The roar of the crowd was physical.
It vibrated through the worn soles of Shane's boots as he stood alone in the center of the octagon.
Sweat, metal, and old blood hung in the air. The smell was familiar to anyone who had ever stepped inside a fighting gym. The crowd pressed close around the cage, voices merging into a single living wall of noise.
Shane forced himself to breathe slowly.
Deep.
Controlled.
Bjorn had drilled the breathing rhythm into him for three straight days.
In through the nose.
Out through the mouth.
Keep the body calm.
Keep the mind clear.
His system interface shimmered faintly at the edge of his vision, offering tactical data, threat projections, and movement prediction overlays.
Shane ignored most of it.
The real fight would be won by discipline, not information.
Across the cage, the theatrics began.
Jack Paul was playing to the audience.
He bounced on the balls of his feet, waving his arms, soaking in the attention of the crowd like a cheap entertainer desperate for validation.
Then suddenly—
He collapsed.
No stumble.
No convincing act.
Just a dead drop.
The crowd groaned.
Then came the announcement that his second would take his place.
Boos erupted instantly.
From the corner of his eye Shane saw Olaf's expression tighten. The champion's patience clearly had limits, and this amateur stunt had pushed against them.
Bjorn stood ringside.
Perfect suit.
Perfect posture.
Perfectly calm.
He gave Shane a single, measured nod.
The signal was simple.
Everything was proceeding.
Messy.
But proceeding.
Shane returned the nod.
A small surge of confidence pushed away the nerves.
He had the system.
He had the training.
And, he thought grimly, AN had already sacrificed one pawn to bring this moment about.
The bull had fallen.
Now came the Holmgang.
The referee ushered Jack Paul away from the cage, leaving only Shane and the replacement fighter.
Krell.
The man looked like a concrete wall given legs.
Wide shoulders. Thick neck. Dense muscle stacked on bone.
But what truly set him apart was the energy radiating off him.
Shane's system flared instantly.
APEX NEGATIVA INFLUENCE: ACTIVE
Krell moved forward like a freight train.
The fight began.
No bell.
No round timer.
Just the oldest rule of combat:
First blood.
Submission.
Or unconsciousness.
Krell attacked immediately.
His punches were crude but devastating, massive hooks meant to shatter bone. The borrowed power of Apex Negativa amplified every movement, giving the strikes a violent momentum that shook the air.
Shane moved.
Not fast enough to expose the supernatural.
Just fast enough.
Super Speed hummed quietly beneath the surface, guiding his footwork without revealing itself.
Foresight flickered.
Tiny glimpses of the future.
Angles of attack.
Lines of motion.
He slipped the first punch.
Blocked the second.
Parried the third.
Krell roared and pressed forward, swinging harder.
The fight turned brutal.
Blocks slammed against bone.
Gloves cracked against forearms.
The cage rattled when Krell's missed punches struck metal.
The crowd loved it.
Chaos.
Violence.
Exactly the kind of emotional frenzy Apex Negativa thrived on.
Shane absorbed a glancing blow to the ribs.
Pain exploded through his side.
System metrics dipped briefly into yellow.
He stayed upright.
He waited.
He needed the right opening.
One that looked natural.
One that wouldn't expose anything impossible.
Minutes stretched.
The crowd's screaming became background noise.
Finally—
Krell committed.
The massive fighter roared and threw everything into a single right-handed haymaker aimed straight at Shane's jaw.
If it landed, the fight was over.
This was the moment.
Shane shifted.
Not back.
Forward.
Super Speed engaged for a single microscopic burst.
The punch tore through empty air.
Before Krell's momentum could recover—
Shane was behind him.
His arms snapped into place instantly.
Bjorn's training took over.
The hybrid choke.
Shane locked the massive forearm under his own and tightened the hold across Krell's neck and shoulder.
Then he squeezed.
Super Strength surged through his arms.
Krell thrashed violently.
The borrowed celestial power flared, trying to compensate for the physical restriction, but the choke controlled his entire upper frame.
Blood flow slowed.
Air vanished.
Krell's face turned purple.
Seconds passed.
The giant fighter staggered.
Then went limp.
The referee stepped in quickly.
