Fragile Troublemakers
Unlike the troublemakers of Group 34, Ethan's group seemed to have found a substitute without much trouble. In fact, there had apparently been quite a commotion with people lining up, eager to enter the tournament alongside Ethan. They easily cruised through the repechage round and, as everyone expected, advanced to the finals. However, it was clear that even they did not wish for a dirty victory.
"A sudden rule change? What kind of nonsense is this!"
Jing protested fiercely, while the others could only watch in silence, unable to utter a word. On the day of the finals, the participants—now familiar with waiting in the tent—were suddenly notified that the tournament rules had changed overnight. This happened a mere hour before the match was set to begin.
The simple, straightforward best-of-three rule remained unchanged. The problem was the newly added rule: a previous winner could participate in consecutive matches. It was a blatant scheme by the Temple to prevent Jing from ever setting foot on the arena. This practically sealed our defeat. Their first fighter would undoubtedly be Ethan, while our first would be either me or the bookstore owner.
"This makes no sense. Let me speak with the priests of the Temple."
Jing spoke with an intimidating aura to the Temple worker who had come to deliver the news of the rule change.
"It is because this tournament has seen an unusual number of unsavory matches that go against the spirit of Lucha," the worker replied.
Seeing that Jing looked ready to storm the Temple at any second, the worker added an explanation with an air of annoyance.
"After all, we have groups where more than half the members forfeit without even fighting."
As he spoke, the man glared openly at me.
"Should we not at least ensure that everyone participates at least once?" he answered dismissively.
In the end, their intention was to force everyone in Group 34 to face Ethan. To be fair, that was indeed the best way to increase the chances of Ethan's group winning. Aside from Ethan, none of them could possibly defeat Lia or Jing.
"Does everyone else agree to this?"
Realizing that reasoning with the worker was futile, Jing looked around and asked the other participants. However, no one from Group 12 objected. From their perspective, they had nothing to lose from this rule. It was sudden, but not a change significant enough to warrant defying the Temple.
"Seeing how no one else is complaining, it seems they do," the man said triumphantly, scanning the participants alongside Jing. "If you feel you cannot do it, you are free to forfeit. No one is holding you back."
The man did not even try to hide his expression, which practically screamed that he would be grateful if we did just that.
"Jing, stop. Nothing will change even if you argue."
"But, Lord Ran..."
At my intervention, Jing turned to look at me with a worried face. I knew he was getting so worked up on my account, but any further argument was a waste of time.
"I will forfeit immediately. There is no danger. Or do you take me for an idiot who cannot even utter a single word once I step up there, Jing?"
When I dug my heels in, Jing, left with no other choice, reluctantly stepped back. I took a seat in the spacious waiting area and shifted my gaze to Ethan, who was staring at our agitated group. His eyes tracked me like a beast watching its prey.
Bwooooh—
Amidst the tense atmosphere, the horn blew to signal the start of the match. The bracket had already been confirmed. The first match was, naturally, between Ethan and me. The next, hilariously enough, was the bookstore owner, and the last was Jing. It was an order that made a mockery of the spirit of Lucha. I stood up and waited for the referee to call my name.
"Um, Ran?"
Lia, who had been keeping her mouth shut awkwardly, spoke up.
"You have to forfeit. You must. Nothing is more precious than your life."
"I understand."
The bookstore owner, whose legs were trembling violently beside Lia, answered hastily. His face had turned pale ever since he confirmed his turn. Even if Ethan was completely shameless, there was no reason for him to beat an elderly bookstore owner half to death, yet the man was terrified.
"I wasn't talking to you, mister," Lia said coldly before looking back at me, demanding an answer.
I nodded willingly. "I understand."
At my half-hearted response, she stared at me with anxious eyes. "You are going to forfeit today, right?"
"Of course."
"Promise? For real?"
"Stop asking already."
When I frowned, Lia pursed her lips, but she continued to study my face. "But seriously, forfeit immediately. My brother is incredibly strong. You might get really hurt if things go wrong."
She muttered, as if needing to confirm one last time. In truth, it might not just end with getting hurt; I could end up permanently crippled. Still, I casually went along with her words. "I told you, I got it. I'll forfeit the moment I step up."
Just as I was starting to get annoyed, Lia fidgeted with her gloved hands and spoke softly. "I'm worried because you seem like a good liar, Ran. Jing is really worried about you too, so you absolutely must forfeit."
Since they would call me first, rather than Ethan—who was probably waiting leisurely for the match results inside the Temple's prison—it seemed better to head out early.
Stepping out of the room before the referee could even call my name, I spoke to Lia.
As I pushed open the tent flap, a thunderous roar of cheers washed over me. The crowd was highly pumped up by the fact that Ethan was fighting in the very first match. After all, our matches leading up to the finals had all ended in a mere three seconds. They probably thought they were finally going to see a proper fight.
Even though Ethan had not even made his entrance yet, the stadium was already shaking with deafening shouts. But the moment I stepped into the arena ahead of him, the cheering vanished as if it had been a lie. In its place, a different sound echoed.
