The final round.
No cheers now — just silence so heavy it pressed on every chest in the arena.
Two fighters stood in the center of the battlefield.
Vaelric Thorne. Blood-smeared, golden-eyed, untouchable in theory — yet visibly strained.Kairon Vex. Face battered, body bruised, but his posture — defiant. Alive.
The last round began.
The Awakening
Something cracked inside Kairon.
Not bone — something deeper.
He couldn't explain it, but his muscles began to move ahead of his mind.
He could see Vaelric's shoulders shift — and he knew where the punch would go.
He began to react faster, tighter, each dodge cleaner than the last.
Not instinct. Not training.Something buried. Something… programmed?
Flickers of movement flashed in his head — techniques he'd never learned. Reversals, pressure shifts, traps.
Memories?No. Imprints.
The Final Round – Legendary
What followed would be studied for decades.
Blow for blow.Elbow to neck. Shin to forearm. Palm strike redirected.Feints, slips, pivots, grapples.Vaelric's form was flawless. Kairon's flow was unpredictable.
Both bled.
Both bent.
Neither broke.
But the Gap Remained
Kairon was awakening — but not there yet.
Vaelric was mastery refined. Hardened. Versed in tempo, in pressure, in psychological dominance.
For every burst of brilliance Kairon showed, Vaelric answered with control.
And with one brutal combo — a spinning side kick to the liver followed by a step-through hook to the jaw — Kairon dropped again.
The crowd held their breath.
He stood. Barely.
But when the next strike came, he didn't defend.
The Match Was Stopped
The arena official called it.
"Decision win: Vaelric Thorne."Victory by technical stoppage.
The stadium exploded in sound — mixed cheers, gasps, some even boos.
But all eyes were on the fighters.
The Fallout
Kairon knelt on one knee, coughing blood, eyes half-closed — but smiling.
A quiet, broken, bloody grin.
I made him bleed.I made the heir fall.He had to go feral to beat me.
He didn't need to win.
He had already proven himself.
Vaelric Stood Silent
Hands raised. Crowned. Yet… hollow.
He didn't feel victorious.
He felt exposed.
He had unleashed everything — even the part of himself he was taught to hide — and still barely won.
Then he looked up.
The Stands
Damien Thorne. Still watching.
No expression.
No nod.No clap.No approval.
Just a quiet glance.
Then he turned.
And walked away.
Something Inside Vaelric Snapped
No nod? After all that?No recognition?
He stared down at the kneeling Kairon, bloodied, still breathing.
Still… defiant.
You should've stayed down.
The Sucker Punch
Without warning — a violent, unforgivable, coward's blow.
Vaelric's fist cracked across Kairon's jaw as he knelt.
The crowd screamed.
Officials moved.
Kairon's body slammed into the floor, unmoving.
Blood pooled.
Chaos Erupted
Alarms flared.
Instructors sprinted. Medical drones dropped.
Sera Thorne was already moving from the stands.
But before anyone could reach him—
Kairon stirred.
One hand gripped the arena floor.
He pushed himself up, neck twisted, jaw broken — but his eyes… were open.
And in them wasn't pain.
It was clarity.
So that's who you are, Kairon thought.Not a king. Just a boy desperate for a throne.
Vaelric won the match.
But Kairon won the crowd.
And the war for legacy had only just begun.