Shane released the hold.
Krell collapsed unconscious.
The arena exploded.
The announcer's voice thundered across the crowd.
"Winner… Shane Albright!"
The noise was deafening.
But Shane watched the reactions carefully.
Jack Paul looked terrified.
Olaf smiled.
Bjorn allowed the smallest hint of satisfaction to cross his face.
Shane stepped back, breathing hard.
Olaf approached him, wiping a thin line of blood from a shallow cut on his own forearm.
The injury hadn't come from the fight.
Shane was certain of that.
Olaf clapped him on the shoulder.
"Good fight, Roofer."
"You fight with honor."
He nodded once.
"We finish papers tomorrow."
Bjorn moved beside Shane as they exited the cage.
"We must monitor Olaf closely," he murmured quietly.
"Apex Negativa will not accept this loss."
"Krell was only a tool."
As they moved through the service corridor, Shane noticed movement near the entrance where Krell had been dragged.
Jack Paul was hauling the unconscious fighter toward a side utility door.
The trainer looked panicked.
Desperate.
Neither Shane nor Bjorn saw the flash of light inside the shadowed hallway.
Apex Negativa had lost patience.
Krell's borrowed power ripped backward toward its source.
Inside Jack Paul's mind a voice thundered.
"Your service is complete."
"Reward revoked."
"Death postponed."
"You will serve as the next vessel."
Krell's body disintegrated into fine black dust.
Jack Paul staggered.
Then straightened.
When he stepped back into the hallway, something inside him had changed.
The nervous influencer was gone.
Something colder looked out through his eyes.
⸻
Outside the arena, Bjorn guided Shane toward their vehicle.
"We must secure Olaf," he said quietly.
"AN will attempt to reclaim the situation immediately."
Shane nodded.
"I noticed."
"Krell's energy didn't vanish."
"It moved."
He scanned the exiting crowd.
"I'll use Copy."
Bjorn raised an eyebrow.
"Not Olaf," Shane added. "Too dangerous."
"Someone peripheral."
He scanned the crowd.
System analysis flickered rapidly.
Finally—
A young local fighter standing near the Albright group.
Close enough to observe.
Irrelevant enough not to attract attention.
Shane locked eyes with him.
The system activated.
COPY INITIATED
Duration: Two hours.
The awareness link formed instantly.
Shane stepped away as the Albright group gathered nearby.
Gary stood steady.
Amanda remained close beside him.
Ben and the documentation team were already discussing paperwork logistics.
Shane spoke calmly.
"Stay close tonight."
"Bjorn and I will secure Olaf."
"Gary, you and Amanda stay with the staff."
"If anything feels wrong, call Bjorn first."
Bjorn gave Gary a quiet nod.
"Stay sober," he said.
"This is exactly the kind of pressure AN exploits."
Gary nodded firmly.
"No problem."
The group dispersed.
Moments later Shane slipped deeper into the crowd, experiencing the world briefly through the copied fighter's senses.
Celebration.
Cheap beer.
Laughter.
A walk toward a nearby bar.
Nothing suspicious.
No pursuit.
No threat.
After a short time Shane released the connection.
The copied awareness faded, leaving the memory neatly stored within his system.
Meanwhile, inside the building, Olaf sat alone behind his desk.
Thinking.
Shane Albright had fought like a warrior of the old sagas.
And Bjorn…
The accountant carried an ancient resonance Olaf had not felt in centuries.
Something old was stirring again.
Olaf leaned back in his chair.
Perhaps his long hibernation was ending.
Then the office door opened.
Jack Paul entered.
But the man who stepped inside was no longer the same person.
The nervous energy was gone.
In its place radiated something colder.
Something far more dangerous.
Apex Negativa had arrived.
⸻
Outside, Shane stopped mid-step.
His system screamed warnings.
Two massive celestial signatures had just spiked.
One he recognized instantly.
Apex Negativa.
The other—
The faint ember connected to Olaf.
But it was no longer faint.
It was awakening.
The air itself felt heavy.
The next confrontation had already begun.
And it wasn't happening in three days.
It was happening now.
********************
"If you enjoyed Shane's journey, please drop a Power Stone! It helps the Common Sense Party grow!"