The pit pulsed like a living beast, its concrete walls trembling under the crowd's relentless stomping, their cheers and jeers a deafening storm. The air hung heavy, thick with sweat, smoke, and the sour tang of spilled beer, heat pressing against Jin's skin like a second opponent. Every bruise from the Iron Fist's blows screamed, his ribs throbbing with each breath, his knuckles raw, crusted with blood. But he forced his shoulders square, chin level, masking the pain. No weakness, not now, not with Joon standing across from him, not with the Apex Syndicate's future riding on this fight.
The crowd split, one side bellowing, "Apex! Apex!" fists pounding barricades like war drums, the other snarling, "Jackal! Jackal!" their voices sharp, wild, hungry for blood. Neon lights flickered overhead, casting jagged shadows on the scarred floor, the pit alive, craving violence. Jin's lungs burned, his body a wreck from Gwan, the Iron Fist, the System's cruel penalty, but his eyes stayed locked on his opponent, fire burning through the haze.
Joon, the Phantom Jackal, stepped into the pit's glow, his dark hoodie draped over his head at first, shadows veiling his face. The spotlight hit, and he tossed the hood back, revealing a smirk that curled with knowing confidence, eyes glittering like he held a secret Jin couldn't grasp. He bounced lightly on his toes, loose, almost careless, but Jin saw through it. That ease was a lie, hiding a predator's precision, a fighter who'd always been one step ahead.
The announcer's voice boomed, hyped to the heavens but edged with nerves, cracking under the weight of the moment. "Ladies and gentlemen, our King of the Ring, the Apex, he's carved through monsters tonight! But now he faces the Phantom himself, the Jackal who steals crowns, the shadow slipping unseen through the pit, give it up for the Phantom Jackal!"
The pit shook, voices clashing, a tidal wave of noise. Jin's jaw clenched, heart pounding, trying to shut out the chaos, to focus on Joon, on the fight, on the answers he needed. Why was Joon here, standing against him instead of with him? The questions burned, but the pit demanded blood first.
The bell rang, sharp, piercing.
Joon moved, feet barely grazing the ground, gliding forward, guard low, smirk unwavering. Jin braced, fists rising, pulse hammering, every muscle taut despite the pain. Joon's leg snapped out, a side kick slicing the air like a blade, precise, vicious. Jin twisted, the gust brushing his ribs, pain flaring where bruises already bloomed. Another kick followed, a roundhouse aimed high, fast as a whip. Jin threw up an arm, blocking, but the impact jolted his bones, jarring his tender ribs, forcing a half-step back, teeth gritted against the sting.
Joon chuckled, circling, light as a shadow, voice playful but laced with steel. "C'mon, Boss, don't space out, take me down if you want answers." Jin's scowl deepened, his mind screaming for explanations, but Joon's eyes, sharp, taunting, promised no words until fists settled it.
Jin lunged, trying to close the distance, to smother those long legs before they tore him apart. Joon's foot lashed out, a front kick slamming Jin's chest, cutting his breath short, shoving him back. Pain exploded, his lungs gasping. Another kick whipped low, striking his thigh, the burn immediate, muscles screaming from earlier fights. Jin pressed forward, but Joon spun, a roundhouse arcing for his head. Jin ducked, the wind grazing his hair, heart racing, every near miss a reminder of Joon's speed.
Each block rattled Jin, each kick that landed burned deeper, his ribs crying, his body begging to fold. He muttered, low, ragged, "Can't beat him like this, not straight up." The memory hit, unbidden, his body limp under the System's corrupted grip, black and purple eyes turning him into a predator. The Ultra Instinct, the penalty's agony, the loss of control. His stomach twisted, the System's punishment still echoing in his bones. He wouldn't let it take him again, not after what it did.
But the reward flashed in his mind, two S-Rank cards, an upgrade card, the tournament's prize money, enough to seed his fight club, to build the Apex Syndicate, to topple the Drop Outs and face the Four Crews. The thought cut through the pain, his ribs aching, muscles fraying, but he couldn't stop, not now, not with everything on the line.
"Fuck it," Jin growled, voice sharp, low. He straightened, rolling his shoulders, ignoring the fire in his joints. His eyes locked on Joon, not with fear but with fire, raw, unyielding. "You're part of my crew, Joon, out of respect, I'm not going easy, so don't you fucking hold back."
