The coliseum thundered with life.
Trumpets blared, drums pounded, and the air shook with the roar of thousands. Sunlight poured through banners snapping in the wind, their colors blazing red and gold above the stone walls. Merchants shouted bets, children waved flags, and even the guards strained forward to see the spectacle about to begin.
In the middle of it all, Orin bounced on his toes like a child waiting for candy.
"THIS IS AWESOME!" he hollered, waving both arms to the crowd. "YOUR FUTURE CHAMPION HAS ARRIVED!"
The stands erupted with laughter.
"Look at that brat!"
"He's gonna break before the bell even rings!"
"Whose son is he? Get him back to school!"
Orin grinned wider, cupping his hands to his mouth. "FEAR NOT, PEASANTS! I'LL WIN AND MARRY YOUR DAUGHTERS!"
The laughter doubled, some booing, some jeering. A group of gamblers shouted, "Two punches max! That's all he'll last!"
From his seat near the arena floor, Code sat with arms folded, his staff propped at his side. His expression was calm, unreadable, though the faintest twitch tugged at his lip as he watched Orin wave like a clown.
High above, on the Governor's balcony, Mayor Geralt Veyra leaned forward, broad shoulders tense under his robes. His daughter sat beside him, posture poised, emerald eyes calm—Yullan Veyra, silver hair gleaming in the sun. She studied the boy below without expression, though a flicker of amusement touched her lips.
The announcer's voice boomed. "First round, adult division! Street fighter Garrek the Iron Fist… versus… Orin of Riverbend!"
The gate clanged open. Out stomped a man thick as a bull, chest bare, arms covered in scars. His fists were wrapped in chains, knuckles already cracked and bloody from past fights. He raised his arms and the crowd roared approval.
"CRUSH HIM!" they screamed.
Garrek sneered down at Orin. "You're gonna regret stepping in here, brat."
Orin tilted his head, squinting. "You look like dinner leftovers."
The crowd howled. Garrek snarled.
The bell rang.
Garrek charged.
His boots thundered across the stone, each step shaking dust from the walls. He swung a massive haymaker, fist wrapped in chain flashing through the air.
Orin stood still.
CRACK.
The punch smashed across his face. Slow-motion: his cheek rippled, spit and a trickle of blood flying. His body spun and slammed into the sand, rolling end over end.
The crowd erupted, a wave of mocking cheers.
"HAHAHA! One hit!"
"Told you, two punches max!"
"Kid's already dead!"
In the balcony, Yullan sat back, lifting her fan lightly to hide a smile. "That was fast," she murmured.
But down in the ring, the boy stirred.
Dust drifted as Orin pushed up on his elbows. His lip bled. His cheek swelled. And he grinned, wide and bright, eyes sparkling.
"Nice punch," he said, wiping the blood with his sleeve. "My turn."
He dropped into his crouch—Beast Stance. His breathing slowed, steady. His fists clenched, aura flickering blue across his shoulders.
The laughter in the stands faltered. A murmur spread.
"Wait… he's getting up?"
"What kind of kid smiles like that?"
Garrek's grin faltered, but he charged again, roaring. His fists swung left, right, like sledgehammers.
Orin slipped under the first, sand spraying. He bent backward under the second, chain flashing above his nose.
Then his fist shot up.
CRUNCH.
Uppercut to the jaw.
Garrek's head snapped back, teeth cracking audibly. The crowd gasped in unison, a rolling OHHHH that shook the coliseum.
Orin laughed, eyes wild. "Woo! Crunchy sound!"
Garrek staggered, rage twisting his bloody mouth. He lunged, grabbing Orin by the shoulders, trying to slam him into the ground.
Orin's knee shot up.
BOOOOM.
His knee buried into Garrek's gut. The big man's eyes bulged, spit flying. Before he could drop, Orin spun, backfist slamming across his face. Blood sprayed, chains rattling.
The arena went silent.
Yullan leaned forward, emerald eyes glinting. "So he's not just a clown," she whispered. A faint blush warmed her cheeks as the crowd gasped at every brutal blow.
Her father scowled. "Impossible. No child should strike like that." He motioned to a guard. "Find out who that boy is."
Garrek staggered, barely on his feet, chains slipping from his knuckles. The crowd, once mocking, now held their breath.
Orin cracked his knuckles, grinning. "Alright. Showtime."
He inhaled sharply. His palms came together. Aura flared—blue sparks snapping around his fists.
"BEAST DRAGON BURST… LITE VERSION!"
He thrust forward.
Shockwave.
Blue energy erupted, slamming Garrek square in the chest. Slow-motion: his eyes bulged, his body lifted, spinning midair. The blast cracked the stone floor beneath Orin's feet, dust exploding outward.
Garrek flew across the ring, chains flailing, and crashed outside the boundary in a heap.
Silence.
Then the coliseum erupted.
"WHAT—"
"HE BLEW HIM OUT—"
"THE KID'S A MONSTER!"
"NO—HE'S THE NEXT CHAMPION!"
The stands shook with stomps and cheers.
Orin raised his fist high, blood on his lip, grinning like he'd just stolen the world. "FUTURE CHAMPION, FUTURE HUSBAND MATERIAL!" he bellowed.
The crowd roared louder, half cheering, half laughing in disbelief.
On the balcony, Yullan pressed her fan to her lips, eyes sparkling, blush faint but undeniable. Her whisper was almost lost in the storm.
"Wild boy… interesting."
Mayor Veyra's jaw tightened.
Down below, Code sat still, staff across his knees. His expression was unreadable, but in his eyes burned a quiet fire.
The world has no idea what it just witnessed, he thought. But soon, it will.