The double doors closed behind Xander with a soft click.
The sound was quiet, but it felt heavier than the arena noise below.
For half a second, he stood alone in the polished VIP corridor, breathing in air that smelled faintly of expensive cologne, clean carpet, and money that had never once worried about rent. The muffled roar of the tournament rolled through the walls beneath him, distant but constant, like the building had a second heartbeat.
Then the system chimed.
Xander nearly flinched.
A blue window snapped open in front of his face.
⠀
[SYSTEM PROMPT]
Quest Started: [The Phantom Born In Blood] (500 Exp!)
Objective: Defeat the Berserker Queen in battle.
Rewards:
???
???
New Unique Skill
Current Skill Upgrade
Failure Penalty:
???
Lose a potential connection with Orion Cross
Xander stared at the notification.
Then slowly exhaled through his nose.
Sigh… it's like clockwork. Never fails.
He read the rewards again.
The question marks bothered him, as usual. They always looked less like mystery and more like the system holding a knife behind its back while smiling politely.
But the visible rewards…
New Unique Skill.
Current Skill Upgrade.
That was not small.
Neither was the failure penalty.
Losing a connection with Orion Cross meant losing more than a possible guild invite. It meant losing access to someone powerful enough to make identification problems disappear. Someone who could potentially shield him from Nano Genics, or at least give him enough breathing room to stop running like a corpse with overdue paperwork.
"The question marks are always scary," Xander muttered under his breath.
The suited guide had already begun walking, so Xander followed.
They passed back through the quiet VIP corridor, past sealed rooms and dark glass windows where silhouettes watched the fights like gods too bored to descend. Xander could still feel the ghost of Orion Cross's aura on his skin, that old pressure that had not even been aimed at him yet still made his bones aware of their own fragility.
The elevator opened.
The ride down felt faster than the ride up.
By the time the doors slid apart on the common level, the world returned all at once.
Noise crashed over him.
The crowd shouted. Screens flashed. A fighter on Ring Six hit the canvas hard enough for the impact to echo through the floor. Somewhere nearby, someone cursed over a lost bet while another person screamed a winner's name like their lungs were being sponsored.
Xander stepped out of the VIP passage and spotted Jerry and TJ waiting near the lower rail.
Both of them looked like they had been trying not to look worried and failing in completely different ways. Jerry leaned against the railing with forced casualness, arms crossed, one foot tapping. TJ stood beside him with his hands on his hips, scanning the crowd as if expecting trouble to arrive wearing sunglasses.
Xander gave them a small nod.
Jerry's shoulders loosened first.
TJ let out a breath. "There he is."
They approached him quickly.
"So, kid?" TJ asked, voice low enough not to carry too far. "Everything go alright up there, or do we need to start pretending we don't know you?"
Jerry shot him a look. "That's your first question?"
"What? It covers several outcomes."
Jerry turned back to Xander. His voice stayed casual, but his eyes were sharp. "Seriously, though. They rough you up? Threaten you? Offer you wine that costs more than my truck?"
"Maybe better than alright," Xander said.
Both men paused.
Xander looked toward the big screens, where the bracket display was beginning to update for the next round.
"I might be able to join the Silver Sphinx."
Jerry blinked.
TJ's mouth opened slightly, then closed.
For once, neither of them immediately made a joke.
"That's…" Jerry rubbed the back of his neck. "That's big."
"Yeah," TJ said. "That's not regular big. That's 'people suddenly remember your name correctly' big."
Xander gave a faint smile. "Only problem is…"
He pointed at the screen.
The bracket expanded.
⠀
[NEXT ROUND]
Scarlet Phantom
VS
Parsilla "Berserker Queen" Veyra
⠀
Jerry stared at it.
His face slowly sank into resignation.
TJ put one hand over his eyes and dragged it down his face.
"Oh, man," TJ muttered. "They gave you Mosshead."
Jerry looked at Xander like a doctor delivering news with no polite phrasing left. "Kid… I like you. I really do. But that girl fights like her opponent insulted her mother."