Joon's smirk widened, eyes glinting like a blade unsheathed, sharp, dangerous. "That's what I like to hear."
The crowd roared, sensing the shift, the air crackling with tension. The Apex wasn't backing down, the Jackal wasn't playing games. Jin flexed his fists, crouching slightly, instincts primed. Joon's leg twitched, weight shifting, coiled like a spring. The pit held its breath, the clash ready to ignite.
Jin's chest heaved, ribs groaning with every ragged breath, bruises pulsing in time with his hammering heart. Across the pit, Joon stood loose, almost playful, legs coiled like springs, ready to strike. The crowd's chants crashed like a tsunami, "Apex! Jackal!" splitting the air, shaking the concrete walls, the air thick with blood, sweat, and the sour sting of spilled beer. Neon lights flickered, casting warped shadows on the scarred floor, the pit a beast roaring for violence.
Jin shut it all out, his focus razor-sharp, one thought burning: Push. He darted forward, feet scraping the dirt, ignoring the fire in his muscles, the ache in his bones. Joon's leg snapped up, a side kick slicing the air, vicious, precise. Jin slapped it aside with an open palm, redirecting just enough to slide closer, his other hand flicking out, a feint at Joon's ribs. Joon twitched, guard shifting, and Jin saw his chance.
He ducked, slipping under Joon's next kick, shoulder brushing his hip as he surged through. A knee strike whipped in, fast, deadly, but Jin parried with both forearms, pain lancing through his bruised bones, the impact reverberating like a struck bell. He gritted his teeth, pressing forward, weaving, his body screaming but his will unyielding. The crowd exploded, expecting Jin to crumble under Joon's speed, but he was fire now, snapping low punches, slapping kicks aside, trapping Joon's legs to stifle their reach.
The pit became a warzone, the air crackling with the flurry's intensity. "Push him, Apex!" a voice screamed, the crowd stomping, shaking the barricades. Jin's mind honed to a blade's edge, instincts screaming, sensing an opening in Joon's subtle weight shifts, the faint hitch in his rhythm. There. He launched forward, shoulder dipping, fist snapping up, a strike to shatter Joon's flow, to claim the fight for the Syndicate, for the Drop Outs' downfall, for everything he'd bled for.
Joon's eyes gleamed, sharp, predatory. He'd read it.
Before Jin's fist could land, Joon flowed like water, pivoting on his heel, torso twisting, momentum coiling. His leg lashed out, a spinning roundhouse, perfect, merciless. Crack. The kick slammed into Jin's temple, a thunderbolt of pain. His vision shattered, ears ringing like a chorus of bells, the crowd's roar muffling into an underwater hum. His legs buckled, body betraying him, consciousness flickering like a dying flame.
Jin collapsed, face-first into the dirt, the thud heavy, final. Gasps tore through the pit, followed by chaos, half the crowd erupting in cheers, the other stunned silent. Money flew, fists pounded barriers, and the chant surged, deafening, "Jackal! Jackal! Jackal!"
The announcer's voice cracked, then found its rhythm, bellowing, "The Apex has fallen! The Jackal reigns!" The pit shook, neon lights flickering, bets raining down like ash, the crowd a mix of triumph and shock, some screaming for Joon, others staring at Jin's still form, disbelieving.
Joon lowered his leg, chest rising calmly, no gloating, no raised fists. His eyes lingered on Jin, a flicker of something softer, almost regretful, breaking through his playful mask. Then he turned, slipping back into his casual bounce, shadow stretching long under the pit's harsh lights, the Phantom Jackal unchallenged.
Jin's vision pulsed, fading, his body unresponsive, breaths shallow, consciousness hanging by a thread. Pain radiated from his temple, his ribs, his everything, the dirt cold against his cheek, blood pooling beneath him. He wanted to move, to curse, to fight, but his limbs were lead, his mind sinking into darkness.
A flicker cut through the haze, cold, merciless.
[Optional Quest: Win the Tournament]
[Failed]
The System's text burned in his fading sight, each word a blade twisting in his gut. He'd fought for the S-Rank cards, the upgrade card, the prize money to build the Apex Syndicate, to challenge the Four Crews, to make his name feared. All of it, gone in a single kick.
He tried to curse, to shout, to claw his way back, but his lips stayed still, his body no longer his. The crowd's chants echoed, "Jackal! Jackal!" drowning out the world as darkness closed in, heavy, absolute, swallowing him whole.