Chapter 38: The Fire of Ambition
<hr>
A Taste of Victory
Axel sat on the edge of the medical bay bed, rolling his shoulder, still feeling the lingering ache from his fight with Dante.
He had won.
Again.
But the thrill of victory didn’t sit right in his chest.
Because something was still wrong.
The stranger from before. The cryptic warnings. The files O.R.I.O.N. had unearthed.
<blockquote>
"You were never supposed to exist."
</blockquote>
Axel clenched his fists.
He had been so focused on surviving the tournament—he hadn’t stopped to question why he was different.
Tempo, sitting on a nearby stool, strummed a soft, calm blues riff.
"You''re thinking too much again," Tempo muttered.
Axel exhaled. "Yeah, well, a guy in a shadowy cloak basically told me my entire existence is a mistake. Hard not to overthink that."
Tempo plucked a note. "So what? You gonna start brooding now?"
Axel rolled his eyes. "No. But I want answers."
And he had a feeling those answers were closer than he thought.
<hr>
The Next Opponent
The tournament brackets updated on the massive holo-screens outside the coliseum.
Axel walked toward them, Tempo on his shoulder, scanning the list.
And then—he found it.
His next match.
<blockquote>
"Axel Mercer vs. Caden Ashford."
</blockquote>
Axel’s breath hitched.
Caden.
A name he knew.
Not because of fame. Not because of rank.
But because Caden was a ghost.
No official records. No public fights.
Yet somehow—he had torn through every opponent so far.
"Great," Axel muttered. "Another mystery guy."
"You really attract these types," Tempo said.
Before Axel could respond, a voice called from behind him.
"Looking for me?"
Axel turned.
And there he was.
Caden Ashford.
Tall, lean, effortlessly calm. He wore a sleeveless black combat jacket, his posture relaxed, but his eyes?
Sharp as a dagger.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
And beside him stood his Cipher Beast.
A crimson-furred Hellhound, smoke drifting from its mouth, molten cracks running along its skin like living fire.
It didn’t growl. Didn’t snarl.
It just watched.
Waiting.
Caden smirked. "I was hoping I’d fight you."
Axel narrowed his eyes. "That so?"
Caden tilted his head. "I like breaking interesting things."
Axel grinned.
"Good luck with that."
<hr>
The Flames Ignite
The match was set for the next day.
By the time Axel entered the arena, the crowd was already electric, the tension thick.
The announcer’s voice boomed.
<blockquote>
"ROUND FIVE: AXEL MERCER VS. CADEN ASHFORD!"
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
"BEGIN!"
</blockquote>
And Caden moved first.
Instantly.
A blur of motion, closing the distance in a breath.
Axel barely dodged as Caden’s fist grazed his jaw, heat radiating from the impact.
Damn.
Caden was fast.
Not just physically. Mentally.
No wasted movement. No hesitation.
And his Cipher Beast?
It didn’t even need a command.
The Hellhound leapt, fire flaring from its mouth as it snapped at Tempo.
Tempo twisted mid-air, strumming a sharp jazz note.
The soundwave countered the flames, dispersing them in a burst of heat.
Caden landed smoothly, smirking.
"Good reaction time."
Axel exhaled. "I try."
But Caden’s smirk only widened.
"You’re still too slow."
And then—he attacked again.
<hr>
Fire vs. Sound
Caden’s fighting style was relentless.
A mixture of speed and aggression, his attacks chaining together with flawless precision.
Every strike flowed into the next.
Calculated. Controlled.
Axel tried to read him—but there was nothing to read.
Caden was fighting pure instinct.
No patterns. No wasted motion.
Just adaptation.
Axel blocked a spinning kick—but barely.
His arms burned from the heat radiating off Caden’s attacks.
Tempo flicked his tail. "Alright, screw this. Time to break the rhythm."
And then—he played.
<hr>
A Solo Against the Flames
The moment Tempo’s fingers hit the strings, the sound changed.
No rhythm.
No predictability.
Just a chaotic, spiraling solo.
Jazz-infused notes that made the very air tremble.
Caden’s eyes narrowed.
His Hellhound snapped at nothing, its timing thrown completely off.
Axel moved.
Weaving through Caden’s attacks, his own movements becoming erratic. Improvised.
A step too far. A feint too late.
Caden hesitated.
And Axel struck.
A solid palm strike to Caden’s ribs.
Caden staggered.
The crowd exploded.
Axel grinned.
"You can adapt all you want," he said.
"But let’s see if you can keep up."
Caden exhaled.
Then—he smiled.
"Finally," he murmured. "A real fight."
And then—
Everything ignited.
<hr>
The Final Exchange
Caden’s Hellhound howled.
Flames erupted, consuming the battlefield.
The heat was suffocating.
Axel’s breath hitched as Caden surged forward, his entire body moving like a living inferno.
Too fast. Too strong.
Axel barely had time to react.
BOOM.
A fist crashed into his side.
Pain exploded through his ribs—but Axel twisted with the force, rolling out of the impact.
He landed, panting.
Caden stood, flames licking at his arms.
He wiped a trickle of blood from his lip.
"You’re fun," he admitted.
Axel smirked, ignoring the ache in his ribs. "You’re not bad yourself."
Then—they moved at the same time.
The final clash.
Fire vs. Sound.
Caden’s fist.
Axel’s knee.
Both struck simultaneously.
And then—
Silence.
One figure stood.
One collapsed.
The announcer’s voice shook the stadium.
<blockquote>
"MATCH OVER!"
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
"WINNER: AXEL MERCER!"
</blockquote>
The crowd erupted.
<hr>
The Aftermath
Caden sat up, rubbing his jaw.
Then—he laughed.
"Damn," he muttered. "You actually got me."
Axel offered a hand.
Caden stared at it—then took it.
"You know," Caden said, "I think I like you."
Axel raised an eyebrow. "That supposed to be a compliment?"
Caden smirked. "Sure. Let’s call it that."
As Axel stepped out of the arena, the tournament brackets updated.
And his next opponent?
His breath hitched.
<blockquote>
"Axel Mercer vs. Jace Stroud."
</blockquote>
Tempo whistled.
"Well," he said. "This is gonna be fun."
Axel grinned.
"Yeah. It is."