"Coward!"
Triggered by someone's shout, boos and jeers began to ripple through the arena. I could feel their blatant malice, wanting me to cower, hang my head, and tremble with nerves. Not wanting to disappoint them, I raised a hand to acknowledge their "warm welcome."
The jeers directed at me grew even more intense, only to gradually subside when Ethan made his entrance. As soon as he appeared, the quieted arena began to heat up like slowly boiling water, before exploding once more into the same roaring cheers from earlier. Using the applause meant for Ethan as my personal red carpet, I walked toward the center of the ring.
As the distance closed between us, his face came into clearer focus. The fighting spirit hidden beneath his expressionless face burned in his eyes, sharp enough to pierce right through me. He knew. He knew that if he beat me half to death, Lia's guilt would prevent her from following us. His experiences over the past three years had surely taught him exactly how to manipulate the heart of someone consumed by guilt.
Once we were close enough to face each other directly, Ethan was the first to speak.
"As promised, I'm going to smash that mouth of yours today."
"A promise is a mutual agreement. What you did was an announcement, or perhaps a resolution."
At my retort, the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
"Still running that mouth even in this situation. Enjoy it while you can. From now on, you'll spend the rest of your life watching what you say."
This guy was stepping up to try and achieve something that no one had managed to do in my twenty-eight years of life.
"You always try to reach for things far beyond your capabilities."
Perhaps my words had pricked his pride, for a spark of anger flared in his brown eyes.
"Well, give it your best shot."
After all, anyone was free to try.
"Match start!"
The moment my silent encouragement ended, the referee declared the start of the match. Simultaneously, a left fist flew straight toward my face. As I barely dodged the blow and stepped back, Ethan raised an eyebrow.
"Better reflexes than I thought."
Proving that his victory three years ago wasn't just a fluke, his other fist immediately whipped around to strike my right ribs. Fortunately, Ran Abaran's body was fast enough to bring up a guard in time. However, with my center of gravity already shifted backward from the initial dodge, I couldn't avoid the knee strike that followed in rapid succession.
Thud! A heavy, solid impact echoed.
Thud!
"Ugh..."
Seeing Ran collapse after taking Ethan's knee to the gut, Lia let out a low groan, her sweaty fists clenching tightly. With Ran's posture broken, Ethan's merciless fists rained down upon him. Shielding his face with only his two arms, Ran looked utterly pitiful.
Why isn't he forfeiting?
Despite his confident promises to forfeit faster than anyone, Ran was somehow still dragging out the fight, desperately dodging Ethan's blows. The spectators looked down at the arena with ecstatic faces, eager to see him broken by Ethan's hands.
"Just forfeit already!"
"Haha, look at that pathetic sight!"
Mocking shouts from some of the villagers rained down on him. Yes, just forfeit. Why aren't you keeping your promise? Lia gnashed her teeth and leaned out of the waiting room window.
"Ran! Forfeit! Just forfeit already!!!"
At her scream, Ran raised his head slightly through the gap between his arms guarding against Ethan's onslaught. His black eyes locked onto Lia. And in that exact moment, Ethan grabbed one of Ran's arms.
Irritated by how long Ran was holding out, Ethan yanked Ran's arm aside to deliver a decisive blow. Seeing this, Lia squeezed her eyes shut.
Crack! A sickening, heavy impact reverberated through the arena.
"Aaaaargh!"
Along with it came a scream of someone writhing in agony.
The spectators held their breath as they stared down at the ring. To be precise, they were staring at Ethan, who was rolling on the ground clutching his fist, and the black-haired man, who remained on one knee with his arms still raised to protect his head.
Ethan's pain-filled groan echoed loudly. Or rather, the arena had fallen so silent that his groan was the only sound to be heard. I took a few steps back from him, pulling down my sleeve to hide the coarse fur peeking out between my glove and my cuff.
"You... what did you do?!"
Ethan struggled to his feet, cradling his rapidly swelling, red fist.
"You're the one who punched me. Why are you blaming me?"
"Don't mess with me! How could an arm be that hard if you didn't do anything? You hid something under your clothes, didn't you?!"
Well, I had hidden something. The dense muscle tissue of a lion—the Lion's Muscle—right beneath my skin. It was still difficult to control, and the shape of my arm tended to warp along with the transformation, which made it a bit of a hassle.
"They searched me before I entered the ring. Stop grasping at straws."
Strictly speaking, I wasn't carrying a weapon, so it wasn't a violation of the rules. This allowed me to remain perfectly composed.
Fuming, Ethan lunged forward and grabbed my arm. I could have easily dodged it, but I figured letting him bark up the wrong tree was the better option. It would make him look like he was just throwing a hysterical tantrum.
Ethan frantically yanked up my sleeve, but my arm had already reverted to its normal, human form.
"Is this how you've been winning all this time? Accusing your opponents during the match just to force a forfeit?"
As I sneered, he irritably let go of my arm.
"Ethan, do you forfeit?"
At the referee's question, Ethan gnashed his teeth and raised his arms, taking his stance once more.