DING!

  Round 2 begins as both fighters rise up from the concrete ground, sweat and blood painting their skin. They step forward without hesitation, sliding into their fighting stances.

  Ronkai bursts forward, true to form, opening with a blistering combo. But Kain has learned his rhythm from the last round—his eyes sharper now, movements more precise. Ronkai swings a jab as a setup, but Kain slaps it away with a clean parry. Ronkai then throws a lead hook, follows with a rear uppercut, then feints and drives in a body hook to the ribs.

  But Kain anticipates it. He steps off the center line and shifts his center of gravity low, bobbing and weaving under the strikes with tight head movement. He counters fast—a jab, a hook, and a whipping roundhouse kick to the ribs. The kick erupts against Ronkai’s side, the impact ripping through his body as he grits his teeth and staggers sideways. Kain keeps a disciplined distance, eyes locked.

  “You're the only tough opponent I’ve ever faced,” Ronkai grins, his smile stretching wider, more unsettling than before. “It’s more satisfying after I rip your vocal cords.”

  “You have the choice to let me live and win,” Kain declares, steady and firm.

  “Oh yeah, I know that,” Ronkai replies, tone casual but dark. “But there’s no fun in that.”

  Ronkai rips forward again—jab, jab, jab. Kain slips each one, moving with smooth, reactive precision. He parries the last one clean, feeling Ronkai’s hand drop slightly—an opening. Ronkai suddenly launches an uppercut. Kain reacts, tilting his head to avoid it—but it was a feint.

  The real strike comes a split second later—a vicious lead uppercut that caves into Kain’s gut, folding him with brutal force. The rear hook was a decoy. His stomach compresses from the sheer impact, and blood bursts from his mouth, splattering the ground in crimson.

  Ronkai wastes no time and starts pummeling strikes, not letting Kain recover for even a second. Each blow carves a new pain into Kain’s body as he groans through gritted teeth. He raises his arms to block, but Ronkai slides his left foot and pivots, creating a fresh angle. He strikes again—fist exploding into Kain’s skin with such force it cracks bone slightly, Kain staggering from the impact as blood flies like rain in the air.

  Kain tries to anticipate the next strike, but Ronkai just doesn't stop—blasting him with blow after blow, not giving him even a moment to breathe, to think. Blood and bruises form across his frame like war paint. Each strike draws a grunt of pain—his head snapping back, sideways, downward, upward—relentless shots slamming into his ribs, shoulders, chin, and chest.

  Kain lifts his leg for a front kick, desperation fueling the motion, but Ronkai anticipates it, swatting it away with a forceful push and immediately keeps hammering, his fists like pistons, showing no mercy.

  Suddenly, Ronkai crouches low, punches from kain ripping through the air. Kain bends his knees, back straight, switching levels. Then—BOOM!—he takes an explosive step with his lead leg, stepping in between Ronkai’s stance. In a blink, he shoots forward with raw speed, snatching both of Ronkai’s thighs with a tight grip, elbows clamped close to his body, head pressed against Ronkai’s hip.

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  With all his power, Kain drives forward, his legs launching like a machine—simultaneously lifting and bridging through Ronkai’s balance point. He rips Ronkai off the ground and slams him down onto the cold concrete—THUD!—the impact echoing through the arena.

  Kain maintains a strong position, chest heaving but firm, his control tight like iron.

  Ronkai coughs blood, the slam knocking the wind from him, pain surging through his spine. Frustration flickers in his eyes—ground fighting isn't his strength, and now he’s paying for it.

  Kain transitions to full mount, locking his legs tightly around Ronkai's torso. Ronkai tries his best to escape, writhing beneath him, as he also maintains a tight close guard, arms coiled and muscles flexing as both fighters grind through the chaos of ground fighting.

  Kain makes a calculated decision and shifts his weight, transitioning to the bottom while still maintaining control. Ronkai struggles to break free, but Kain quickly locks him in a tight closed guard, keeping his legs wrapped around Ronkai’s waist like a vice. With a burst of speed, Kain sits up and scoots his hips back, adjusting his position with purpose and focus.

  Ronkai sees this and instinctively plants his arms on the ground to brace himself—but it’s too late.

  Kain shoots his dominant hand up and over Ronkai’s shoulder, while his other hand clamps tightly onto Ronkai’s wrist on the same side. He winds his top hand around the back of Ronkai’s arm and locks it in, clenching his own wrist with his bottom hand. Ronkai resists, squirming hard, muscles tensing and bulging, refusing to be controlled—but no success. Eventually, Kain grits through it and regains dominant control with patience and sheer technical pressure.

  Kain then uncrosses his legs, slides his hips to the side, working for space. It’s a struggle—grinding, inch by inch—but he manages. He keeps his arms close to his chest and scissor-locks his legs around Ronkai’s waist, anchoring him in place.

  Then, Kain pushes his bottom hand forward, rotating Ronkai’s arm—pressure building rapidly in the shoulder socket. Ronkai grits his teeth and groans, the strain showing in his face as his body fights against the inevitable. Kain keeps the torque going, bit by bit, until—POP!—the shoulder dislocates with a sharp, brutal sound.

  Ronkai groans loud, pain tearing through him—but his smile... his smile widens so unnaturally it looks like it might rip his face apart. Kain raises an eyebrow, confused but still on guard.

  Then, in a savage burst of defiance, Ronkai forces himself to escape—yanking hard, his dislocated shoulder twisting even further out of place as he tears himself free. He staggers backward, panting, body shaking.

  Kain quickly lifts himself up, eyes wide with shock at what he’s just seen.

  Ronkai stands tall, shoulder hanging at an awkward, messed-up angle. But he still smiles. Adrenaline floods his veins, pumping through him like fire as he steadies his stance, ready to keep going despite the pain ripping through his body.

  DING!!

  The bell rings, signaling the end of Round 2. Both fighters breathe heavily, their chests rising and falling like pistons as they stare each other down. Blood drips, bruises swell, but neither looks away. After a long moment, they both head to their corners.

  Kain is banged up—bruised, cut, blood streaking down his skin—but nothing too severe. He sits down, eyes focused, mind sharpening.

  Ronkai, on the other hand, has one major weakness—his shoulder. Still dislocated, the damage clearly affecting his posture. Then, with a faint mechanical whir, a robot rolls into the arena—a sanctioned part of the brutal tournament.

  It slides on sleek wheels, making rhythmic beeping sounds, a small mechanical arm extending from its frame. The robot injects something directly into Ronkai's system—an advanced serum that rapidly begins repairing the damage, though it only targets severe trauma. With a pop and a grim snap, his shoulder resets into place, tendons pulling tight and flesh knitting just enough to function.

  The rest of his body remains battered, untouched.

  The robot quietly retreats, sliding out of the arena without a word or pause.

  Ronkai slowly rolls his newly repaired shoulder, testing its mobility. Then he locks eyes with Kain again, that unsettling grin curling across his face.

  He’s got a plan for Round 3.