Ethan slowly awoke from his sleep, sitting on the edge of his bed. He glanced around at the cluttered desk beside him, piled high with notes and textbooks. He sighed with relief. The exam month had been one of the most exhausting periods of his life, and the results would be announced each day starting today. At least it was finally over.

His gaze shifted to the small, serene figure sleeping beside him. Lily, his little sister, was curled up with a peaceful smile on her face. She looked like a sweet angel, the only family he had left. Ethan's heart ached slightly as he remembered their rough beginnings. Born into a slum with parents who barely managed to scrape by, they were abandoned when their parents couldn't cope with feeding all four of them. The decision to cast off their two children as if they were mere burdens spoke volumes about their disregard. Ethan’s parents, consumed by their own struggles, had chosen to ignore their responsibilities rather than face them.

A single fortunate turn of fate had changed their lives, but Ethan often shuddered to think about what might have happened otherwise. He tried to push the dark memories away, focusing instead on the present.

Gently, he leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Lily’s cheek, rousing her from her slumber. She stirred, her big eyes fluttering open, and she greeted him with a sleepy, yet bright smile.

“Good morning, brother.”

“Good morning, little princess,” Ethan replied, his voice soft and warm. “Get up, freshen up, and come quickly for breakfast.”

“Hmmm,” Lily murmured, stretching her tiny arms before snuggling back into her pillow for a moment longer.

Ethan stood up, shaking off the remnants of sleep. He changed into his uniform and headed to the small kitchen to prepare breakfast, his thoughts lingering on how he’d managed to protect and care for Lily through their difficult lives.

Ethan carefully arranged the breakfast on the table, the aroma of freshly made pancakes and scrambled eggs filling the small apartment. Just as he set the plates down, Lily burst into the room, her school uniform crisp and neat. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she practically skipped over to the table, her morning energy evident.

“Morning, big brother!” she chirped, plopping herself down onto the chair and immediately starting on her breakfast with gusto. Ethan chuckled softly and began to gently brush through her hair, a task he’d taken on as part of their morning routine.

“How’s school going?” he asked, his tone light and filled with genuine curiosity. “And how are your friends?”

Lily, her mouth half-full of pancakes, beamed up at him. “Oh, it’s great! We’re learning about dinosaurs right now. And my friends, Mia and Noah, they’re doing well too. Mia’s been teaching me how to draw better, and Noah—well, he’s just as funny as ever. We had a surprise quiz yesterday, and I think I did pretty well!”

Ethan smiled, his heart swelling with pride. “That’s awesome, Lily. I’m sure you did great. Remember, if you ever need help with anything, just let me know.”

Lily nodded eagerly, her face lighting up even more. “I will, big brother. Thanks!”

After they finished their breakfast, Ethan helped Lily with her coat and backpack. They walked together to her school, Lily skipping alongside him with a joyful bounce in her step. Ethan kept pace with her, savoring these simple, yet precious moments.

At the school gates, Lily turned to Ethan, her eyes shimmering with a mix of excitement and affection. “Bye, big brother! Have a great day at university!”

“Bye, little princess,” Ethan replied, ruffling her hair affectionately. “Have a wonderful day at school.”

With a final wave, Lily dashed off towards her friends, her laughter ringing in the air. Ethan watched her for a moment, feeling a mixture of warmth and longing. He then turned and headed towards his own university.

Walking down the road, Ethan could feel the weight of countless eyes on him. The murmurs were hushed but constant, like an undercurrent of fear and disdain swirling around him. People stepped aside, giving him a wide berth as though he were a wild animal that might lash out at any moment. Their eyes betrayed their thoughts—disgust, fear, and perhaps even curiosity—but no one dared approach him.

And why would they?

Ethan was, by all appearances, a walking beast. Standing at six feet tall, his broad shoulders and muscular frame made him an intimidating figure. His shirt stretched across his chest, while his black pants fit snugly, showcasing years of hard physical labor. He had his sleeves rolled up, revealing the rough, jagged scars that crisscrossed his forearms—signs of a life lived in struggle. There was also a deep scar that ran near his right eye, adding a menacing edge to his otherwise emotionless expression. His face, hardened by years of hardship, revealed little. His eyes, dark and distant, seemed devoid of warmth, sending chills down the spine of anyone who looked too closely.

