The referee's voice echoed through the arena. "5… 6…"
Elara lay motionless, his body sprawled across the canvas. The crowd's emotions split in two — some anxious for their fallen champion, others trembling for Pragyan's fragile victory.
Whispers filled the air. "Is it over?" "Elara's done… he can't get up."
But then, a guttural roar shattered the silence. "Ahhhh… ahhh… ahhhhhh… I… I… I didn't lose yet… ahhhh!"
The arena froze. Shock rippled through the crowd. The voice was unmistakable — Elara, still lying on the ground, his fury burning even as the referee's count continued.
"7…"
The tension was unbearable. Pragyan's eyes widened, his trembling body pressed against the corner.
"8… 9…"
Suddenly, Elara's body jolted. With a surge of fury, he arched his back and launched himself upward in one fluid motion — a back-to-feet spring that defied exhaustion. His body snapped upright, fists clenched, eyes blazing with rage.
The crowd erupted in shock. "He jumped back to his feet!" "Elara's alive!"
Pragyan's heart sank. His temple smash had landed, but the champion's pride refused to stay down. The fight was reborn at the very brink of defeat.
The crowd erupted in disbelief. "He's back!" "Elara rose from the dead!"
Pragyan's heart pounded. His one decisive punch had landed, but the champion's pride refused to stay down. The battle was far from over.
The match resumed. Blood streamed down Elara's face from the temple smash, yet his lips curled into a chilling smile. It wasn't the grin of a fighter — it was the twisted smile of a villain.
The crowd recoiled, their cheers fading into whispers of fear.
"What… what happens to him? Is he smiling?" "No… it's worse than that. I've never seen Elara like this before."
The arena's energy shifted. The champion's aura, once proud and arrogant, now radiated something darker — fury mixed with madness.
But in the shadows, one man recognized it instantly. Rajan's eyes widened, his heart pounding. "What? Why is Elara smiling like this? Has he snapped? No… this is dangerous. I have to hurry to that place before it's too late."
Without hesitation, Rajan rushed from the room, his footsteps echoing like a warning bell. He knew what that smile meant — Elara was no longer fighting for victory. He was fighting to destroy.
The bell rang again. Elara stood across the ring, blood dripping from his temple, his eyes burning with fury. His aura was no longer arrogant — it was murderous.
Karikalan's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. "Why are you staring at him? It's your chance! Spill everything you've got! That guy lost his consciousness — now he won't focus on his moves. He'll try to kill you."
Pragyan's eyes widened. "What? Kill me? No… there's no way he can do that."
Karikalan's face twisted with anger. "You idiot! He's raged. Don't think you have the upper hand. If he knocks you out with a single attack, you'll be done in a second. But listen — if you survive his fury, then you can defeat him."
The words struck Pragyan like lightning. His trembling face hardened, his fists clenched, his spirit ignited.
"Then… I have no choice. I'll throw everything I have."
The crowd roared, sensing the clash of wills. Elara's fury against Pragyan's resolve — one fighting to destroy, the other fighting to endure. The ring became a battlefield where survival itself was victory.
Pragyan surged forward, his fists blazing. A hitter punch slammed into Elara's jaw — but the champion didn't dodge. He took the blow head-on.
Pragyan's eyes widened. "What? He's… letting me hit him?"
He unleashed everything — punches, razor kicks, leg-raising chin strikes. Each attack landed, each strike echoed through the arena. Yet Elara absorbed them all, his body trembling, blood dripping, but his feet refusing to leave the ground.
The crowd gasped in disbelief. "He's not defending… he's taking every hit!"
Finally, Pragyan's leg whipped upward in another chin-raising strike. The impact lifted Elara off his feet, his body flying for an instant. The arena roared — but then silence fell.
Elara twisted midair, his head snapping back with a grotesque smile. He landed on the stage with an aura darker than ever. His lips curled, his eyes gleamed with madness.
Pragyan staggered backward, his breath caught in fear.
"What is this…? Why is he smiling after all that?"
Then Elara's voice tore through the arena, a monstrous scream that shook the walls. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The crowd froze, their fear palpable. Elara was no longer just a champion — he had become a monster who thrived on pain.
Pragyan staggered backward, his breath ragged, his eyes wide with dread.
"What a jerk… he's still standing. Even after all my attacks, he smiles at me like I'm nothing. That smile… it's not arrogance anymore. It's fear — but it's fear that he's forcing into me. How… how can it be?"
