As soon as Youri finished shaking Toney's hand, Toney headed straight for the octagon to announce the match. Back in the locker room, the noise of the crowd seeped through the concrete walls, a low, constant roar that made the air vibrate.
Youri stood in front of an open locker, tightening the wraps around his hands.
Behind him, Leo hesitated before speaking."It's not too late to bail out," he said quietly. "You don't know Boris. He doesn't just look like a monster—he is one. He'll slaughter you out there."
Youri finished tying the last wrap, closed the locker door, and turned to face him.
"You said it yourself," Youri replied calmly. "Experience is key."
Without waiting for an answer, he walked toward the exit. Just before stepping through the door, he stopped and glanced back over his shoulder.
"Oh—and this isn't the first monster I've faced."
Then he was gone.
Youri stepped out into the underground hall, the noise hitting him all at once. The crowd parted as he walked toward the octagon, their shouts rising higher with every step. From inside the cage, Toney's voice boomed through the microphone.
"Here he is! The brave newbie who dares to face Boris the Monster!"
The crowd erupted.
Youri entered the octagon, the chain-link door slamming shut behind him. The spotlight above was blinding, pouring down on him like judgment. He lowered his head, breathing slow, steady.
Toney raised his voice again.
"And now, gentlemen… please welcome—Boris the Monster!"
The arena exploded into chaos as Boris emerged.
He was massive—broad shoulders, thick arms, his body built like a living weapon. A jagged scar ran from his chin all the way up to his forehead, carving his face into something feral. Bald, black-eyed, and nearly naked save for black shorts and worn shoes, he moved with terrifying calm.
As Boris stepped into the ring, he glanced at Youri only once—just long enough to measure him—before turning and taking his corner.
Toney looked between them and grinned."Alright, boys. Make it fun."
Then, lowering the mic, he leaned toward Youri and muttered, "Try to last at least one round."
Toney straightened and lifted the microphone once more.
"Are you ready for the fight?!"
"Yes!" the crowd thundered back.
"Then let's get this fight started!"
The bell rang.
Boris moved first.
He didn't rush—he stalked. Each step shook the floor of the octagon as he closed the distance, shoulders rolling, fists loose at his sides. Youri raised his guard just as Leo had taught him, feet shifting, breath steady.
The first punch came like a truck.
Boris's right hook slammed into Youri's ribs, the impact echoing through the cage. Pain exploded through his side, sharp and blinding, and Youri was lifted off his feet before crashing into the fence. The crowd roared.
"Stay down!" someone screamed.
Youri slid to one knee, coughing, but forced himself back up. His vision swam, yet his feet stayed planted.
Boris frowned.
He stepped in again, hammering Youri with body shots—left, right, elbow—each blow cracking into muscle and bone. Youri tried to block, tried to counter, landing a short punch to Boris's jaw.
It barely fazed him.
Boris grinned, bloodless lips curling upward, and drove a knee into Youri's stomach. Air left Youri's lungs in a strangled gasp as he dropped forward, hands touching the mat.
"End it!" the crowd chanted.
Boris grabbed Youri by the hair and hauled him upright.
Youri's head rang, his body screaming at him to quit—but he didn't. He threw another punch. Then another. Sloppy. Weak. But real.
The crowd's noise shifted.
Some laughter faded. Some shouting stopped.
Boris's grin vanished.
Snarling, Boris slammed Youri into the cage again and again, metal rattling violently. Blood ran down Youri's face, dripping onto the mat. Still, he stayed standing.
"Why won't you fall?" Boris growled.
Youri spat blood at his feet.
Boris roared and delivered an uppercut that snapped Youri's head back, followed by a brutal hook that finally sent him crashing to the ground.
Youri tried to rise.
His arms trembled. His legs refused.
Boris stepped forward, lifted his foot, and stomped down on Youri's chest.
The bell rang—long and loud.
Toney jumped to his feet, shouting into the microphone."That's it! That's it! We're done!"
The crowd erupted, half cheering, half stunned.
Boris raised his arms in victory, but the applause wasn't as loud as it should've been.
Youri lay on the mat, barely conscious, chest heaving. His body was wrecked—bruised, bloodied, broken—but his eyes were still open.
Still aware.
Still alive.
Leo pushed past the guards and dropped to his knees beside him.
"You're insane," Leo muttered, lifting Youri's head gently. "You know that?"
Youri let out a weak breath that might've been a laugh.
"Told you…" he rasped. "I'm… used to monsters."
Leo carried Youri into the locker room and gently lowered him onto one of the benches. The adrenaline had faded, leaving only pain behind. Youri was cut and bruised from head to toe, blood drying in thin streaks across his face and chest. Every breath came shallow and uneven.
A woman approached and sat beside him. She wore a white coat and carried a small medical case. She was a brunette with sharp green eyes, her hair cut short to her neck, glasses resting neatly on her face. Calm and composed, she opened her case and reached toward Youri's forehead to wipe away the blood.
Youri recoiled instantly, jerking backward with a sharp inhale, eyes locking onto her in alarm.
Leo raised his hands quickly. "Hey—hey, chill, dude," he said. "She's just a doctor."
He turned to her apologetically. "Sorry, Mia. He's probably still in shock from the fight."
Mia studied Youri for a moment, her expression softening. "That's fine," she said evenly. "I'll just patch you up. But you'll need a real hospital after this. Your ribs are definitely broken."
She worked carefully, methodically cleaning his wounds and bandaging him. Youri stayed tense the entire time, flinching at every touch, jaw clenched—but he didn't pull away again.
The locker room door swung open.
Toney strode in, his voice echoing off the walls. "Hey, kid!" he shouted. "You've got guts!"
He laughed loudly, clapping his hands together. "You left the crowd speechless. Staying conscious against Boris? That doesn't happen."
Toney pulled a thick stack of bills from his pocket and tossed it onto Youri's lap."Three thousand zells. You earned it."
Youri stared at the money, blinking through the pain.
"Come back when you're fixed up," Toney continued. "You're turning into a crowd favorite."
Leo gave Youri a firm pat on the shoulder, grinning despite the bruises. "Told you it pays well."
Youri exhaled slowly, eyes still on the bills. "Yeah," he murmured. "It really does."
Mia closed her case and stood. Before leaving, she paused and looked back at both of them. She let out a slow breath.
"If dragging yourself to the brink of death—or worse, killing yourself—is worth three thousand zells," she said quietly, "then sure. Keep coming back."
Her gaze settled on Youri.
"But if you value your life even a little… stay away from places like this."
With that, she turned and walked out, leaving the locker room heavy with silence.
Youri sat there, broken and bleeding, the weight of the money in his hands feeling heavier than it should have.