prowess.
[1] Realigns damaged flesh and muscle, accelerating recovery and restoring function without fully erasing pain or fatigue.
[2] FūRinKaZan martial manual recovered from the internet by Devon. Fū means as swift as the wind. Does nothing...
[3] Realigns damaged flesh and muscle, accelerating recovery and restoring function without fully erasing pain or fatigue.