Across the ring, Elara's grin stretched wider, blood dripping from his temple, his aura radiating madness.
Karikalan's voice cut through the tension, heavy with concern. "This is bad. At this rate, one of them will definitely faint. Their bodies can't endure this much longer."
Richard's eyes narrowed, his tone sharp. "Elara snapped. It happens when you lose control — usually it vanishes in seconds. But he's still holding it. How much anger does he have? Is it toward Pragyan… or someone else? It's getting worse."
Suddenly, footsteps echoed. Rajan burst into the arena, his face pale with urgency. "He's really out of control. If I don't get involved, this will become a huge problem."
The crowd fell silent, sensing the shift. Elara was no longer just a fighter — he was a storm of rage, a monster whose fury refused to fade. Pragyan's trembling spirit faced not just a champion, but a force that threatened to consume the ring itself.
Pragyan's breath burned in his chest, his legs trembling, but his resolve sharpened. "There's no room for me to control him. I'll try the same combination… the temple smash punch."
He surged forward, his left fist shooting out in a sharp jab. Elara, as expected, leapt above the floor, his monstrous grin still carved across his bloodied face.
Pragyan's body spun, his round kick slicing through the air — the same rhythm, the same trap. The crowd gasped, recognizing the move.
But this time, Pragyan's mind raced ahead. His right arm rose, coiling into an uppercut — a feint, a shadow of the strike Elara thought he knew.
Elara's eyes narrowed midair. "He's repeating it… but why?"
Pragyan's thoughts roared inside him. "This time… I'll finish it. The right arm is the bait. The left will be the temple smash. He won't see it coming."
His left arm tightened, ready to explode with the decisive blow. The arena froze, every heartbeat echoing louder than the referee's count had moments before.
Pragyan's plan unfolded flawlessly. His feint worked, his left arm crashed into Elara's temple — the second temple smash, the move that had once toppled the champion.
The crowd gasped, Karikalan, Richard, and Veera frozen in disbelief.
"He landed it again!" But their shock turned to horror.
Elara didn't flinch. His body absorbed the blow, his grin widening into something monstrous. His fist coiled, then shot forward like a spear, slamming into Pragyan's chest.
"Is that all you've got, brat?" Elara snarled, his voice dripping with contempt. "You think you can beat me by using the same move repeatedly? Do you think I'm an idiot?"
His punches rained down like thunder, driving Pragyan into the corner. Each strike shook the ring, each blow chipped away at Pragyan's defenses.
Pragyan crossed his arms, trying desperately to shield himself, but the force was overwhelming. His consciousness flickered, his body trembling.
"I can't hold on much longer… Is he a monster? How can anyone survive the double temple smash punch?"
Karikalan's voice roared from outside the ring, sharp and commanding. "Kid, don't lose your guard! Keep it tight and find a gap to escape his attack!"
But inside, Karikalan's thoughts were heavy. "This is bad. He's soaked in Elara's fury, twisted by arrogance. The only way Pragyan can survive is to find a gap — a single opening in the storm."
The arena trembled as Elara's fists hammered down, his monstrous aura consuming the fight. Pragyan's spirit flickered, but his resolve refused to break.
Elara's fists began to slow, each punch dragging as if weighed down by exhaustion. Blood dripped from his temple, his breath heavy.
Pragyan's eyes lit up. "That's it… he's losing energy. This is my chance!"
With trembling resolve, he surged forward, clinching Elara and pushing him away from the corner. The crowd gasped, sensing the underdog's desperate counter.
But then, Elara's voice cut through the arena, ragged yet dripping with malice. "Ah… ah… do you think I slowed my punches without intent?"
Pragyan's heart froze. His eyes widened in horror. "What? He did it intentionally?!"
He tried to lean backward, his body screaming for retreat. But Elara's aura surged, monstrous and unrelenting.
"There is no time for you to lean back… it's your end, brat! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Elara's roar shook the ring, his fists coiling for the decisive strike. The trap had been sprung — Pragyan's hope had turned into peril.
Elara's eyes gleamed with monstrous intent. His leg shot upward, knee aimed directly at Pragyan's chin.
Pragyan's thoughts raced. "What? He's aiming for my chin… I have to defend—"
But before his guard could rise, the knee connected with crushing force. Pragyan's body lifted off the ground, suspended in the air as the arena fell silent.
The crowd gasped, their voices swallowed by shock. "He… he sent him flying with just a knee!"