It wasn’t just his appearance that kept people at a distance. It was his presence. Ethan carried an aura of danger—silent, unspoken, yet undeniably real.

As he stepped onto the university campus, the usual buzz of conversation and laughter died down almost immediately. Students who had been casually chatting or hanging around froze when they saw him. Their eyes followed him, some with fear, others with disdain, but none dared to meet his gaze.

Ethan, unfazed by the silence, walked straight to his classroom, heading for his usual spot in the back corner. Without a word, he sank into his seat and rested his head on his arms, shutting out the world around him. To him, university lectures were a waste of time. He never got anything useful out of them and preferred to study alone. In class, he found it easier to just sleep.

The teacher soon entered, and the class echoed with a chorus of "Good morning, sir," but Ethan remained motionless, his breathing steady as he drifted into a light sleep. It was a common sight—Ethan dozing off while the rest of the class paid attention—and the professor, like everyone else, didn’t have the courage to wake him.

As the class neared its end, the professor cleared his throat and addressed the students. “Alright, I’ll be handing back your exam papers now. I’ve graded everything, so please check your marks and let me know if there are any discrepancies.”

The professor hesitated for a moment, glancing nervously at the back of the room where Ethan lay, still resting. Turning to the boy sitting in front of him, the professor whispered, “Can you wake him up, please?”

The boy cursed under his breath, clearly frustrated at having to sit so close to Ethan. With great reluctance, he reached out and tapped Ethan’s arm, quickly pulling back his hand as though it had burned him. “Ethan, wake up.”

Ethan’s eyes flickered open, dark and unreadable. He sat up slowly, stretching his neck before turning his gaze to the front of the room.

The professor began handing out the papers, calling out the marks as he went. One by one, the students took their sheets, reacting with joy, disappointment, or indifference. Finally, it was Ethan’s turn.

“Ethan, you scored 92 out of 100. Keep up the good work... as usual,” the professor said, his voice tight with forced politeness.

Ethan took the paper without a word, flipping through the pages in a matter of seconds. Satisfied, he tossed it back onto the professor’s desk and returned to his seat, resting his head on his arm once again. The professor blinked in surprise but said nothing, simply calling out the next student’s name with a sigh.

As Ethan lay there, trying to ease back into sleep, the whispers began. The students around him murmured, not even bothering to lower their voices.

“He must’ve cheated. There’s no way someone like him scores so high.”

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“I bet he threatened the professor. How else could he have gotten those marks?”

“Didn’t he do the same thing for the scholarship? Scared the principal into giving it to him, I heard.”

The accusations were sharp, but Ethan didn’t flinch. He had heard it all before—the rumors, the gossip, the lies. People were afraid of him, and they needed a reason to justify their fear. But he didn’t care. He had stopped caring what people thought of him long ago.

Without a second thought, he closed his eyes again, letting the dull hum of the classroom fade into the background as sleep claimed him once more.

The day dragged on, with Ethan waking a few times during class. One time, the entire room erupted in laughter when someone cracked a joke, the sound jolting him awake with an annoyed frown. The sight of his irritated expression instantly drained the laughter from the room. The other students froze, and the atmosphere shifted to tense silence. Even the teacher didn’t know whether to be grateful for the sudden calm or sorry for Ethan's classmates who had unintentionally angered him. The second time he woke was for lunch, where, as usual, he sat alone in the farthest corner of the university canteen, untouched by the crowd filling every other table.

After classes finally ended, Ethan stepped out of the university gates, his bag slung lazily over his shoulder. His usual path home was interrupted by the sight of a man leaning against a sleek, black Kawasaki Ninja H2R. The man had a cigarette between his fingers, his posture relaxed, but his presence as imposing as Ethan’s own. He had a physique nearly identical to Ethan’s—tall, broad, and scarred. In fact, the scars that marred his skin were even more numerous than Ethan's.

As soon as the man caught sight of Ethan, he stood up and laughed. His voice was deep and full of life.

"Hahaha! Where have you been, brother? I haven't seen you in a month!" the man called out, his grin wide as they embraced in a rough, friendly hug.

