Sometimes, opportunity knocks. Sometimes, it grabs you by the collar and drags you into the ring.
I stared at the message, lips tightening.
The name… MR Promotions.
I think I know that company. It's a small-time combat organization, mostly boxing and some MMA. They promoted underground rising stars with flash and flair and then sold them to bigger orgs for fat checks.
This is either a shortcut or a trap.
11:15 AM, Student Commons
Kai leaned back on the bench outside the gym, with a water bottle sweating in his hand. Sunlight warmed his skin, but inside he was cold, calculating.
He'd been offered contracts before.
Not in this life but the last.
Military black-ops, warlords, and blood-money merc deals. Each one wrapped in smiles and soaked in lies.
This was different. This was legal.
Probably.
He tapped the number and hit call.
"Hello?" came a female voice, upbeat but rehearsed. "This is Natalie from MR Promotions. Is this... Kai Mendoza?"
"Yes, it is."
There was a pause.
"Great! Mr. Ramirez—our CEO—was very impressed with your sparring clip. We're looking for new faces in our Rising Gloves campaign. Would you be interested in discussing a short-term promotional fight package?"
Kai narrowed his eyes. "What's the catch?"
"Catch? No catch," she said too quickly. "Just money, opportunity, and maybe a shot at putting your name out there."
He almost laughed.
'There's always a catch.'
Fight package.Promotional events.Cash.
This wasn't just a dream job—it was the kind of fast track I needed. Not just for fame but also for funding.
Rent, food, gym time, gear, travel, and licensing fees. Maybe helping out the orphanage I grew up in, if I ever make it.
If I can walk into a cage and make five grand? I'd bleed for it.
But I wasn't going in blind.
[VALKYRIE COMBAT PROTOCOL – ACTIVE]
Threat Assessment Module: Negotiation Mode Engaged.
Risk Level: LowOffer Credibility: 71%Strategic Suggestion: Accept Trial Contract, Limited TermPerformance Bonus: YESLegal Loopholes: YES — Recommend legal counsel if possible
'Thanks for the honesty, Valkyrie.'
"Send the contract to my email," I told her. "I'll look it over."
"Wonderful! You're going to love this. We've got an exhibition match in Miami this Saturday. $3,000 guaranteed just for stepping into the ring."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Opponent?"
There was hesitation.
"That… hasn't been confirmed yet."
'Yeah. Thought so.'
"Send the full terms," I said again.
Click.
Later That Day – Dorm Room
"Bro." Eli stared at my screen. "You serious? This is some Netflix drama arc. You fight one dude and now you're headed to Miami?"
"I haven't signed anything yet."
He leaned over my shoulder, squinting at the contract. "Damn. That font looks rich."
I snorted.
The truth was, it looked too clean, too polished. Like they hired lawyers who made sure you wouldn't read between the lines.
Clause 18.2: "MR Promotions reserves the right to substitute opponent within 12 hours of match time due to injury, unavailability, or promotional reasons."
'Right. So I might walk in expecting a boxer and get fed to a jiu-jitsu demon.'
I copied the contract. Saved it. Printed a hard copy.
Old habits.
Campus Café – 6:40 PM
"Wait, you're actually going?" asked Jess.
Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper over the café's hum. She was always soft-spoken, but you could hear the weight behind it if you paid attention.
Jess Rivera was a studio arts major with sharp eyes and charcoal-stained hands. We had two electives together. She was this body's friend, kinda, maybe something more?
"I'm thinking about it," I said, sipping my coffee.
"Why?"
I paused.
Most people would've said, for the money.
But Jess wasn't most people.
I looked her in the eyes.
"Because I need to prove something. To myself. And maybe… build something real."
She blinked. Then nodded, like she understood something I didn't.
"You know," she said, "if you do this… there's no going back. People don't forget violence."
"I know."
She reached into her bag, pulled out a sketchpad, and slid something across the table.
It was me, captured mid-spar, drawn in bold, sweeping black strokes. Caught mid-pivot, fist connecting.
She smiled faintly.
"Don't die in Miami, okay?"
Training Montage
[SCHEDULE MODE – ENGAGED]Monday to Friday:
6 AM: 3K Run
7 AM: Pad Work
9 AM: Class
12 PM: Sparring Drills
3 PM: Conditioning
6 PM: Tactical Simulation
Bonus XP Gained for Consistent Daily Adherence: +10%
Each day blurred into sweat and impact.
I sharpened my jabs, practiced my hip torque, studied opponents' styles, rewatched every fight, and shadowboxed until my shoulders screamed.
I wasn't just training.
I was crafting a weapon.
My body, a forge.
My system, the smith.
And my purpose… is clear.
Friday – 11:58 PM, Miami
The hotel was cheap but clean. I stood shirtless in front of the mirror, wrapping my fists slowly.
[Stat Update]STR: 3.8SPD: 4.0END: 3.5STAMINA: 4.2Boxing: Lv. 2Muay Thai: Lv. 1Combat Rank: E-
[Upcoming Match Detected]
Opponent: "King Klay" RobinsonRecord: 9-1 (Underground)Style: BrawlerHeight: 6'3" / Weight: 215 lbsDanger Rating: HIGH
Eli's Voice Message:
"Dude… that guy broke someone's nose with a knee in sparring. Are you sure about this?"
I stood in the hotel room alone, heart pounding.
My last life ended with a bullet.
This life? Might start with a fist.
I looked into the mirror and exhaled.
'Let's see if I'm still the same monster I used to be.'
Saturday – Fight Day
The crowd roared.
Strobe lights flared.
Announcers hyped me up like I was already a star.
"And making his debut—Kai Mendoza, college underdog turned viral knockout artist!"
My name echoed across the arena.
I stepped into the cage.
King Klay stood on the other side. He's huge, built like a tank. He's already grinning like he wants to eat me alive.
My fists tightened.
[VCP Combat Analysis: ACTIVE]
Reaction Delay: 0.2s on left uppercut
Chin Durability: Average
Strategy: Wear down his footwork with low kicks. Bait his right overhand. Finish with elbows inside clinch.
The bell rang.
I grinned.
'Let's dance.'