The world snapped sideways.
The punch caught him high on the cheekbone. A bright, stunning crack. His head whipped back. The floor rushed up to meet him.
He hit the metal on his side, his shoulder taking the worst of it. A fresh wave of pain bloomed, hot and sharp. The air left his lungs in a whoosh. For a second, he just lay there, tasting blood in his mouth.
The crowd was a distant ocean roar. His own breathing was too loud in his head.
Get up.
Zack was standing over him, not even winded. "Stay down, Grey. It's easier."
Rafael pushed himself onto his hands and knees. His arms shook. Everything hurt. He spat a glob of red onto the shiny floor. He got one foot under him, then the other. He stood, swaying like a drunk.
Zack's smirk was back, but it was thinner now. Annoyed. "Fine. Have it your way."
He came in fast, but not as fast as before. He was getting careless. Thinking Rafael was finished.
A lazy jab came at Rafael's face. Rafael saw it. He remembered Fredric, taking hits, learning the shape of them. He didn't block it clean. He let his head roll with the punch, the knuckles just scraping his skin. It still stung, but it wasn't a hammer.
He stumbled back a step, making it look worse than it was.
Zack took the bait. He lunged forward, going for a big, fight-ending hook.
Rafael saw the shoulder drop. He saw the twist of the hips. He'd seen it three times already. His body, beaten and tired, knew what to do before his brain did.
He didn't try a fancy dodge. He was too sloppy for that. He just dropped his weight, falling into a clumsy crouch. Zack's fist whistled over his head, the force of the missed punch making Zack grunt and stagger off-balance.
For a single, wide-open second, Zack's whole side was exposed.
This was it.
Rafael didn't think. He pushed up from his crouch with everything he had left. It wasn't pretty. It wasn't a polished strike. It was a mess of limbs and desperation. His own fist, wrapped tight, swung up in a short, ugly arc.
It sank deep into Zack's side, right under the ribs.
A wet, thudding sound.
Zack's eyes went wide. His mouth opened in a silent, shocked "O". The air left him in a pained gasp. He didn't fall, but he buckled, stumbling back two steps, one hand clutching his side.
The crowd noise, which had been a background hum, suddenly surged. A wave of shock and excitement.
Rafael stood there, panting. His knuckles throbbed. He'd hit him. He'd really hit him.
Zack looked up. The annoyance was gone. Replaced by something raw and angry. The look you give a bug that just bit you.
"You," he wheezed, "are starting to piss me off."
He came forward again, but different now. No more playing. No more smirks. His attacks were tighter, sharper, more brutal. A professional cleaning up a mess.
A kick to Rafael's already-bruised thigh made him cry out. A jab snapped his head back. A fist to the stomach doubled him over, gasping for air that wouldn't come.
Rafael covered up as best he could, arms wrapped around his head. Blows rained down on his arms, his shoulders, his back. Each one was a fresh jolt of agony. He was just a punching bag now. A heavy, tired bag of pain.
He peeked through his arms. He watched Zack's feet. The shift of his weight. The rhythm of his breathing, a little ragged now from the body shot.
Another punch came. Rafael shifted his elbow, took it on the bone. It hurt, but it was better than his face.
He was learning the music of the fight. It was a brutal, painful song, but he was starting to hear the beat.
He couldn't win. He knew that. Zack was stronger, faster, better.
But he wasn't broken.
Fredric's face flashed in his mind. Bloody, wrecked, but not broken.
Not yet.
Zack threw another big right hand, frustrated.
Rafael saw it coming from a mile away. He didn't have the strength to block it. So he didn't. He let it come.
At the last second, he moved his head just a little. Just enough.
The glove grazed his ear, the force spinning him around. It was a glancing blow, not a clean hit. He used the momentum, falling into the spin, putting distance between them.
He ended up facing Zack again, his chest heaving. His vision was blurry. One of his eyes was starting to swell shut.
Zack was breathing hard now too. His fists were still up, but he was watching Rafael, really watching him. The anger was still there, but underneath it was something else. A flicker of confusion. This wasn't how this was supposed to go.
This nobody Grey was still standing. Still looking at him. Still learning.
Rafael wiped his bloody mouth with the back of his glove. He gave a shaky, lopsided grin.
"Cute," he rasped, throwing Zack's word back at him.
Zack's expression went flat. Cold.
He charged.
This was it. The end. Rafael knew it. He saw the final blow coming— a straight kick aimed right at his chest. He saw it, but he had nothing left to give. No way to avoid it.
So he did the only thing he could.
He met it.
He threw his own body forward, into the kick. It was a stupid move. A suicide move.
The kick slammed into him, a crushing impact that stole the world. But because he was moving forward, it didn't throw him back. It drove the air from his lungs, but it also put him right in Zack's space, too close for another power shot.
For a tangled moment, they were chest to chest. Rafael's arms, heavy as lead, wrapped around Zack in a weak, desperate clinch. He held on, like a drowning man to a rock.
He could feel Zack's heart hammering against his own. He could smell his sweat.
"Get off me!" Zack snarled, trying to shove him away.
But Rafael held on. Just for a second. Just long enough to whisper three ragged words into Zack's ear, his voice a broken thing.
"I'm still here."
Then Zack finally ripped free and shoved him back. Rafael stumbled, his legs giving out, and landed hard on the floor.
He didn't get up this time. He couldn't. He lay on his back, staring at the blinding lights above the arena. The world was a fuzzy, painful mess.
Zack stood over him, fist raised, ready to finish it.
But he didn't.
He just stood there, chest heaving, looking down at the wreck of a boy on the floor. The buzzer blared, sharp and final.
The fight was over.
Zack had won.
But as he turned to leave, he glanced back one last time at Rafael. There was no mockery in his eyes now. No anger. Just a quiet, unsettled look.
Rafael closed his eyes. The pain washed over him, a tidal wave.
He had lost.
But he had learned.
And for the first time, he knew, deep in his bruised bones, that he was a fighter.
And then -
The system appeared.
[ Battle Mastery - Unlocked ]
[ Martial Arts - Level 1 ]
[ Physical Stats - Updating... ]
The blue text flickered in the air above him, hazy and unreal through the edges of his failing vision.
Rafael blinked, not sure if it was the concussion or a hallucination. The words shimmered like light on water, cold and steady amid the chaos of pain.
Then—
A pulse.
It started deep in his chest. A slow, heavy thump, like a second heartbeat. The metal floor beneath him vibrated faintly, answering the rhythm.
His veins burned. Something cold slithered under his skin, coiling up his arms, threading through every nerve.
[ Synchronization in progress... ]