The rain hit the pavement like a drumbeat of war.
Arthur stood at the edge of the alley, fists clenched, hoodie soaked. His breath came slow and controlled—like his father had taught him. Balance in body. Focus in mind. Stillness before the storm.
But there was no stillness in his heart anymore. Only fire.
His father, Master Ryker, had been the pillar of the local martial arts school—a man of peace, discipline, and strength. He had trained Arthur since he could walk, teaching him the way of the open palm and the clenched fist. The art was more than combat. It was a code. A life. A bond between father and son.
Until the night he was murdered.
Arthur remembered the sound of glass shattering, the scream, the blood. The police called it a break-in. The media forgot it in days. But Arthur didn't. He remembered the symbol painted in red on the dojo's wall: a serpent wrapped around a broken crown.
He knew what it meant. The Serpent Circle.
A syndicate of underground fighters, mercenaries, and criminal masterminds. His father once told him they tried to recruit him. He refused. And now… he was dead.
Arthur vanished after the funeral. For weeks, months, he trained alone. His grief was raw, but he didn't mourn. He sharpened. He hunted. He bled for a purpose.
His first fight was in a backroom cage—no rules, no mercy. They laughed at the kid with the calm eyes. Then he broke the champion's nose in two strikes. That was the beginning.
Word spread. A new fighter was rising—silent, fast, brutal. They called him "Ghost Fist." One by one, he tore through the underground fight scene, each victory drawing him closer to the truth. Every opponent was a rung up the ladder toward the Serpent Circle.
But the closer he got, the more dangerous it became.
Juno, a skilled fighter and old family friend, tried to pull him out. "Your father wouldn't want this," she said. But Arthur knew: his father would want justice—and in this world, fists delivered it louder than words.
Then came the betrayal.
Lance, Arthur's only childhood friend left, sold him out to the Circle. For money. For survival. For fear. Arthur barely escaped the ambush. Bruised, hunted, and bleeding, he dragged himself to the ruins of the dojo.
That night, the past came alive.
In the silence, Arthur remembered his father's final lesson: "True strength isn't what you use to destroy—it's what you use to protect."
Arthur stood, renewed. Not just to avenge. But to honor.
The next night, he challenged the Serpent Circle's enforcer—a towering fighter named Kaine, once trained by Ryker, now turned monster. Their battle shook the underground arena. Every punch was thunder, every dodge a whisper of death.
Arthur unlocked something deeper. A rhythm. A flow state. His body moved like water, like fire, like memory. And when Kaine fell, the crowd didn't cheer. They stepped back. Fearful. Silent.
The Ghost Fist had become something else.
But it wasn't over.
In the shadows, the Circle's true leader watched—a man known only as The Viper, a former ally of Ryker turned enemy long ago. His voice echoed in the dark:"You have your father's fire… but it will burn you in the end."
Arthur looked up, his fists dripping blood and rain.
"No," he said, calm and clear. "It'll burn you first."
The Path Has Only Begun.
Arthur walks forward, deeper into the storm. His past is shattered. His fists are his future.
And vengeance is far from over.