Chapter 63: Championship Final Set
The silence lasted exactly three seconds.
Then the colosseum exploded.
Thousands of voices crashed together in a wave of pure shock. Gamblers who’d bet heavy on the Viper screamed curses at the cage. Those who’d taken the long odds on the unknown masked fighter jumped and pounded each other’s shoulders. Coins changed hands.
In the VIP boxes above, a crime boss in a purple silk mask dropped his crystal goblet. Dark wine splashed across his white trousers. He didn’t even notice. His eyes were locked on the masked figure standing in the cage.
"What in the world did I just watch?" he muttered.
Near the betting windows, a scarred old man with a leather ledger laughed so hard his shoulders shook. He flipped through pages of handwritten bets, counting stacks of gold coins with greedy fingers.
"Asura," he cackled. "Oh, this masked mystery is going to make me rich."
Holden stood in the center of the cage, surrounded by broken sword pieces and an unconscious veteran. He didn’t acknowledge the chaos. He didn’t move at all.
The cage door opened.
Two handlers rushed in to drag the Viper’s limp body away. One of them glanced at Holden with naked fear before grabbing his partner’s arm and practically running.
"NEXT MATCH!" the announcer screamed, his voice cracking with excitement. "WE’RE MOVING STRAIGHT TO ROUND TWO! NO BREAKS! FIGHTERS, GET IN THE CAGE!"
Holden walked out one side of the pit.
A huge man walked in the other.
This opponent was built like a boulder given human form. Thick arms. Tree-trunk legs. A neck that was wider than most people’s heads. He cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders, eyeing Holden with a sneer.
"Stonejaw," the announcer bellowed. "RANK TWO, FOUR-STAR GRAPPLER! FORTY-TWO WINS BY SUBMISSION! HE’S NEVER BEEN KNOCKED OUT!"
Stonejaw spat on the sand. "Don’t matter if you’re tough, mask boy. I’m gonna wrap you up like a pretzel and snap every joint you got. You’ll be screaming for mercy in under ten seconds."
The cage door locked.
Ding!
Stonejaw charged forward, arms spread wide to catch Holden in a crushing bear hug. His strategy was obvious. Get his hands on the target, use his superior mass, and break something important.
Holden’s body moved on instinct honed by a thousand times processing speed.
He sidestepped the grab with perfectly. His fist snapped out in a straight line.
Thwack!
The punch hit Stonejaw right in the chin. The big man’s eyes went glassy. He stumbled forward two more steps, then fell straight down onto his face like a felled tree.
The entire colosseum went quiet again.
Stonejaw didn’t move.
"...Asura wins," the announcer said weakly.
[Ding!]
[Rank 2 (4-Star) Cultivator Defeated!]
[Base Reward: 500 KP]
[Colosseum Victory Bonus: +500 KP]
[2x KP Booster Applied!]
[Total: +2,000 KP]
[Current Balance: 15,790 KP]
"ROUND THREE!" The announcer’s voice had climbed an octave higher. "IS THIS MASKED MAN HUMAN, OR IS HE A MONSTER SENT FROM THE ABYSS TO TORTURE OUR BETTING POOLS?!"
Another cage door opened.
A thin woman slinked into the cage. She wore a coat of mismatched leather patches, each one stained a different color. Her fingers ended in long metal claws that dripped with something viscous and purple.
"Toxicara!" the announcer yelled. "RANK TWO, FOUR-STAR POISON SPECIALIST! HER CLAWS HAVE KILLED MORE FIGHTERS THAN PLAGUE!"
Toxicara smiled, revealing blackened teeth. "Pretty mask you got there, newcomer. Let’s see how pretty you look when your insides are melting."
She moved fast, faster than the grappler. Her claws slashed in complicated patterns, each swipe leaving trails of purple mist in the air.
Holden watched the patterns unfold.
His 1,000x multiplier processed her movements before she even completed them. He saw the feints. The real strikes hidden behind the fake ones. The slight hesitation before her actual attack.
She thrust her right claw toward his throat.
Holden ducked under it. His palm struck upward in a vicious arc.
Crack!
The blow caught Toxicara directly under the chin. Her head snapped back from the force. She lost consciousness instantly, and her eyes rolled up. She collapsed into a messy heap on the ground.
Nine seconds had passed since the bell.
The colosseum descended into chaos.
People were standing on their seats. Some were crying. Others were laughing hysterically. A group of syndicate thugs had started a fistfight over a disputed bet. The noise was deafening.
"ASURA WINS! ASURA WINS THREE STRAIGHT MATCHES WITHOUT TAKING A SINGLE HIT!" The announcer was screaming now, lost in the madness. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WE HAVE OUR CHAMPIONSHIP FINAL! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! THE UNKNOWN MASKED FIGHTER WILL FACE THE REIGNING CHAMPION FOR THE GRAND PRIZE!"
Holden walked out of the cage. His breathing was completely steady. His heart rate hadn’t changed.
Across the pit, Varga had stopped looking amused.
The Iron Fang boss stood from his position near the far wall. His thugs parted around him. He lifted his massive battle axe and pointed it across the crowded space directly at Holden.
"You," Varga growled, his voice booming over the noise of the crowd. "I don’t know who you are under that mask. I don’t care. You’ve made a mistake stepping into my territory."
He slammed his axe head against the floor, sending sparks flying.
"I was going to save my best work for those academy brats later this week. But you? You get the full treatment. I’m going to split that mask in half. Then I’m going to take my time with whatever’s underneath. You’ll beg for death before I’m done."
The Iron Fangs around him cheered and stamped their feet.
Varga’s scarred face twisted into a savage grin. "See you in the cage, ghost."
Holden stood at the edge of the pit.
The gold mask reflected the firelight without showing a single emotion.
He didn’t speak.
He didn’t nod.
He just stared at Varga through the narrow eye slits of his mask. He didn’t offer a word in response, and that cold silence was far more terrifying than any threat he could have made.