"Thanks," Xander said dryly. "That's comforting."
TJ lowered his hand and jabbed a finger toward the screen. "Look, I'm not saying you can't win."
Jerry looked at him.
TJ hesitated. "I'm saying… the path to winning might involve some illegal amount of suffering."
"That's still not helping."
"It's honest."
Before Xander could respond, Seo Yura's voice rose above the noise, ripping everyone's attention toward Ring One.
"Ladies and gentlemen, don't blink! The final match of this round is turning into a meat grinder with manners! Gorefang has Kari pressed harder than a debt collector at Christmas, but the Turtle Bear is still standing!"
The main screen shifted.
⠀
Kari's fight was nearing its end.
Ring One looked battered. One corner post was bent slightly from an earlier impact, and the canvas was marked by smears of sweat and blood. Across from Kari stood Gorefang, the compact bruiser whose fists had already battered two opponents into submission tonight.
Gorefang was shorter than Kari, but built with cruel density. Thick neck. Heavy shoulders. Arms like blunt instruments wrapped in skin. Blood streamed from a cut over one eyebrow, and his grin was stained red.
Kari, for once, did not look untouched.
A bruise darkened one side of his ribs. His lower lip had split. His breathing was deeper than before, though still controlled. He stood in his usual guard, calm and grounded, but there was more weight in his stance now. Gorefang had made him work.
Xander leaned against the rail, attention narrowing.
"Gorefang's giving him trouble," he said.
Jerry nodded. "That guy doesn't know how to stop coming forward. You hit him, he gets offended. You block him, he gets offended. You breathe near him, probably still offended."
TJ folded his arms. "Kari's got it, though. Watch his feet."
In the ring, Gorefang charged.
He came in low, shoulder first, trying to crash through Kari's center and drag him into ugly close-range boxing. Kari shifted, but Gorefang adjusted mid-entry and slammed a hook into Kari's side.
The impact made the crowd bark.
Kari grunted.
Gorefang followed with a second hook, then a short uppercut. Kari blocked the uppercut with his forearm, but the force still pushed him back half a step.
Seo's voice sharpened.
"Gorefang is doing what Gorefang does best! No poetry, no elegance, just old-fashioned internal damage! He's forcing Kari to fight in a phone booth, and that is not where you want a butcher with knuckles!"
Gorefang pressed again.
Kari gave ground.
Once.
Twice.
The crowd rose with it, sensing the possibility of an upset.
Gorefang swung wide at Kari's head.
Kari ducked.
Gorefang's other hand was already waiting.
A brutal body shot drove into Kari's ribs.
For the first time, Kari's expression tightened.
Xander's eyes narrowed.
"He planned that."
"Yup," Jerry said. "Gorefang ain't pretty, but he's not dumb."
Gorefang grinned, teeth red. "Feel that, Turtle?"
Kari inhaled slowly.
Then he stepped in.
Not away.
Into him.
Gorefang tried to throw another body hook, but Kari's elbow dropped and pinned the arm before it could gather full force. At the same time, Kari's forehead pressed briefly against Gorefang's temple, smothering the smaller man's angle.
Then Kari shifted his hips.
A small movement.
Almost nothing.
Gorefang's feet left the canvas.
The throw was compact, brutal, and sudden. One moment Gorefang was driving forward. The next, his own pressure rolled over Kari's hip and slammed him flat onto his back.
The ring shook.
Seo screamed.
"Oh! There it is! Gorefang brought the storm, and Kari turned the doorway sideways!"
Kari did not let him breathe.
He dropped one knee beside Gorefang, trapped the bruiser's right arm under his shin, and hammered a palm strike into his chest.
Once.
Gorefang coughed.
Twice.
The crowd winced.
Gorefang tried to bridge upward, muscles bulging, but Kari shifted his weight with cruel patience and smothered the motion before it became useful.
Then Kari raised his fist.
Gorefang's eyes widened.
The punch came down into his solar plexus.
