Chapter 39
The announcer's voice cut through the noise, and Elijah heard his name.
He stood up slowly, his hands in his pockets, his jacket already off.
The crowd was still buzzing from Henry's fight, money still changing hands, voices still rising and falling in waves.
But when Elijah moved toward the steps, something shifted. Eyes turned, and Heads tilted.
A path opened, not because they knew him, but because they didn't.
Kai leaned forward in his seat. "Show them what you are."
Henry didn't say anything. He just watched, his green eyes following Elijah down the steps.
The announcer called the other name. "Damon."
The name landed like a stone dropped into still water. Ripples of recognition spread through the crowd. Elijah heard it in the whispers, saw it in the way people leaned toward each other, money changing hands faster now, odds being recalculated.
"Damon hasn't lost in months."
"He put down three men last week."
"Who is this guy fighting him?"
Damon Cross climbed into the ring from the opposite side, and Elijah understood immediately why the crowd knew his name.
He was not a large man, not in the way Jack was large, but there was a density to him that had nothing to do with size. His shoulders were broad, his arms thick, his chest wide. His skin was dark, the color of coffee with too much cream, and his head was shaved clean, the scalp smooth under the lights. His face was plain—a flat nose, a wide mouth, eyes that were almost black. But it was the way he moved that caught Elijah's attention. Every step was measured, every shift of weight deliberate. He climbed through the ropes and stood in his corner, his hands loose at his sides, his eyes already on Elijah.
His Ki was dense, controlled, coiled in his chest like a spring. Beginner Knight Stage Mid, the same as Henry. With Elijah only being Beginner Knight Stage Low.
The bell rang.
He reached for Zenith, not the full surge, but Thirty percent. The warmth spread through his chest, into his arms, his legs, his back. His muscles tightened and his vision sharpened. The noise of the crowd faded to a distant hum.
His stats shifted behind his eyes, numbers climbing.
Strength: 27 → 35
Endurance: 23 → 30
Defense: 23 → 30
Damon moved first.
He crossed the ring in two steps, faster than a man his size should have been able to move. His fist came at Elijah's face, and Elijah barely got his guard up in time. The impact jarred through his arms, sent him stumbling back a step. His forearms throbbed where the punch had landed.
Damon didn't stop. He pressed forward, his fists coming in combinations—left, right, left—each punch carrying the weight of his Ki circulation which increases his stats by 15%. Elijah blocked, dodged, took a hit to the shoulder that made his arm go numb. He threw a punch of his own, a straight right that caught Damon in the chest, and Damon grunted but didn't move. He just kept coming.
The crowd was screaming. Elijah could hear them now, individual voices rising above the roar.
"Put him down!"
"He's not blocking!"
"Damon!"
Elijah reset his stance, his feet finding the mat, his hands coming up higher. He had been reacting, letting Damon set the pace. That had to stop.
Damon came at him again, his fist aimed at Elijah's jaw. This time Elijah didn't block. He moved inside the punch, felt the wind of it pass his ear, and drove his elbow into Damon's ribs. The impact was solid, satisfying, and Damon's breath left him in a grunt. Elijah followed with a knee to the thigh, then a punch to the stomach, then another to the same ribs.
Damon stepped back, his hand pressing against his side, his eyes narrowing. The first sign of pain Elijah had seen on his face.
"Good," Damon said. His voice was low, rough. "You're not just a pretty face."
Elijah didn't answer. He moved forward.
The fight changed after that. They circled each other, testing, feinting, each looking for the opening that would end it. Elijah threw a jab that Damon slipped, and Damon answered with a hook that Elijah ducked. They traded punches in the center of the ring, neither giving ground, both taking hits that would have dropped lesser fighters.
Elijah's lip split. He tasted blood. His ribs ached where Damon had landed a kick. His knuckles were raw, the skin broken.
Damon was bleeding too. A cut above his eye, blood running down his cheek, mixing with the sweat on his face. His breathing was heavier now, his Ki flickering as his body tired. But he hadn't slowed. If anything, he was pushing harder, his punches coming faster, his movements more desperate.
The crowd was on its feet. Elijah could see them from the corner of his eye, a wall of faces, mouths open, hands raised. Money didn't matter now.
Damon threw a wild punch, his weight shifting too far forward, and Elijah saw a opening.
He stepped inside the punch, felt it pass over his shoulder, and drove his fist into Damon's jaw with everything he had. The impact snapped Damon's head to the side, his body following, his feet leaving the mat for a moment. He hit the ropes and bounced forward, and Elijah was there. His knee came up and drove into Damon's chest. His fist came down and caught Damon on the side of the head.
Damon went down.
He hit the mat on his back, his arms splayed, his chest heaving. His Ki flickered once, twice, and went dark. His eyes were open but unfocused, staring at the lights above the ring. Blood seeped from the cut above his eye, pooling on the canvas beneath his head.
The crowd exploded.
Elijah stood over him for a moment, his chest rising and falling, his fists still raised. His body was screaming, his ribs aching, his knuckles raw, his lip split.
The announcer's voice cut through the noise. "Winner Elijah."
Elijah lowered his hands and looked out at the seats.
Kai was on his feet, clapping, his face split in a grin.
Henry was standing too, his arms crossed, but there was something in his eyes that hadn't been there before.
Respect, maybe or the beginning of it.
Elijah climbed out of the ring and walked back up the steps.
The crowd parted for him differently now.
He dropped into his seat and let his head fall back against the wall.
His body was heavy, the warmth of Zenith fading, leaving behind the ache of the fight.
His lip was still bleeding. His ribs throbbed with every breath.
"Not bad," Henry said.
Elijah turned his head. Henry was looking at him, his green eyes steady.
"Not bad," Elijah said back.
Kai laughed and slapped the armrest of his seat. "That's my guy."
Elijah closed his eyes and let the noise of the crowd wash over him.
Somewhere in the ring, another fight was starting.
Somewhere in the seats, people were talking about him, remembering his face, placing bets on his next fight.
Somewhere in the far corner, Jack Reyes was watching.