Ash''s pulse thudded in his ears, each beat a reminder of the pain that was gnawing at his body. His ribs screamed, his back burned, and his mind fought to stay sharp. His eyes never left the opponent—the serpent, as Ren had called him. The fighter was already back on his feet, his stance low, his eyes narrowing. The smirk from earlier had vanished, replaced by something colder, more focused.


    The crowd''s roar faded into a dull hum in Ash''s head. All that mattered now was the fight. He could feel the sweat dripping down his face, stinging his eyes, but it was a small discomfort compared to the fire in his chest and the sharp throb in his leg. He had to push through.


    The serpent''s eyes flickered again, this time to the left, toward the stands. The briefest of glances, but it had been enough. Whatever it was—whoever it was—it had shifted the fight in Ash''s favor. The hesitation had been fleeting, but it was all he needed.


    Ren''s voice broke through the silence like a crack of thunder. "Well, well. Looks like the ghost isn''t done yet."


    Ash didn''t hesitate. He surged forward, closing the distance between him and the serpent before the man had time to fully reset. His movements were sharp and unpredictable, blending quick strikes with feints, forcing his opponent into a defensive stance. Ash''s knee slammed into the fighter''s side again, then a quick jab to the ribs, followed by a sweeping low kick. He had no plan—he was improvising, trying to keep his opponent on his heels. The serpent had precision, yes, but Ash was relentless.


    The crowd''s noise crescendoed with each strike, and for a moment, Ash felt like he was outside of himself, just moving on instinct, reacting without thinking. The serpent''s eyes flickered with annoyance, his fluid motions now looking more strained as he struggled to predict Ash''s erratic approach.


    Ash dodged a counter-attack—a quick jab to his jaw—and immediately pressed forward. He was faster than before. His body was almost anticipating the serpent''s movements before they happened, a sensation that felt familiar yet entirely out of his control. There was something happening—something shifting inside him—but he didn''t have time to consider it. He was here, in the fight, and this was the only thing that mattered.


    The serpent''s gaze flickered once more, but this time, Ash didn''t let him off the hook. He launched a powerful roundhouse kick, aiming for the man''s head. The serpent barely managed to lean back in time, but the force of the strike grazed his cheek, sending him stumbling back a step.


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    For a heartbeat, Ash felt the tension lift. He was in control now. The serpent''s composure was cracking, and Ash could see it. The fighter''s movements were more urgent, more hesitant. Ash took advantage of it, stepping in with another brutal combination—a left hook, followed by a knee to the chest. The serpent staggered, barely keeping his footing.


    But then, the momentary lapse was over. The serpent''s eyes hardened, his focus sharpening once more. He lunged—swift as a strike from a viper. His arm shot out like a whip, but Ash had already anticipated it. He sidestepped, ducking under the punch, and countered with a quick elbow to the side of the man''s head.


    Pain exploded in Ash''s shoulder from the force of the collision, but he didn''t stop. He couldn''t. The air in the cage seemed to tighten around him, each breath coming harder than the last, but he fought through it. One more hit.


    The serpent twisted again, trying to grab hold of Ash''s wrist. But this time, Ash was ready. He slipped his arm out of the grip, fluid as water, and locked the serpent into a clinch. Their bodies tangled for a moment, a blur of motion, before Ash''s knee drove into the fighter''s stomach. He followed it up with an elbow to the back of the neck, and the serpent crumpled, one knee hitting the floor.


    But Ash wasn''t finished. He could hear the crowd—could feel their hunger for blood, the weight of their expectations. He needed to end this now.


    With a roar, he yanked the serpent up by the shoulders, his muscles screaming in protest, and spun him toward the cage wall. With a sickening thud, the serpent''s back slammed against the steel. He staggered, dazed, and Ash didn''t give him time to recover. He closed the distance in an instant, his fist connecting with the side of the man''s face.


    The serpent crumpled to the ground.


    For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. The crowd, too stunned to react, held their breath. Ash stood over the fallen fighter, his body trembling with exhaustion, his chest heaving as he sucked in air. He had done it. He had won. But the fight wasn''t over yet.


    He glanced up to the stands, searching for that gaze, the one that had made the serpent hesitate. It was then he saw him—a figure in the upper stands, watching intently. Unlike the rest of the gamblers and spectators, this man wasn''t here for the spectacle. His eyes gleamed with something else. Something that sent a chill down Ash''s spine.


    Interest.


    The man''s eyes didn''t move. They stayed locked on Ash, piercing through the haze of the cage, and Ash felt a cold shiver crawl up his spine. Who was this man? And why was he watching so intently?


    Ash''s breathing steadied, but the unease that settled in his chest refused to go away. There was something about this fight, about the people watching, that didn''t sit right.


    Ren''s voice broke the silence again, her tone sharp and full of mockery. "That was a hell of a show, ghost-boy. Too bad you didn''t make it a clean win."


    Ash didn''t look at her. He couldn''t. His eyes stayed locked on the figure in the stands, who remained unmoving, still as stone.


    The bell rang, signaling the end of the fight. But Ash''s mind was already racing. Something had changed. Something bigger than just the fight. Something he wasn''t ready for.


    And the man in the stands had a part to play in it.