The air left Gorefang in a strangled gasp.
His body folded around the impact.
The referee stepped closer.
Gorefang tried to move.
Kari placed one hand on his shoulder, not theatrical. Just enough to tell him the fight had become a decision he no longer controlled.
Gorefang slapped the canvas once.
The bell rang.
Seo Yura erupted.
"Gorefang taps! The butcher meets the bear trap! Abouda Kari advances again, and for the first time tonight, he had to actually dust off the furniture!"
The crowd roared.
Kari stood and offered Gorefang a hand.
Gorefang stared at it for a second, then took it with a grimace. Kari pulled him upright. The gesture was clean. Respectful. Somehow more intimidating than gloating would have been.
Xander watched quietly.
"That man is terrifying," he said.
Jerry nodded. "I keep telling you. Kari fights like he already read the ending."
TJ leaned closer to Xander. "You should ask him to teach you that throw."
"I should ask him to teach me how to not get folded by Parsilla first."
Jerry's resignation softened into something more serious. "Look, kid. She's bad news. But Vance was bad news too. And you made him look like he got jumped by his own shadow."
TJ nodded, pointing at Xander with both fingers. "Exactly. You're weird. That's your advantage."
Xander stared at him.
TJ shrugged. "What? It's a compliment where I'm from."
Xander took a deep breath, then looked back at the bracket.
"I can't afford to lose." His mouth curled into a small, sarcastic laugh. "Maybe I'll pull off another miracle."
Jerry gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. "Make it an ugly miracle. Those are harder to doubt."
"Yeah," TJ added. "And if she starts smiling too much, run sideways. People who enjoy getting hit are not emotionally available."
Xander shook his head, but the smile lingered.
He turned and made his way back toward the contestants' area.
⠀
The difference hit him immediately.
Before, the hall had been crowded with fighters stretching, pacing, trash-talking, bleeding, praying, or pretending not to. Now it was half-empty. No, less than that. Only a quarter of the original competitors remained.
The energy had changed.
The early chaos was gone. The lucky had already been filtered out. The loudest frauds had been silenced. What remained were the dangerous, the stubborn, the talented, and the kind of people too broken to know when to quit.
Xander belonged to at least two of those categories.
Maybe three.
He walked to the refreshment table and grabbed a protein shake from the cooler.
Strawberry this time.
He stared at the bottle.
"Fancy."
He cracked it open and took a long drink. The sweetness was colder than expected, sharp against the back of his throat. His stomach accepted it immediately, already reaching for the calories like a starving engine.
As he lowered the shake, he looked across the room.
Parsilla was doing push-ups.
On two fingers.
Not struggling or training with visible intensity. Just casually lowering and lifting her body while her dark green hair spilled around her face in loose waves. Her toned arms flexed with clean power. Every rep looked controlled, smooth, effortless. A few nearby fighters pretended not to watch her. None of them got too close.
Xander stared for a moment.
Wonder if I could do that…
Parsilla rose from one push-up and held herself at the top using only two fingers on each hand.
Then she turned her head slightly.
Her eyes met his from across the room.
She smiled.
Not friendly.
Not cruel either.
Excited.
Xander lifted his shake a little in awkward acknowledgment.
Parsilla's smile widened, then she went back down into another push-up.
Xander drank again.
From what I've seen, all her physical stats must be high. Strength, Constitution, Dexterity. She may even beat me in base Dexterity.
That was the problem.
Vance had been dangerous because his range kept lying. Parsilla looked dangerous because nothing about her seemed dishonest. She was strong. Fast. Tough. Violent. Simple in the way a landslide was simple.
The screen above the contestants' area changed.
A timer appeared beneath his matchup.
5:00
Xander looked at it for a long moment.
But fear did not rise the way it should have.
Oddly enough, I'm not that nervous.
He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.
Maybe it's all the mental protection passives I've gained… or maybe it's something else.
His fingers curled into a fist.