Ethan smirked slightly, accepting the helmet his friend tossed to him. “Been busy. Exams.”

“Well, hop on,” the man said, jerking his head toward the back of the bike. “Let’s catch up. Got some news for you.”

This was the turning point in Ethan’s life, the encounter that had changed everything. The man’s name was Matthew Graveseeker—a name that carried weight in the underworld.

Ethan’s mind drifted back to the day they had first met. He was just a 16-year-old kid, thrown out of the slums with his 3-year-old sister, left to survive on the unforgiving streets. Hungry and desperate, he had resorted to robbing for food, sleeping in alleyways, his life hanging by a thread.

One day, he had seen a group of rich kids, not much older than him, spending money carelessly at a high-end shop. Fueled by desperation, Ethan had made the reckless decision to rob them. But there were too many of them, and he was quickly overwhelmed. Trying to escape, he had punched Matthew—at the time, just another kid in the crowd—and bolted, only to be caught by five large bodyguards.

The moment they started beating him senseless, Ethan knew he had made a grave mistake. The boy he had hit was the son of the most powerful mafia boss in the country. As the bodyguards continued their assault, one of them barked, “You know who you just messed with, you dumb kid?!”

Ethan, bloodied and bruised, had dropped to his knees, begging not for his own life but for his sister’s. "Please... she needs me," he had cried out.

Just when he thought it was over, Matthew had spoken. Ethan had thought for a brief, fleeting moment that the son of a mafia boss might show mercy. But that hope was shattered with Matthew’s next words.

“The punch was good,” Matthew had said, grinning as he wiped the blood from his lip. “The guy I fought yesterday at the arena was no fun. I wasn’t satisfied. So, let’s make a deal. Get up and survive for five minutes. Entertain me.”

Ethan had no choice. The bodyguards had formed a circle around them, blocking any escape. His only option was to fight.

With blood dripping down his face, Ethan had glared at Matthew. “Crazy fucker,” he had muttered, before charging at him, fists raised.

Back in the present, Ethan snapped out of his memory as Matthew’s voice brought him back to reality. “Ethan! Don’t go sleeping on the back of my bike, man.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Ethan replied, shaking his head. “Was just thinking.”

“About the past again, huh?” Matthew asked with a chuckle. “What this time? When I beat the crap out of you for five minutes before dragging your ass to my dad?”

Ethan groaned. “Motherfucker…”

“Or maybe you’re thinking of the hell training my old man put you through afterward,” Matthew teased. “You know, you could still come live with me. I keep telling you, no one would mind.”

“I told you,” Ethan said, his tone firm but not harsh. “I don’t want to trouble you anymore. I can handle myself now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Matthew said, revving the engine. “So where have you been for the past month? Studying? Saw you hitting the books after our spars.”

Ethan sighed. “Yeah, exams. What about you? What happened at the arena? Anything worth mentioning?”

Matthew grinned, the excitement in his eyes unmistakable. “Got some new blood. A bunch of rich kids thinking they’re hot stuff after a couple of years of training. I wasn’t interested in them before, but now that you’re back, we can have some fun.”

Ethan smirked, cracking his knuckles. “Sounds like a good way to shake off the rust. Let’s go. Time to earn some cash.”

“I can give you as much as you want, man,” Matthew offered, laughing.

“Shut up and drive,” Ethan shot back, slipping the helmet on.

Matthew chuckled, revving the engine again. “Heh, classic.”

The bike roared to life, and they sped off, the city blurring past as they headed towards a night of adrenaline-fueled chaos.

The crowd roared as Ethan stepped into the ring, but the noise faded into a distant hum in his ears. The familiar sight of the makeshift coliseum, built out of an old football stadium, gave him a strange sense of comfort. It had been a month since he'd last set foot here, and the place still held the same raw energy—the same dangerous excitement.

"Come on, big guy," Mathew nudged him, grinning. "You planning on staring all night? We’ve got bones to break."

Ethan’s lips curled into a small smile. "Mathew… go easy on them."

"Yeah, yeah," Mathew waved it off, his grin widening.

