The Path Of A True King.

The underground fighting ring was buzzing with excitement.

The scent of sweat, blood, and smoke filled the air as dozens of high school students and small-time gang recruiters gathered around the center stage.

Bets were being placed left and right, the numbers climbing higher with each passing minute.

The announcer, a thin man with a raspy voice, stood in the middle of the ring, hyping up the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen! We have a special event tonight! A one-versus-four match, something you don't see often! The reward? Six. Thousand. Dollars!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the concrete walls.

"Whoever manages to defeat our bold challenger will walk away rich! And guess what? We already have fighters lining up!"

A screen above the ring flickered, displaying four names:

Ray "The Phantom" Carter

Tyler "Steel Fist" Owen

Jason "The Executioner" Reed

Marcus "The Thunder" Hill

The moment Ray's name appeared, the crowd erupted.

He was well-known among high school fighters, a skilled boxer with fast hands and sharp footwork.

The others weren't weak either—each had made a name for themselves in school fights and underground matches.

Kai smirked, nudging Elijah. "Looks like you're already making waves. Ray is a solid fighter. This might be interesting."

Elijah cracked his knuckles. "I'll start slow, see what he's got."

The announcer raised his hands. "Our challenger, Elijah Cross, is going in blind against four of the best! Will he survive? Or will he crumble under the pressure?! Let's find out!"

The bell rang, and the first fight began.

Ray stepped forward, rolling his shoulders as he locked eyes with Elijah.

His gaze was sharp, predatory analyzing every inch of Elijah's stance.

The crowd was already chanting his name, confident in his victory.

Elijah exhaled slowly, steadying himself.

He knew Ray wouldn't go all out immediately—he would test the waters, probe for weaknesses.

Elijah had to be patient, had to observe.

Ray wasted no time.

The moment the match began, he lunged forward, his fists snapping out with rapid jabs.

Elijah's body moved on instinct.

He weaved through the incoming strikes, his eyes tracking the movements carefully.

Ray's footwork was sharp, efficient, and his hands moved with the speed of a trained fighter.

Each jab was precise, meant to wear Elijah down rather than end the fight in a single blow.

A few punches grazed Elijah's cheek, one barely missing his chin.

A lesser fighter might have been rattled, but Elijah didn't flinch. Instead, he smirked, rolling his neck as if to say, That all you got?

Ray's expression darkened. He feinted a step to the right before launching a sudden, powerful right hook.

Elijah ducked at the last possible second.

The wind from the punch rushed past his ear as he pivoted on his back foot, countering with a lightning-fast jab to Ray's ribs.

The impact landed clean, forcing a grunt from Ray.

But he recovered instantly, stepping back to reassess.

The crowd roared as Ray surged forward again, this time with more aggression.

His fists became a blur—targeting Elijah's head, ribs, and torso with a relentless combination.

Elijah raised his guard, blocking where he could and slipping past the more dangerous blows.

Some shots landed, sending sharp jolts of pain through his body, but he absorbed them, reading Ray's rhythm with each exchange.

Then he saw it.

Ray threw a left feint, a deliberate bait, expecting Elijah to dodge right. Instead of taking the obvious escape route, Elijah did the unexpected.

He stepped forward, parrying Ray's incoming right cross with his left forearm.

Ray's balance shifted slightly—the perfect opening.

Elijah struck.

His knee rocketed up, burying itself deep into Ray's stomach.

Ray's eyes widened, a choked gasp escaping his lips as the air was forced from his lungs.

His body folded over, his footing suddenly unsteady.

But Elijah wasn't done.

He grabbed Ray's collar, locking him in place.

With no time to react, Ray could only watch as Elijah's forehead came crashing down.

A sickening crack echoed through the air as Elijah's skull smashed into Ray's nose.

Blood spattered the mat.

Ray staggered backward, his vision swimming, his breaths ragged and uneven.

His stance, once firm and controlled, wavered as he tried to steady himself.

Elijah wiped a smear of blood—Ray's blood—from his forehead and met his dazed opponent's gaze.

His red eyes gleamed under the arena lights.

"Not so confident now, are you?" he muttered, stepping forward again.

The fight wasn't over yet.

The crowd gasped at the brutality of the strike, and even the announcer hesitated before calling out,

"Elijah is relentless! Will Ray recover?!"

Ray wiped the blood from his nose, his eyes burning with fury.

With a desperate growl, he charged in, throwing a wild haymaker.

Elijah sidestepped smoothly and delivered a thunderous uppercut to Ray's chin.

The impact lifted Ray off his feet, and he crashed onto the mat, unconscious.

The crowd went silent for a moment before erupting in cheers and shouts of disbelief.

The announcer rushed to the center. "Unbelievable! Elijah wins the first match in dominant fashion!"

Kai smirked, "That's one down."

Without another glance, he stepped through the shifting crowd, weaving past groups of excited spectators.

His destination was clear—a section where the atmosphere felt heavier, where the students instinctively kept their distance.

At the center of that space stood a towering figure.

Jack Black.

A mountain of a student, his muscular frame made even larger by the way he stood—arms crossed, shoulders squared.

His blonde hair was slightly disheveled, but his red eyes were sharp, watching the match with an expression bordering on disinterest.

Despite the cheers and shouts around him, Jack remained still, as if the fights were nothing more than background noise.

Kai approached without hesitation.

"Jack."

Jack's gaze shifted lazily to Kai, his expression unreadable. "What do you want?"

Kai crossed his arms, his smirk never fading. "It's been a while. How have you been?"

Jack stared at him for a moment before a school member standing nearby quietly moved aside, allowing Kai to sit.

"Why are you here, Kai?" Jack asked, his deep voice carrying a hint of curiosity but mostly impatience.

Kai leaned back, getting comfortable. "Nothing much," he said casually. "It's just that my leader down there finds you interesting."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Your leader?"

His gaze shifted toward the ring, where Elijah stood, rolling his shoulders, stretching in preparation for his next match.

Jack studied him for a moment before scoffing.

"He's strong, but he's not stronger than you."

Kai chuckled, shaking his head. "Just wait and see."

Jack remained silent, his expression unreadable as Kai leaned forward slightly. "How about we make a bet? I say he wins all his matches."

Jack shook his head, his lips curling slightly in amusement. "That's absurd."

His eyes flickered toward Elijah again. "Besides, he already knows about breathing techniques."

Kai's grin widened. "Yeah, but he's doing it naturally. He never actually learned it."

Jack's expression finally shifted—just slightly.

"He figured it out on his own?"

Kai nodded. "Pretty much."

Jack exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his head. "That's impressive, but I don't care. I have no interest in fighting him."

Kai raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Why not?"

Jack's red eyes locked onto Kai's. "Because he's not the one I want to fight."

Kai sighed, already knowing where this was going.

"You still want to fight me?"

Jack's lips curled into the slightest smirk. "Always."

Kai shook his head, leaning back again. "Not interested. Just watch the matches. If Elijah impresses you, maybe you'll change your mind."

Jack said nothing, but his gaze lingered on the ring.

Down below, Elijah exhaled, his muscles loosening as he cracked his neck.

"Alright," he said, scanning the crowd. "Who's next?"

The atmosphere tensed as his second opponent stepped forward.