I never knew what happiness was. I was born to a dirt-poor family in the impoverished regions of Mindanao. I don't even remember where exactly, all I can recall was that everything smelled rotten. I was not special. There were many other people living, if you could even call it that, like me in this place. I don't remember how many siblings I had, or why my parents had so many. They barely had anything to support themselves, let alone any children.
As soon as I was able to walk without support, I was put to work by my father. Carrying around heavy bags of whatever every single day, with those bags weighing more than me. I carried them across great distances all so I could earn enough to let me live for one more day. My clothes were tattered, and if I was lucky, I got to wear what were sorry excuses for shoes. My parents were deeply religious, and that obviously rubbed off on me. Which made me wonder; Why was I born in a place as shitty as this? Why is there constant suffering, if this "God" is all-powerful? To test us? What's the point in testing those who can barely stand up for themselves?
I desired death, but I was too scared to go through with it myself, which makes sense. I believe that all humans have an inherent fear of death. I prayed, and prayed, and prayed, over and over again, waiting for the day I would be released from this miserable hell hole. There were days where all that I could eat were leftovers on the ground. At that point, I've never tasted clean water. Sometimes I'd have to fight stray dogs over my food, because my parents would hog what little was left for themselves.
That's not even the worst of what they would do. They would constantly hit me and my siblings if we didn't bring back enough for the day. At first, I cried as any normal child would, but as time went on, I felt numb to the pain. What's the point of crying? It's not going to help with the situation, and it was a waste of energy. It was better to sit still and accept the beatings.
One day, while I was on a job to carry some sacks of cement, I noticed a crowd near the warehouse I was supposed to drop it off at. I don't know what spurred me on, but as soon as I delivered it to its destination I ran towards the crowd. I knew I'd be punished for being late, but I didn't care.
There I saw a fighting ring made of wood, with the fighter's entrances branded with the organization that was hosting the fight. Of course, I would only later realize that this was a Paraiso match. But back to the point, I was amazed. Seeing people fight for the first time awakened something in me, and I was hooked. That was also the first time I had seen you fight. Yes, on that day, I saw THE Jack "The Stinger" Wayne in his prime. It was the fight between you and Jerry Jackson, like I said when I met you again two years ago.
After your win, you began smiling and celebrating, and the crowd followed suit. I didn't really understand, but I loved the feeling of what was going on. I think I was 12 during that time. I got home late, and of course I was punished for it, but I didn't feel disheartened like before. I wanted to be just like you. I burnt your moves into my eyes, and I imitated them every single day, however inefficient they were.
By sheer coincidence I was able to stumble across another one of your fights. This time, I was hyper focused, trying to copy each of your moves. Of course, what I was able to do was a mere imitation, but it was the best I got.
With this new fire lit under me, I was even more motivated to work. I worked my ass off so I could have food for myself, in order to bulk up. I even started taking more dangerous jobs, like stealing something from a specific person, or even fighting them. But for the first time in my life, I was happy, I felt like I was living!
By the time I was 15, I was decently muscular, and my sense of fighting had greatly improved. Despite only having a poor imitation of your moves, I was able to combine that with my rough and dirty style of fighting. Of course, my parents would take notice of this change and promptly demanded a share of the money. I declined. They had not even done the bare minimum, other than being the reason I was born. My father tried to attack me, but it was no use for I had grown much more powerful than him, and that was when I beat him to death. That was the first life I ever took, and it wasn't going to be the last. I ran away from home soon after.
I had no name; I had no records proving that I existed. The name Leonardo DeGuzman? I just saw a sign with the name on it, and I decided to take that name.
Eventually, I stumbled upon a place where I could use my skills to use. I turned into muscle for hire, taking up any job in order to survive. From being a bodyguard, to being a hitman. There was practically no job I wouldn't take up. I killed politicians, other hitmen, and pretty much anyone who would stand in my way.
Of course, not being trained in formal martial arts I got hurt a lot. You'd be more surprised to see areas where I didn't have scars. Still, I was…alive. I overheard the other hitmen in the place talk about me behind my back. They talked about how merciless I was, and how the last thing most of my victims would see was the wicked smile of a demon. I turned into a monster. I turned into "The Halimaw."
I caused so much death and destruction, all so that I can live. I regret my actions. By relieving myself of my own suffering, I caused other people to suffer. The families of those I've killed, and the people I've scarred forever, like Punyawit Kaemkratok. I felt guilty, I still do, but there was a side of me that enjoyed it. I enjoyed fighting. Despite being so young, I became one of the organization's best, though I can't recall what they were called right now.
Eventually, the organization was dissolved, and I was left jobless. I don't know the full details, but I remember hearing someone called "Death Dance" was responsible for its dissolution. From what I recall, Death Dance was part of the organization and was a high-ranking hitman. I don't know why he would destroy the organization, but it was probably for the best.
I still had a decent amount of money, but I had nowhere to place it. There was a charity for kids with no education, so I donated it all there. I knew I could find another job soon anyway. I steered clear of jobs like those again and instead became hired muscle for a moving company. It didn't pay much, but it paid enough for me to survive. And occasionally, I would donate some of that money to any charity I could. It was my way of atoning for everything I've done before that point. I know I don't deserve redemption, but I still did it anyway.
Still, I regularly got into fights despite my more peaceful job. It was mainly just desperate thieves looking to make a quick buck. I racked up even more scars. Eventually, I quit and was left wandering on the streets once more.
Just as I was about to hunker down in a crappy motel, I saw two men trying to rob a little store. That was when I met you again, and well, you know what happened after that. I…honestly can't tell you how lucky I am that I was able to meet you again, and to be trained under you. Thank you so much for putting up with my selfish request, and for giving me a home where I don't have to worry about being attacked in the middle of the night. Thank you for providing me with a place where I can rest my wounds and thank you for giving me the opportunity to fight before my flame finally dies out.
Leonardo starts breaking down in tears after telling his story. Jack hugs him, while also crying.
- "It's too late for me to turn back now."
Leonardo says, sniffling. Jack wipes off his tears. He has finally accepted that there is nothing he can do to convince Leonardo to stop. He realizes that even if he did stop Leonardo, there is no way for him to prevent his death.
He just has to watch it through to the end. The two stopped crying.
- "So, once more Leonardo, what do you want to be?"
Jack says, with determination on his face. Leonardo grabs his hand with a smile.
- "I want to be the strongest in the world!"
He exclaims, knowing his inevitable fate.
- "Alright, just rest your body for the rest of the day. There's no point in overworking it. I'll be by your side as you rest."
Jack replies. Leonardo smiles before going back to sleep. The second rest day comes to a close, and with that, the final day of the tournament dawns upon everyone on Paradise Island.