Inside, the arena buzzed with anticipation. This wasn’t some underground brawl in a dingy basement. It was a full-scale, 24/7 fight club for the elite—dangerous, illegal, and completely unstoppable. Mathew’s father owned the place, and fighters from all over the world came to challenge the infamous champions. The police turned a blind eye, either out of fear or because they were paid well enough to keep quiet.

As Ethan entered the ring, a wave of silence spread through the crowd. The atmosphere shifted as whispers rippled through the audience.

"They’re back!" someone shouted, breaking the silence, and the crowd erupted into cheers.

Mathew shot a glance at the referee. "Rony, where are our guests from? Don’t keep us waiting."

Rony, a wiry man who acted as both referee and organizer, bowed slightly. "Sir, they’re from Japan. They’re in the VIP room. I’ll notify them—the main event will start soon."

Mathew smirked, nudging Ethan. "They say they trained under ninjas and know some ancient martial arts. Want me to go first?"

Ethan shook his head. "No, let me handle this. I need to finish quickly—I want to see Lily soon."

"Aww, sweet brocon," Mathew teased.

"Shut up," Ethan muttered, rolling his eyes.

Soon, a group of men in sharp suits entered the arena, accompanied by a few young Japanese fighters. One of them, a well-built man with a serious expression, stepped into the ring opposite Ethan. The crowd hushed in anticipation.

The Japanese fighter bowed, speaking with respect. "It’s an honor to fight the undefeated champion of the arena."

Ethan nodded in response, his face impassive.

Rony stepped forward, addressing the crowd. "As per the arena rules, today’s fight is a normal spar, not a weapon duel or deathmatch. I hope you all enjoy the show."

The Japanese fighter took a low stance, resembling a traditional ninjutsu stance, balanced and fluid. Ethan raised his fists into a classic boxing guard, his feet planted firmly on the ground. The contrast was striking—old-world martial arts versus modern combat techniques.

The fight began with the Japanese fighter launching a series of swift, precise kicks. Ethan blocked the strikes, but the speed and fluidity of his opponent’s movements were overwhelming. The crowd watched, murmuring in confusion as Ethan seemed to be on the back foot, his movements defensive and cautious.

From the sidelines, Rony turned to Mathew, frowning. "Sir, why does it look like he’s losing?"

Mathew leaned back, a knowing smirk on his face. "Has anyone fought using this martial art before?"

"No, sir," Rony admitted.

"Well, there’s your answer. Keep watching."

As the fight progressed, the Japanese fighter’s attacks became more relentless, his kicks slicing through the air with deadly precision. Ethan continued to defend, blocking with his arms and dodging when he could, but to the untrained eye, it looked like he was barely holding on.

Mathew’s mind drifted to a memory—a fight long ago. It was Ethan’s first real match, where he had started with no knowledge of boxing. Mathew had expected to break him in minutes. But as the minutes dragged on, something changed. Ethan began to defend more effectively, his movements mirroring Mathew’s own. By the tenth minute, Ethan was no longer just defending—he was attacking with the same techniques Mathew had used. The fight, meant to last five minutes, stretched to thirty, ending in a draw. Mathew, bloodied and exhausted, had realized then that Ethan wasn’t just tough—he was a prodigy.

"Unbreakable endurance. Perfect mimicry," Mathew muttered to himself. "A diamond in the rough."

Back in the present, the crowd gasped as Ethan suddenly switched tactics. The Japanese fighter had thrown another kick, but this time, Ethan didn’t block—he dodged with an eerie precision, slipping into the same stance his opponent had used. For a moment, the two fighters stood face to face, mirroring each other’s stance.

The fight resumed, but now Ethan was no longer defending with his boxing style. He was attacking with the same fluid, graceful movements as the Japanese fighter. Only, he was faster, more precise. The crowd watched in stunned silence as Ethan began to dominate the fight, using the very techniques his opponent had been relying on.

Rony’s voice broke through the stunned crowd. "Unbelievable."

Mathew chuckled. "Yeah. Crazy as always. Every time I see it, I’m reminded why he won against Dad last month."

Rony’s eyes widened. "HE WHAT ?"

The crowd erupted into wild cheers as the fight came to an end. Ethan had done it again.