The young [Fighting Master] drained his glass of snake fruit liqueur and began to speak of the past.
"As you can see, I am a [Fighting Master]."
"A [Fighting Master] from the underground fighting pits of the Saintisman Sacred City."
His voice was low and melodious, filled with wine and stories.
"In my years there, I would knock down at least three enemies with my fists every night, basking in the cheers of the crowd."
"Most of the time, my opponents fell to my fists."
"Of course, I was occasionally knocked down by powerful fighters myself. But as you can see, I possess a will of steel. I would always get back up, again and again, until I had exhausted every last ounce of my strength."
"I am powerful. I am fearless."
"But… I always felt like something was missing. Do you know what I mean, my friend? It's a truly terrible feeling."
"Then one day, I heard a story from the distant Northern Border Region—the story of a [Fighting Master] and a [Rat King]."