The arena noise remained around him, but he let it pass over his mind without catching. Cheers. Announcements. Footsteps. The hum of screens. It all became a distant texture.
"Kari does this before his fights," Xander murmured. "Wonder if he's shadow boxing in his head or meditating."
A familiar voice answered from nearby.
"It is neither."
Xander opened his eyes.
Abouda Kari stood a few steps away, one side of his face still marked from Gorefang's punches. His expression was calm, as always, but there was a faint tiredness in his posture now. Not weakness. Evidence.
He had fought. He had won. It had cost him something.
Kari continued, voice even.
"I am emptying my mind. The less noise you carry into a fight, the better. Always steady yourself before the bell, even against a weaker foe." His gaze moved briefly toward Parsilla. "Especially against one like her."
Xander turned fully toward him.
"How much stronger do you think she is?"
Kari looked across the room at Parsilla.
She was still doing push-ups.
Still smiling faintly to herself.
"Much stronger than Vance," Kari said.
"Yeah. I was afraid you'd say something like that."
"She is not merely strong. She enjoys forcing exchanges. Some fighters become reckless when they love damage. She does not. That makes her dangerous."
Xander absorbed that.
"So what do I do?"
Kari's eyes returned to him.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he smiled slightly.
"I have never seen anyone grow in battle the way you do."
Xander blinked.
Kari's voice stayed calm, but the words carried weight.
"Draw this one out if you can. Survive long enough to understand her. Wait for the right moment. The rest…" He glanced toward the arena lights. "The rest is up to fate."
Xander gave him a wry smile.
"Fate, huh? Maybe I'm a lucky son of a gun after all."
The timer dropped to 1:00.
The speakers above the contestants' area crackled softly as staff began preparing the next match announcement.
Kari stepped closer and placed one large hand on Xander's back.
The pat was rare. Firm. Almost gentle.
"Good luck, Xander," he said. "I will be watching."
Xander looked toward Ring Three, where the lights were already beginning to brighten.
Then he looked at Parsilla.
She had risen to her feet.
Her dark green hair fell over one shoulder, and her eyes were fixed on him with the bright focus of someone who had just been promised something fun.
Xander rolled his shoulders once.
The last minute began to bleed away.
⠀
The timer above Ring Three bled down into its final thirty seconds.
Xander stood near the entrance lane, rolling his neck once as the arena lights shifted toward him and Parsilla. His heart had not started racing yet. That almost bothered him. A fight like this deserved fear, at least a little. Instead, his body felt awake in a deeper way, like every nerve had turned its face toward the ring.
He reached up and plucked the red contacts from his eyes.
The world sharpened immediately.
Colors became cleaner. Edges grew crisp. The motion of the crowd, the flicker of the screens, the sweat rolling down a fighter's neck across the arena, all of it clicked into place. His natural eyes breathed again beneath the lights, no longer blurred behind the cheap disguise.
No point hiding my eyes now, he thought. Everybody already knows I'm weird.
Across the contestants' lane, Parsilla stepped forward first.
She moved with loose shoulders and an easy smile, dark green hair spilling down her back in wild waves. There was no robe. No dramatic entrance gear. No extra flexing for the crowd. She wore the same simple fight attire as before, but somehow walked like the arena had been built so she could break people inside it.
Seo Yura's voice poured through the speakers with hungry delight.
"Ladies and gentlemen, open your eyes and guard your ribs! Entering Ring Three first, the woman who turns every fight into a public safety hazard! The green-haired nightmare! The crowd's favorite disaster! Parsilla Veyra, the Berserker Queen!"
The arena detonated.
The chant started from one side, then rolled through the stands like thunder over metal.
"MOSSHEAD! MOSSHEAD! MOSSHEAD!"
Parsilla lifted both arms, grinning as if the noise was something she could drink.
"MOSSHEAD! MOSSHEAD! MOSSHEAD!"
The chant grew louder.
Even some of the VIP balconies seemed to stir. The giant screens caught Parsilla's smile, bright and savage, and the crowd only screamed harder.
