The city lights burned brighter tonight.
But Blaine's focus was narrower. Sharper. The pipe hung at his side, unused since the second fight. His body had recovered. The ache was gone. The hunger was not.
He found Kade in the same place. Same street. Same wall. As if he'd never moved.
"Back already?"
Kade's voice carried the same casual tone as before, but his eyes were sharper tonight. He'd seen the scan by now. He knew the number had changed.
Blaine stopped ten meters away. No pipe raised. No stance. Just stillness.
[Strength: 8]
Kade's eyes flicked upward, reading his own display. "Eight. That was fast." He pushed off the wall, hands sliding out of his pockets. "Most people take a week to climb two points. You took a night."
"I had help."
Kade laughed. A short, genuine sound. "Yeah. I bet you did."
He cracked his neck. Rolled his shoulders. The casual demeanor was still there, but something underneath it had shifted. Not fear. Respect. The kind one predator gives another before a fight.
"Same terms?" Blaine asked.
"Same terms. You win, you get answers. I win—" Kade grinned. "You get back up and try again later."
Blaine nodded.
Kade moved first.
Fast. Always fast. But Blaine had seen this speed before. He'd spent the night fighting people stronger than this. The gap that had overwhelmed him hours ago was smaller now. Not gone. But manageable.
He sidestepped the first strike. Deflected the second. The third came faster—Kade's signature rhythm, two probing attacks and then the real commitment. Blaine didn't wait for the opening after the second strike this time. He made one.
He stepped into the third strike instead of away from it, letting Kade's fist graze his shoulder while his own hand drove forward. The pipe caught Kade across the ribs. Solid. Clean.
Crack.
Kade hissed through his teeth. "Better."
He shifted tactics. Less aggressive. More measured. He'd learned from last time too. The next exchange was a blur of blocks and counters, neither landing clean. Blaine's mind tracked the patterns, catalogued the adjustments. He's adapting mid-fight. So am I.
The next opening came from a feint. Blaine pretended to favor his left side—a slight drop of the shoulder, barely perceptible. Kade took the bait. His strike came high, aimed at the supposed weakness. Blaine was already low. Already moving.
The pipe caught Kade behind the knee. He buckled. Blaine stepped in, fist driving toward his ribs—
Kade caught his wrist.
"Nice try."
The counter was immediate. A headbutt. Blaine barely turned his face in time, the impact glancing off his cheekbone instead of his nose. Pain flared. His grip on the pipe loosened. Kade twisted, threw him back.
Blaine hit the ground. Rolled. Came up breathing hard.
Kade stood a few meters away. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. A bruise was already forming along his ribs. But he was still standing. Still dangerous.
"You fight like someone who's been doing this a long time," Kade said. "But the body's still catching up to the instincts. I can see it. The hesitation. Half a second, sometimes less. But it's there."
Blaine didn't deny it. He'd felt it himself. The gap between what his mind knew and what his body could execute was closing, but it wasn't closed yet.
Then stop hesitating.
He moved.
Faster than before. Not because his strength had changed—it hadn't. But because he'd stopped thinking about what his body couldn't do and started trusting what it could. The pipe became an extension of his arm. The strikes became fluid. No pause. No half-second lag.
Kade's eyes widened.
The first hit cracked against his guard. The second slipped through and caught his shoulder. The third—a low sweep with the pipe—took his legs out completely.
He hit the ground hard.
Blaine stood over him. Breathing steady. The pipe rested against Kade's chest. Not striking. Just resting. A full stop.
Kade stared up at him. Then laughed. Loud. Unrestrained.
"Alright. Alright. You win."
He pushed the pipe aside and sat up, wiping blood from his lip. His grin was still there, but something behind it had changed. Not respect. Something closer to recognition.
"I've been stuck at nine for two weeks," he said. "You hit eight in one night. That's not normal. That's not even close to normal."
Blaine lowered the pipe. No system message followed. No absorption. No gain. He noted the silence. No kill. No reward. The system only rewards elimination or absorption. Surrender yields nothing. He filed the rule away for later. Not every victory would make him stronger. Some would only teach.
"You said you had answers."
Kade nodded. He climbed to his feet slowly, favoring his ribs. "There's a place. Underground. Sector nine. Real hunting ground. Not street fights. Not civilians. Monsters. Strong ones. The kind that give better gains." He looked Blaine up and down. "If you're climbing this fast on street trash, you'll explode down there."
The system pulsed faintly.
[New Location Unlocked: Sector 9]
[Threat Level: High]
[Reward Potential: Significant]
Blaine stored the information.
"Why tell me?"
Kade shrugged. "Because someone told me. The strong stay strong by sharing information. The weak stay weak by hoarding it." He turned to leave, then paused. "One more thing. There's a guy. Strength ten. Name's Doran. He hunts in Sector nine. Works alone. If you see him—" His expression flickered. "Be careful. He doesn't test people. He ends them."
The emblem. The crossed lines on the forearm. The man at the intersection.
Doran.
Blaine nodded once.
Kade disappeared into the night.
Blaine stood alone under the streetlight. His body was sore. His knuckles were split. The rematch had cost him, but the debt was paid. He had answers now. A location. A name. A warning.
The system pulsed.
[Strength: 8]
Not ten yet. But close.
He turned and walked toward the darker streets. Not to rest. To prepare.