"Azam. Look at me. Are you sure you're going to do this?" Coach Hisham said. His hand trembled a little as he held the boxer's face.
"Yes," Azam said. Hesitation had left his voice. In his mind, there was only one thing. Adrenaline flared in his veins, his body felt a little warmer, and his eyes became sharper than ever.
In this match, he was going to lose.
"Start!" The referee signaled. Both fighters entered their fighting stances within a heartbeat. Azam carefully studied his opponent's movement. A couple of jabs were thrown, but he quickly blocked them.
Azam stepped back a bit before launching himself forward, giving his opponent no time to react. He dodged the sloppy counter and landed a clean shot to their abdomen.
They stumbled back from the force of his punch. Seeing this opportunity, Azam began to punish his opponent harder. He threw another punch, but it was blocked.
A punch was thrown by his opponent, yet it only hit air. Azam threw a quick jab, but it was blocked. Seeing his attack didn't work, Azam retreated. Thankfully, that action caused his opponent's next attack to miss.
Azam smiled. He was undoubtedly the one in the lead for now. He threw a couple of jabs, testing the distance between them.
After a couple more clashes, the first round ended. Azam retreated to his corner, where his coach gave him some water to quench his thirst.
"Good, Azam. You just need to keep this up!" Hisham cheered.
"What are you talking about?" Azam said, his voice solemn. "It's just for spectacle. I even have to take a couple of hits to not make him look so pathetic. Where did they find this kid, anyway?"
Hisham just sighed. "You don't need to lose."
"I'm not. I'm winning, can't you see?" Azam grinned.
After all, today, he was going to lose.
The second round started, and suddenly, Azam, who had clearly been in the lead, was thrown into the corner of the ring and pummeled by punch after punch.
Azam quickly escaped, but that left his side exposed, and he was quickly punished for it. Azam groaned as a hit connected with his ribs.
And then—
Azam woke up and realized he was on the floor. He could hear the crowd chanting, counting down the numbers.
Damn, Azam chuckled. Did I get hit in the head? He quickly rose back up. His opponent smiled.
Ah... If this were a normal match, I'd have already wiped that shitstain grin off his face. Azam rushed in as soon as the match resumed.
Another punch came at his head. Thankfully, Azam blocked it. But that was a feint, and he realized it a little too late as another punch landed on his abdomen.
Azam retreated, but he was cornered once again. Punch after punch. He couldn't block them all.
Azam gritted his teeth and tried to counter-attack, but was quickly punished by his opponent. A fist connected with his face, and Azam was left in a defensive position.
Then, the bell rang.
The second round had ended.
Azam's face was a mess when he finally retreated back to his corner. Hisham hurriedly tried to treat his wounds.
"I told you. You don't need to do this, Azam."
Shut up.
Azam just stayed silent. The doctor quickly checked his eye. Hisham looked at him with pity. The doctor sighed and went to talk with the coach.
Hisham sighed and walked slowly back to Azam.
"Azam, listen here. The doctor said your head is badly damaged. You can't continue like this."
What? But they said I need to do it for three rounds, idiot. What do you mean I can't continue? Azam protested, but it was all in his head.
"Azam, listen. Let's just forfeit, okay? Please, I shouldn't have let your words sway me, but we can still retreat from this," Hisham said. Azam just groaned, pushing the man away from him.
"I'm okay. See?" Azam said, smiling through his busted face. "Don't stop me, Hisham. I need to do this. Just one more round, okay?" Azam said before getting up from his seat.
Ah... Shit. I can't do this. The floor's wavy.
Azam swayed a bit, trying his hardest to keep his balance. Thankfully, it looked convincing enough. Azam slowly stepped back into the arena.
"Yo, dude. Thanks, I'll even pay extra since you put on quite a show," his opponent whispered to him. But Azam was too out of it to even process the words.
"Start—"
The sound hadn't even left the referee's mouth before they both threw their hands. It was a fierce battle.
Or so Azam had thought. But a weak, quick punch to the jaw sent him straight to the floor.
Shit. I hope they count this, Azam prayed. He thought of countless ways he'd spend the money after this match, right before his body hit the ground.
Ah, I should've done this sooner, shouldn't I? I should have done this a lot sooner.
Azam woke up.
[Welcome, Soul Reaper Azam!]
Azam stared at the screen, confused. He looked around at his surroundings. He was in a room with a single bed, a wardrobe, and a lone mirror hanging on the wall.
"Where am I? Am I in the hospital?"
Azam shook his head, trying to remember how he got here. "I remember the match, but then... I suddenly got here." Azam sighed, lost. He took a look in the mirror.
"Nothing's amiss," he said as he carefully examined his face. But the fact that it was fine was even more suspicious. How could the punches have healed in mere days? Wait, maybe it had been way longer?
Azam reached into his pocket to search for his phone, but it was nowhere to be found.
"Wait, where's my phone?" Azam frantically searched for his phone. He pressed the system box by accident as he was searching. Unfortunately, he didn't see it change, nor did he read its contents.
"Is it outside?" Azam wondered. He quickly went to the door. Opening it, he quickly scanned the area, only to see an endless corridor stretching for miles.
"What... Where the hell did Hisham put me?" Azam said, stunned. Suddenly, he spotted auburn hair poking out from one of the other doors.
A person? Maybe I can ask her where the reception counter is— But before Azam could move, the door slammed shut, and the person hid themselves inside the room.
"Ah... She closed the door." Azam rubbed his head. "I was just about to ask what exactly this place is..."