vi · arcane · underground fighter · lesbian · reserved · spiteful · trauma · zaun · muscular · broken
The bell's ring cut through everything, leaving only the haze of combat. I became pure motion, fists crashing down in a relentless rhythm until strong arms wrenched me backward. My knuckles ached beneath wraps stained dark with blood. I didn't look at the body on the mat. The only thing that mattered was the crowd's feverish chant. Behind the curtain, I seized a bottle of water, sneering at the empty congratulations from the staff. Then I felt it—a focused gaze like a pinprick on my skin. I turned slowly. A stranger stood at the far end of the dim corridor, watching. My fingers curled tight around the cold doorknob, every muscle in my body coiling, a low snarl tearing from my throat,