Previous day.
"Tyrone Smith, I challenge you to a fist fight."
Those words echoed through my ears as I looked at the brown-skinned girl, average height, standing in front of me with distant brown eyes. Surrounding her were four other girls three fair-skinned, one with skin like hers. None of them looked surprised by her challenge.
"Tyrone, meet Julie the daughter of the Commander of Defense for Jupiter," Stormblade said casually, jolting me from my thoughts.
"So what do you say, Tyrone? Do you accept?" she asked, ignoring him entirely.
"Okay, but what do I get in return for fighting you?" I asked, half-hoping she'd back down.
"If I win, you leave Jupiter and never return. But if I lose, we become your personal guides throughout your stay here. So? Do you agree?"
"Fine," Stormblade interrupted before I could even think. "He accepts your challenge."
"He does?!" the girls shouted in unison.
"I do," I said finally, my own voice surprising me.
"Very well. We shall hold the contest tomorrow at exactly this time. Until then, feel free to explore my planet however you wish," the girl beside Julie added before they all turned and walked off.
I turned to Stormblade. "*Wow.* I just landed on Jupiter and you already threw me into a fight with the daughter of Jupiter's Commander of Defense. How am I supposed to beat her?"
"Calm down, kid. I only accepted because I believe in you—and in what you're capable of. Or do you think I don't know that behind all that powerless charade you put on to fool people… there's a beast with skills beyond this world?"
"Yeah, we all know about what happened with one of your former fitness instructors—Master Choi," Stormblade's assistant, Chad, added with a grin.
"Master Choi," I repeated, the name pulling me into memory.
Seven years ago.
He was a mean old grump with long white hair and a funny accent his tongue twisted around English like it wasn't meant for him. Japanese was his first language, and everything about him was rigid. Structured. Harsh.
He trained my older siblings alongside me, but they all bailed eventually. I stayed behind.
Then one day, he changed the rules.
"If you can land a single punch on me today," he said, "you win."
He didn't know I'd been watching him. Studying his every move. Training in secret counter after counter. Not because I wanted to impress him… but because I didn't trust him. He was unstable. I prepared in case he ever went too far.
We stood in the ring.
He attacked first fast and brutal.
BANG.
He swung his right leg at my face. I ducked it cleanly. My own kick lashed out, sharp and direct, catching his thigh. It took his balance and dropped him like a bag of cement.
"ARGH! You broke my leg, you pig! You'll pay for this!" he roared from the floor.
After that day… he stopped teaching me.
Now.
"Ty, are you ready to show that spoiled little girl how we do it on Earth?" Stormblade chuckled, patting me on the back.
I didn't respond.
Because I didn't need to.
The arena was packed.
Neon lights flickered around the stone-lined ring. The sky dome shimmered above us, pulsing with alien colors. Officers, cadets, even planetary delegates filled the observation stands.
Julie stepped into the center, back straight, fists clenched.
Her friends flanked the edges, smirking.
I entered without a word.
The AI voice rang through the dome. "Combat Initiated."
Julie didn't hesitate. She lunged, spinning mid-air with a flying knee meant for my head.
I sidestepped it. Cleanly.
She landed, pivoted with a roundhouse.
I ducked under and answered with a sharp kick to her thigh.
It staggered her—but I didn't press.
I waited.
She circled again. Her eyes narrowed.
She launched a flurry of punches. One-two. Elbow. Palm strike.
I weaved through them. Effortlessly. Watching. Calculating.
Then my turn.
I stepped in and landed a precise elbow into her ribs. She gasped.
Then a low sweep. She hit the ground.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
I didn't celebrate.
I backed off.
She rose again, fury in her expression. "You're not even powered!" she shouted.
I still didn't speak.
She charged.
I twisted past her jab, palm-struck her shoulder, then struck three pressure points along her side fast, surgical.
She dropped again. Hard.
She was breathing heavy now.
Confused.
Scared.
But still stubborn.
One last desperate attack wild and wide.
I stepped inside, blocked it at the wrist, then slammed my palm into her chest.
She flew backward, skidding across the arena floor.
The AI's voice echoed through the silence. "Victory: Tyrone Smith."
I didn't flinch.
Didn't bow.
Didn't even look at her.
I turned and walked away.
Julie lay on the ground, stunned maybe from pain, maybe from shame.
Her friends rushed to her side, stunned into silence.
The crowd was quiet. Unsettled.
Because I didn't fight like someone powerless.
I fought like someone they didn't understand.
Like someone they didn't want to provoke.
Stormblade whistled softly from the sidelines. "I told you," he muttered. "That boy doesn't fight to win. He fights to make a statement."
And me?
I just kept walking.
No words.
No pride.
Just control.
Just precision.
Just silence.