Spotlights swept across the stage, illuminating the octagonal cage to the thumping beat of loud music. Hundreds of spectators stood, screaming, creating a wave of sound that pressed in from all directions like a storm.
Two fighters advanced to the center, their eyes locked. There were no smiles, only raw emotion: hatred, courage, and the determination not to be the one lying on the canvas that night. The round bell rang—TING!—and they lunged at each other instantly.
The first punch exploded on a jaw, a crack! that made the crowd roar. Blood immediately spurted from a split lip, but the fighter didn't flinch. He retaliated with a low kick that made his opponent stumble. A torrent of attacks followed, a barrage of heavy blows, an elbow smashing into a temple, making the body convulse from the impact.
The crowd's cheers tore through the air: some shrieked hysterically, others chanted their champion's name, some just screamed manically. Every punch was fuel for them.
A knee strike slammed into the stomach, making the opponent double over. His body was forced back until he hit the wire fence of the octagon. That's when the storm of punches rained down: thud! blam! thud!—a head rattled, an eyebrow split open, and blood flowed heavily, soaking the face.
But the one cornered still fought back. With an angry yell, he charged, taking his opponent to the floor, and they grappled. Their bodies shifted on the canvas, sweat mixed with blood, muscles tensed like bowstrings. They fought for a lock, for air, for life itself.
Then came the climax. A single opening appeared—the fighter on top managed to wrap his arm around his opponent's neck. The rear-naked choke was locked tight. The opponent struggled, his face reddening, the veins in his neck bulging, his eyes wide with panic. The crowd went silent for a moment, holding its breath.
Until finally… tap-tap-tap! A hand hit the floor. The referee immediately jumped in, stopping the fight.
In an instant, the stadium exploded. The cheers of thousands of people rumbled like an earthquake. The winner, Kael Null, stood there, chest heaving, his face slick with sweat and blood—some his own, some his opponent's. The referee raised his hand high.
In the Locker Room
A plump man with tattooed arms named John, with a bright smile, approached Kael, who was changing clothes.
"Kael… Kael… what a great fight!" he said.
Kael responded cynically, "Just hand over the payment."
"Hahaha…," John laughed. "Alright, my friend, here's 250 dollars, just as we agreed." (John was the owner of the bar and the underground MMA fights).
Kael took the money instantly and started to leave.
"Aren't you going to relax for a bit, my friend?" John asked.
Kael replied, "No need."
John, with both hands raised to his shoulders, said, "Alright, mate. There'll be another fight next month. I'll let you know."
Kael just said "Okay" and walked away.
24-Hour Convenience Store
Ding! Kael opened the door, went straight to the cooler, grabbed two cans of beer, and walked to the counter. "Two packs of cigarettes," he said.
The cashier replied curtly, "Okay, sir. Two cans of beer, two packs of cigarettes. The total is…"
Kael nodded in agreement.
Outside the store, Kael sat down and popped open a can. The beer hissed—chsss—and he took a long gulp—glug… glug… ahhh.
"Ugh… damn it. My lip still hurts from that punch."
He then tore open the cigarette pack and lit one. Click… click… cratass… cratsss.
Inhale, exhale… Cigarette smoke filled Kael's face. He stared at the tall buildings with their beautiful, shining neon lights. The atmosphere felt busy, yet in stark contrast, the streets were deserted because it was the middle of the night.
Kael's gaze was empty. He mumbled, "How did my life turn out this way?"
"Back when I was in school and into wrestling, I thought I'd become a pro athlete."
Kael's eyes closed as he remembered his past. Instead of becoming a pro athlete, he ended up working as a sales and marketing agent because of his parents' financial situation. He was lucky in 2017 when a friend invited him to bet on some crypto coins. Years later, unbeknownst to Kael, the crypto market became a global phenomenon. The coins he bought skyrocketed. Kael screamed in joy; he had become rich.
The profits from selling the coins could have sustained Kael for a lifetime, but like most people who get sudden wealth, Kael lost his way. He splurged every day, buying luxury items, and even gambling, partying, and womanizing were his daily routine. Then he met Elsa, a beautiful, calm girl whom Kael had admired in high school.
Yes, like any man blinded by his first love, Kael pursued her. It was easy for a young man with a lot of money to get close to a woman. Kael married Elsa. The first 1.5 years of their marriage were beautiful, but problems began to surface. Kael quit his job and became a full-time trader, daring to try the futures and forex markets with leverage. Luck was no longer on his side. He often lost money, and things got progressively worse, compounded by Elsa's extremely high-maintenance lifestyle—because she was fundamentally from a wealthy family and married Kael for his money.
The atmosphere grew more grim. Five years into their marriage, with no children—they had intentionally decided not to have any—they chose to divorce. The legal settlement heavily favored Elsa… the house, the apartment, and all his remaining money flowed to her.
Kael was left broke and with a mountain of debt. He tried to seek help from family and friends he'd been close to and had even helped in the past, but not a single one offered assistance. With only a high school diploma and at 36, it was hard for him to find a job. To earn a living, he worked as a freelance food delivery driver and occasionally as an underground fighter. He lived in a cramped rented room and only had a battered motorcycle for his deliveries.
