Hugh didn't wait for the signal to settle in.
The moment the referee stepped back—
He moved.
Fast.
Too fast for someone his size.
His long limbs closed the distance in an instant.
His opponent barely raised his guard—
Hugh's fist crashed into it anyway.
A heavy impact.
The force drove the man backward immediately.
No pause.
No reset.
Hugh stepped in again.
Relentless.
A second strike followed.
Then a third.
Each one faster.
Harder.
More violent.
The man tried to counter—
Hugh didn't let him.
His reach controlled everything.
Every attempt was smothered before it could even begin.
A step forward—
A sudden shift—
Hugh's arm wrapped around the man's neck.
Clean.
Tight.
A choke.
The crowd erupted.
"Finish him!"
"Choke him out!"
"Break him!"
Hugh didn't respond.
His expression twisted into something else entirely.
Something wrong.
His grip tightened.
The man struggled immediately.
His hands clawed at Hugh's arm.
His legs kicked.
Desperate.
Hugh didn't care.
He dragged him down to the ground with ease.
Maintaining the choke.
His long limbs coiled around the man's body like restraints.
No escape.
The struggle weakened.
Fast.
Too fast.
But Hugh didn't loosen his hold.
If anything—
He tightened it further.
His free hand began striking.
Short.
Brutal blows to the man's face.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The resistance faded.
The body went slack.
The crowd roared louder.
But something shifted.
The referee stepped forward immediately.
"Enough!"
No response.
Hugh kept going.
Two arena enforcers jumped down into the pit.
They grabbed him—
Pulled him back.
It took effort.
More than it should have.
Hugh resisted for a brief moment.
His eyes still locked on the unmoving body beneath him.
Then—
He let go.
Just like that.
Calm again.
As if nothing had happened.
The man on the ground didn't move.
One of the attendants rushed in.
Checking.
He was still breathing.
Still alive.
Barely.
A murmur spread through the crowd.
Deaths were rare in the arena.
But not unheard of.
Especially in the lower brackets, where oversight was looser and fighters were more disposable.
In the elite bracket—
It almost never happened.
The organizers watched closely.
Too closely.
Losing fighters at that level meant losing money.
Losing spectacle.
Losing assets.
That was the only reason the man on the ground was still alive.
Hugh stood there silently.
Then slowly—
He lifted his head.
And looked straight at Osric.
"Get in here pretty boy."
He licked the blood of his fist and started laughing like a lunatic.
"Kyakakakah!"
"Come into my embrace!"
Osric had a faint look of disgust on his face, but remained calm.
He walked towards the nearest betting table and confidently put 5 silver on it.
'I'll break that psycho's face.'
The bookmaker didn't laugh this time.
He looked at Osric for a moment—longer than usual—then glanced toward the pit, where Hugh was still grinning like a madman.
"Against him?" he muttered.
He slid the coins aside and handed Osric a wooden token.
"Odds are two point three."
Osric didn't react.
He already knew what that meant.
Higher risk.
Higher reward.
If he won—
That five silver would turn into eleven and a half.
A profit worth the risk.
Osric closed his hand around the token.
His eyes lifted back toward the pit.
Locked on Hugh.
The referee stepped between them, glancing once at Hugh, then at Osric.
There was a brief hesitation.
Just a moment.
Then—
"Next fight!" he shouted.
"On one side— Hugh, The Ruthless!"
The crowd roared.
"And on the other— the undefeated rising fighter— Osric!"
Louder this time.
Anticipation.
Excitement.
Something darker.
The referee stepped back quickly.
"Fight!"
Hugh moved immediately.
No pause.
No stance.
No preparation.
He lunged forward with a long, sudden step.
Too far.
Too fast.
Osric reacted—
But not fully.
Hugh's arm shot out from an awkward angle.
Not clean.
Not structured.
Still—
It connected.
A sharp impact against Osric's guard.
Stronger than expected.
'Fast—'
Osric adjusted instantly.
His footing shifted.
Reset.
But Hugh didn't slow down.
Another step.
Another reach.
This time lower.
Osric moved to block—
Hugh's strike changed mid-motion.
Not a feint.
Something else.
His arm bent strangely—
Turning into a grab.
Osric pulled back just in time.
The fingers brushed his sleeve.
Too close.
'That was—'
No time to think.
Hugh was already inside his range.
Closer than he should be.
Osric stepped sideways.
Creating space—
Hugh followed.
Not cleanly.
Not efficiently.
But relentlessly.
A wild swing came next.
Osric slipped it.
Clean.
His counter came immediately.
A sharp strike toward Hugh's ribs—
It landed.
Solid.
Hugh didn't react.
Not properly.
His body twisted with the impact—
But instead of stepping back—
He stepped forward.
Closer.
Again.
Osric's eyes narrowed.
'He doesn't care.'
Hugh's arm shot out again.
Long.
Unnatural.
Osric blocked—
But the angle was wrong.
The force slid past his guard.
Clipped his shoulder.
A dull shock ran through his arm.
He stepped back—
By instinct.
Resetting.
But Hugh didn't give him space.
He surged forward again.
Closing the gap.
Osric moved to disengage—
Too late.
Hugh's arm hooked around his side.
Loose.
Not locked.
But enough.
A setup.
'Shit—'
Osric reacted instantly.
His body twisted.
Breaking the angle before it closed.
He forced his way out—
Barely.
They separated.
Just for a moment.
Osric's breathing had changed.
Slightly faster.
His eyes locked onto Hugh.
Sharper now.
More focused.
'This is different.'
Across from him—
Hugh smiled wider.
His head tilted slightly.
Like he had just found something interesting.
"Kyakakakah…"
He stepped forward again.
Slowly this time.
Deliberately.
"Don't run, pretty boy…"
Osric adjusted his stance.
Lower.
Tighter.
Controlled.
'No pattern.'
His eyes tracked every movement.
Every shift.
Every twitch.
'Then I'll read the intent.'
Hugh moved again—
And this time—
Osric met him.