As Pragyan's body descended, Elara's aura surged again. His leg whipped upward, toes sharpened like a spear. The strike smashed into Pragyan's backhead with monstrous power.
The stage itself cracked, collapsing under the force. Dust and debris exploded outward as Pragyan's face was driven into the floor, leaving a jagged hole where his body sank.
The arena froze. Silence hung heavy, broken only by the echo of destruction. Elara stood tall, bloodied but grinning, his monstrous aura consuming the ring. Pragyan lay buried beneath the shattered stage, his fate uncertain.
Referees and staff rushed onto the shattered stage, their faces pale with urgency. Pragyan lay motionless, his heartbeat slowing, his body buried in the debris. The arena, once roaring, was now drowned in silence.
Veera stood frozen, his eyes wide with horror. The devastating moment against his brother's fate carved itself into his soul. Tears streamed down his face as he whispered,
"Brother… you gave everything."
Karikalan, Richard, and Rajan sprinted toward the stage. Rajan's focus, however, turned sharply to Elara. He grabbed his arm, his voice urgent.
"Elara, are you fine? Did you feel any struggle in your knees? Tell me."
Elara blinked, his expression dazed. "Yeah… I'm fine. I don't know what happened in the past five minutes. Did I… win the match?"
Rajan's voice trembled. "Yes, you won. But I was scared… you lost control."
Elara's eyes widened in shock. "What? I… lost control while fighting that brat?"
Rajan's tone was firm. "Yes. Certainly."
Meanwhile, the referee knelt beside Pragyan, his voice sharp with urgency. "This is bad. His condition is worsening. Take him to the hospital immediately!"
Staff lifted Pragyan's body, rushing him out of the arena. Veera collapsed near the corner, his cries echoing louder than the crowd's silence.
"I thought you would win, brother. You did everything for us. You sacrificed your life for our family. I asked for a gift for my bestie at Christmas… you ignored it first. I had no idea how much you suffered, how hard you fought, just to gain the prize money for me."
Veera's sobs shook the air, childlike and raw, as he clung to the sight of his brother's battered body. The arena was no longer a battlefield — it had become a place of grief, sacrifice.
Veera knelt beside his unconscious brother, tears streaming down his face. His cries echoed through the arena, raw and childlike. "Brother… you gave everything for us. You sacrificed your life for our family…"
But then, footsteps approached. Elara and Rajan stood over him, their expressions twisted with annoyance at his grief.
Elara sneered. "Hey, listen brat. I defeated your brother fair and square. He thought he could win against me. Foolish."
"Raj, come here," Elara called.
Rajan stepped closer, his tone curious. "Why did you call me, Elara?"
Elara smirked, his voice dripping with cruelty.
"I think we can make him our apprentice."
Rajan frowned. "Why are you saying this? Do you think he's superior to his brother?"
Elara scoffed. "What? Are you serious? That whiny little ugly punk superior to him? Don't make me laugh."
Rajan chuckled, twisting the knife further. "No, I mean he's superior at one thing — removing the stink from my shoes."
The two burst into loud laughter, their voices echoing across the arena.
"Hey Raj! I didn't expect you to joke like that," Elara said between laughs.
Their laughter rang out, cruel and careless, while Veera's sobs continued in the corner.
The contrast was unbearable — arrogance mocking innocence, cruelty overshadowing sacrifice.
Karikalan's fists twisted with rage, his eyes burning as he watched Elara and Rajan laugh at Veera's grief.
"How dare they? Even in sadness, they mock the poor child. How far will they go like this?"
He stormed forward, his voice sharp as steel. "Hey, Raj!"
Rajan sneered, his tone dripping with arrogance. "Here comes another big stinker.
What do you want, ugly brat? Do you want the same prize from Elara?"
Karikalan smirked, his words calm but edged with venom. "Listen. I came to congratulate Elara for winning, that's all."
He turned his head, walking away. But then he stopped, his voice rising like thunder.
"But I haven't finished yet! Rajan — you will be my target next. Tomorrow, when you fight against me, I will show you no mercy. I will kick your butt and throw you out of the ring.
This is my vow, made now, for the younger child who suffers because of your cruelty."
The arena fell silent. Rajan's smirk faltered for a moment, sensing the weight of Karikalan's words. Veera's tearful eyes lifted, hope flickering in his grief.
Karikalan's vow was not just a promise of battle — it was a declaration of justice.