The semi-final match began with a tense silence hanging over the arena. All eyes were fixed on the center—Arnold and Takey standing face to face. Takey made the first move, stepping in slowly as if testing the ground beneath him. For a moment, it looked calm… then suddenly, he accelerated.
His attacks came fast—sharp punches, quick kicks—but none of them connected. Arnold didn't rush, didn't panic. He simply observed. Every movement, every shift in balance—he read it all without wasting energy.
Takey grew faster with each attempt, putting more force into every strike. Still, nothing landed. Not even once.
Frustration started to show on his face.
"Why aren't you fighting back?!" he shouted.
Arnold stayed silent.
Round two began, and this time Takey didn't hold anything back. He charged forward with full strength, his movements fueled by anger rather than control. His attacks became heavier, more reckless—but Arnold handled them all the same way.
Clean blocks. Smooth dodges. Perfect timing.
It was like fighting a wall that could think.
Takey finally stepped back, breathing heavily. His fists trembled, not from weakness—but from disbelief.
"Why… can't I hit you?" he muttered, then shouted louder, "WHY CAN'T I TOUCH YOU?!"
Arnold took a step forward.
For the first time, he made a move.
Takey rushed again—
But in that instant, Arnold struck.
One punch.
Precise. Direct.
Takey dropped instantly.
Silence spread across the arena.
Arnold looked down at him for a moment before speaking.
"You're fighting to win," he said calmly. "Try fighting for someone. That's when you become stronger."
The bell rang, ending the match.
Takey had lost.
But the look in his eyes made it clear—he hadn't accepted it.
Later that evening, the sky had started to dim as Arnold, Ayelen, and Miyara walked back home together. The tension of the match had faded, but something still lingered.
Ayelen glanced at Arnold. "Why were you looking around during the fight?"
Arnold hesitated for a second. "I thought I saw someone," he said quietly, then shook his head. "Forget it. It's nothing. Don't overthink."
He paused, then added casually, "Let's just go home. I'll make your favorite beef."
Ayelen stopped walking and stared at him. "Since when do I eat that?"
Miyara burst out laughing. "Arnold, you do know he's never eaten non-veg in his life, right?"
Arnold rubbed the back of his neck. "…Yeah. Right."
They continued walking, almost reaching home, when two men suddenly stepped in front of them, blocking their path.
"You're coming with us," one of them said coldly.
Ayelen frowned. "And if we don't?"
The man's expression didn't change. "Then your father gets hurt."
Silence followed.
Ayelen clenched his fists, but he understood the situation. Without another word, he nodded slightly.
"…Fine."
Some time later, they found themselves deep inside a forest. The place felt wrong—too quiet, too still. And they weren't alone.
Around them stood a group of nearly thirty people.
In front—Rim and Takey.
Takey stepped forward, his expression dark. "You cheated."
"That's not true," Miyara replied immediately.
Before she could say more, someone grabbed her from behind and pressed a knife against her neck.
Everything froze.
Ayelen and Arnold moved instinctively—but Takey raised his hand.
"Stop."
They had no choice.
Takey looked straight at Arnold. "Let's settle this properly. A rematch."
No one spoke.
"If I win," he continued, "you quit MMA… and apologize publicly."
A brief pause.
"And if you win… you walk away."
Arnold didn't answer right away. He simply stared at Takey, then slowly began wrapping his hands.
Tight. Controlled.
"…Fine."
They stepped forward, facing each other once again.
The air grew heavy.
The tension sharper than before.
But just as the fight was about to begin—
Something felt off.
Something… unexpected.
• CHAPTER 4 ENDS •