Kael opened his eyes… he took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled, one stick after another. He looked at his smartphone, which had a cracked screen. He watched videos about survival and occasionally asked an AI about how to make traps or rifles. This was Kael's only hobby. He enjoyed looking up various things, from small details like the types of plants he saw in videos. He'd watch and observe them, sometimes asking the AI for a better understanding.
Lost in his phone, he scrolled from one page to another, then opened social media.
His eyes widened, and he muttered, "That bitch." A photo of his ex-wife, Elsa, with Kael's close friend was posted.
Kael's heart felt like it was being sliced. "That bastard," he said. "When we first got together, you said you couldn't leave me, but look, barely a year after the divorce, you're with another man, and it's someone I know…"
"It's a dog-eat-dog world," he mumbled.
He lit another cigarette, took a drag, and exhaled. "Dammit, my life is so worthless now. What am I even chasing? An empty life."
"When can I just leave this world?" He stared, filled with emotion.
He mused… "Suicide? No, no, that's a coward's way out. I'd rather die fighting in the octagon."
A sigh of relief escaped him, and his heart felt a little better.
Dongg… dongg… tringg… The sound of Kael's smartphone echoed, signaling a new delivery order.
Kael saw the notification. "Oh, a late-night order. A sushi restaurant a few blocks from here," he said.
He stood up from his seat, walked to his old motorcycle, and started it: brumm… tutt… tak. He sat on the seat, took out his phone, and put it in the holder near the side mirror. The map was displayed on the screen. Kael began to drive.
On the Road
Brummm… vroomm… Kael occasionally glanced at his phone hanging on the motorcycle holder. A gentle night breeze blew. The pain from the fight was replaced by the cold of the night.
"Ah, what a perfect night with a relatively empty road," Kael hummed, enjoying the night wind while looking at the map on his phone screen.
Without him realizing it, suddenly, about 200 meters ahead of him, reality began to move strangely. The space in front of him bent, twitched, and swirled. 🌀 Then, it tore open. The tear glowed and shimmered, revealing a pitch-black void.
Kael wasn't going fast, but he wasn't slow either. His eyes, which had been on the map, now looked forward. He was shocked.
"Damn it… what is that?"
"Shit!" Kael, who was still moving, hit the brakes hard. Because of the close distance, he panicked. Only one thought came to mind: grabbing the phone from the holder and gripping it tightly so he could call the authorities or an ambulance later. His right hand held the brake, making the motorcycle wobble unstably. The front tire screeched on the smooth asphalt, leaving behind a black tire mark.
Kael tried to hold on like a cowboy taming a bull, but he couldn't. He was thrown off.
"Arghhhh… arghhhh… you bastard!" he screamed. His arms hugged his body and the phone he held, bracing for impact.
Then, Kael's body flew forward, sucked into the tear. The tear was like a drop of water falling into a wavy pool. The surrounding reality twitched, then the tear slowly began to close. Scitcc… tasss. Reality returned to normal, showing an empty street as if nothing had ever happened.
A deep silence fell. Kael's motorcycle lay on the ground, releasing white smoke and the characteristic sound of a dying engine: bremm… vroom… dessa desss….
Beyond the Tear
Beyond the tear was not just darkness… but something more terrifying than darkness itself. The man was sucked in, his body falling aimlessly, floating in a bottomless void. It was silent, but every inch of that silence pierced his ears, pressing on his chest until it nearly burst.
Then the pain came. His skin cracked, tearing away piece by piece like sheets of paper being forcefully peeled. He screamed, his voice echoing strangely, bounced off the invisible walls that folded him in from all sides. His flesh contorted, twisting, until his body lost its form.
His right arm screamed along with the phone still in his grasp. In an instant, the device adhered to his flesh, fusing with it, penetrating the bone. The crack on the screen spewed a cold light—white, but pulsing like a living vein. From within that light, letters and numbers spilled out, flitting wildly, dancing around his body.
The digital symbols no longer felt like data. They spun like electrons around a nucleus, creating a vortex of light that resembled a giant atom. Every number left a trail of metallic tick-tick-tick, every letter whispered in an unknown language. They attached themselves to pieces of his flesh, then detached again, as if rewriting his very form.
The man's body coiled further, folding in on itself. His bones compressed, his veins tangled, until he slowly became a pulsing sphere. From inside the sphere, his face was still visible—eyes wide, mouth agape in a scream that never ended.
The letters and numbers continued to spin, faster and faster, more densely, until they fused to form a shell of light. The sphere trembled, as if ready to explode or be reborn.
The space within the tear responded as well. The walls of reality vibrated, folding and bending like liquid glass. Strange shadows appeared in the distance: geometric structures that could never exist in the world, lines of light that rotated to form impossible patterns. Everything moved in sync with the sphere's pulse.
And when the light reached its peak, the tear seemed to constrict. A sound—KRRAAAKKK!—broke the silence, and the glowing sphere was thrown hard, rocketing into a deeper nothingness—a place where even the concept of "existence" could not survive.
All that was left was the echo of his scream, bouncing in that alien space… long after his body was no more.