The underground arena roared with anticipation as the final match of the round approached. Rohan, known in the tournament as Ghost, took a deep breath as he stepped onto the battlefield. Across from him, towering like a monster, stood The Berserker—a fighter feared for his relentless, animalistic aggression.


    Aryan, still reeling from his own loss, placed a hand on Rohan’s shoulder. "All the best, bro. Fight smart."


    Rohan smirked, rolling his shoulders. "I always do."


    The announcer’s voice boomed through the underground colosseum.


    "Final match of the round! Ghost vs. The Berserker! LET THE BATTLE BEGIN!"


    The moment the bell rang, The Berserker charged forward like a rabid beast, his eyes bloodshot, his muscles rippling with raw strength. Rohan barely had time to react before a massive fist came hurtling toward his face. He dodged just in time, feeling the wind rush past his cheek as the blow missed by inches.


    Rohan countered with a lightning-fast kick to The Berserker’s ribs. The attack connected, but it was like kicking a steel wall. The Berserker barely flinched.


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    BOOM!


    A vicious elbow strike followed from The Berserker, and Rohan narrowly ducked under it. He retaliated with a sharp knee to the gut and then a spinning back kick to the jaw. This time, The Berserker staggered slightly, his head jerking back from the impact.


    The crowd gasped.


    Rohan smirked. "Not as tough as you look, huh?"


    The Berserker wiped a bit of blood from his lip and grinned. "I like it when they struggle."


    Then, he exploded forward with terrifying speed.


    THWACK! A brutal right hook smashed into Rohan’s ribs, sending shockwaves of pain through his body. He stumbled back, gasping for air. Before he could recover, a knee slammed into his stomach, lifting him off the ground.


    Rohan barely managed to roll away before a devastating hammer fist could crush his skull. He got back up, panting, his hands shaking slightly. He had fought tough opponents before, but The Berserker… he was different. He didn’t just fight—he devoured his enemies with sheer force.


    "Come on, Ghost! Get up!" Aryan shouted from the sidelines.


    Rohan gritted his teeth. He had to think. He couldn''t match The Berserker in strength, but speed and precision were his best bets. He adjusted his stance, analyzing the beast of a man in front of him.


    Tactical Shift.


    The moment The Berserker lunged again, Rohan moved like a shadow. He sidestepped, slipping past his opponent’s wild swings, landing precise counterstrikes—elbows to the jaw, kicks to the liver, jabs to the throat.


    For a moment, it seemed like Rohan was gaining the upper hand.


    Then it happened.


    The Berserker tanked a solid punch to the temple and smiled.


    "My turn."


    A massive knee crashed into Rohan’s chest, knocking the wind out of him. Before he could recover, a monstrous uppercut sent him flying backward. He hit the ground hard, coughing up blood.


    Aryan’s eyes widened. "Get up, Rohan!"


    Rohan groaned, barely able to move. His body screamed in pain, but he refused to surrender. He pushed himself up on shaky legs.


    CRACK!


    A devastating right hook crashed into his temple. His vision blurred. His ears rang.


    Then—darkness.


    The referee rushed in. "GHOST IS UNCONSCIOUS! THE BERSERKER WINS!"


    The crowd erupted in cheers as The Berserker raised his fists in victory. Aryan rushed to the ring, helping his friend sit up.


    Rohan groaned, blood dripping from his mouth. "Damn... that guy hits like a truck."


    Aryan clenched his fists. Both of them had lost. The tournament had shown them how much stronger they needed to become.


    As the medical team checked Rohan, Aryan’s mind raced.


    This wasn’t the end.


    It was just the beginning.