Xander stared at the ring, then let out a slow breath.
Great… she's a fan favorite.
He shook his head and started walking.
The cheers turned messy the moment he stepped into view. Some of the crowd booed. Some cheered. Others shouted warnings, insults, and predictions with all the wisdom of drunk gamblers who had lost twice and blamed the moon.
"Phantom's getting folded!"
"Run while you can!"
"Mosshead's gonna snap him!"
"Bleed again, freak!"
Seo's voice sharpened into a teasing singsong.
"And entering next, our fresh little controversy! The man who turned mockery into momentum, speed into spectacle, and poor Golden Reaper Vance into a cautionary tale! Give it up, or don't, for the blood-soaked blur himself, the one, the only… Scaarlett Phanntooommm!"
Xander stopped just before the ring steps.
He looked up at the roaring crowd.
Then smiled.
With calm, deliberate elegance, he raised both middle fingers.
The reaction was immediate.
Boos exploded from the stands. Laughter mixed with them. A few people cheered even louder.
Jerry slapped the rail from below, howling. "That's my guy! Terrible judgment, beautiful execution!"
TJ threw both hands up. "Kid's got no survival instinct left. None. Somebody check his pockets, he dropped it!"
Seo gasped into the mic with exaggerated offense.
"Oh, how charming! The Phantom sends his love to the crowd with both hands. A true gentleman. A poet. A future public relations tragedy."
Xander turned slightly and added one more middle finger toward Seo's commentary booth.
The camera caught it.
The arena lost its mind again.
Seo went quiet for half a second.
Then her voice returned, sweeter and far more dangerous.
"Careful, Scarlet. I have a microphone, a memory, and absolutely no mercy."
Xander stepped into the ring with a grin.
Parsilla watched him from across the canvas, visibly amused.
"Brave," she said.
Her voice was lower than he expected. Not rough, exactly. Warm in a strange way, but edged with excitement. She sounded like someone complimenting a meal before biting into it.
Xander bounced once on the balls of his feet and pumped his fists lightly.
"Yeah. I get that confused with stupid sometimes."
Parsilla laughed.
Then she threw a quick combo into the empty air.
Left straight. Right hook. Elbow. Knee. Spinning backfist.
The movements cracked out so fast the camera barely caught each strike separately. Her body moved with horrifying balance, no wasted motion, no delay between attacks. The air snapped around her limbs.
Xander's smile stiffened.
She definitely has speed.
Across the room, Kari stood near the contestant side, arms folded, gaze steady. Above them, behind the tinted VIP glass, Orion Cross watched without moving, a cigar burning quietly between his fingers. The blue-haired man stood behind him, eyes narrowed at Xander like he was waiting for reality to correct an insult.
Seo's voice lowered, letting the crowd simmer.
"Ring Three is locked. Scarlet Phantom versus the Berserker Queen. One fighter built from blood and surprises, the other from violence and bad intentions. If you're holding food, swallow now. If you're holding a bet slip, pray responsibly."
The referee stepped between them.
Parsilla's smile widened.
Xander rolled his shoulders one more time.
The referee looked from one to the other.
"Fight clean enough that I don't have to lie on the paperwork," he said. "Touch gloves if you want."
Neither did.
The referee backed away.
The bell rang.
For one heartbeat, neither moved.
Then Xander smiled.
I need to make an impression, he thought. If I let her set the pace, I'm going to spend this whole fight getting suppressed.
His pupils shifted.
Feral lines cut through his eyes.
⠀
[SYSTEM PROMPT]
[Clarity of Vision] activated.
[SYSTEM PROMPT]
[Feline's Nimbleness] activated.
[SYSTEM PROMPT]
Synergy condition met.
[SYSTEM PROMPT]
[Predator's Instinct] activated.
Mana drained in a sharp pulse.
The grid snapped over the world.
Lines. Angles. Weak points. Footing. Tension. Breath.
His Dexterity surged.
Twenty-seven became thirty-nine under the layered buffs, and the shift hit like lightning through his veins. His limbs turned light. His breathing became smooth. Near-range movement slowed at the edges of his sight, every twitch of Parsilla's shoulders and hips breaking into readable pieces.
Without the contacts, his eyes looked inhuman beneath the lights. Green tactical glow fractured through something wild, something hungry, something that did not belong to a normal E-ranker.
Then blue flame erupted around his feet.
Not the neat aura from before.
This was violent. It clawed up from the canvas as if the ring itself had sparked beneath him, wrapping around his ankles and licking up his calves. The fire was not hot, at least not to him, but it moved like it had answered a call he hadn't meant to make.
The crowd's roar stumbled.
Even Parsilla's expression changed.
Just slightly.
Seo caught it.
"Oh, now that's new! Scarlet Phantom's eyes are different and his aura is flaring, and I don't know what that blue flame is, but I know I want a front-row apology if it burns through the ring!"
Xander vanished forward.
Not truly vanished.
But the cameras chasing him lagged a fraction too late. His body shot across the canvas in a streak of red hair, blue flame, and black fight gear, speed ripping the distance apart before the crowd could process the first step.
Parsilla's eyes widened.
Only for a blink.
Xander reached her.
He feinted high.
Parsilla's guard twitched upward.
He dropped low, cutting inside her lead arm, and snapped two quick blows into her ribs. Not heavy. Not committed. Pure speed. Pure contact. One-two. Enough to mark the opening and test her reaction.
The impacts cracked against her side.
Parsilla's grin sharpened.
She countered instantly.
Her leg whipped up in a manic kick aimed at the side of Xander's head, fast enough to split the space where his skull had been.
Xander ducked under it.
Barely.
The wind from the kick tore across his hair.
⠀
[SYSTEM PROMPT]
[Combat Instinct] activated.
After dodging or taking a hit, your next attack within 5 seconds deals +15% damage.
Landing 2 consecutive hits grants +2 temporary Strength for 10 seconds.
The system had not even finished chiming in his mind before Xander was already moving toward the third point glowing on the grid.
There.
His foot planted.
His hips turned.
Every line in his body snapped into the kick.
A full-body roundhouse slammed into Parsilla's waist.
The impact boomed across Ring Three.
Parsilla's feet left the canvas.
For a fraction of a second, her smile was still there as her body flew sideways.
Then she hit the floor and scraped across the ring, one hand dragging against the canvas, boots carving twin lines as she slid nearly to the ropes.
The arena froze.
Just one perfect, impossible breath.
Then the crowd went insane.
"WHAT?!"
"NO WAY!"
"HE MOVED FASTER!"
"MOSSHEAD GOT HIT!"
Jerry grabbed TJ by the shoulders again. "Did you see that?! Tell me you saw that!"
TJ's eyes were huge. "I saw it! I saw it! He kicked the forest goblin sideways."
Seo Yura's scream tore through the speakers.
"SCARLET PHANTOM OPENS FIRST! He blitzes the Berserker Queen, slips the counter, and sends her sliding! Ladies and gentlemen, the underdog just walked into the lion's den and slapped the lion with a chair!"
Even Kari's eyebrows lifted slightly.
Behind the VIP glass, Orion Cross leaned forward for the first time.
Xander landed from the kick and slid back half a step, blue flame curling around his feet.
His heart hammered once.
Then twice.
The crowd was still losing its mind, but his focus stayed locked on Parsilla.
She was already pushing herself up.
Slowly.
One hand on the canvas. Then one knee. Then both feet beneath her.
Her hair fell across her face.
For a second, Xander couldn't see her expression.
Then Parsilla lifted her head.
She was smiling.
Not annoyed.
Not hurt enough.
Excited.
Really excited.
A bead of sweat slid down Xander's chin.
His grin faded by a hair.
Shit…
Parsilla rolled her neck, still smiling at him like he had just made her night worth remembering.
And as the roar of the crowd climbed higher, the Berserker Queen took one step forward.