At the top of the stands, in an exclusive section of the arena, Khabixan stood with an imposing presence. He wore immaculate white clothes that contrasted with his bare feet and the bandages covering his battered torso. His sharp, calculating eyes followed every movement of the fight between Thamuz and Bhaxmunt as he took a drag from an improvised cigarette that emitted a peculiar yellow smoke.

“If I hadn’t been so overconfident, I could have killed you with a single technique,” he muttered to himself, exhaling a cloud of yellowish smoke.

“Not even with your best technique could you have won,” a familiar voice resonated behind him.

Khabixan turned sharply, coming face to face with Bhogtan. The newcomer’s head was almost completely wrapped in bandages, leaving only his piercing eyes and mouth visible.

“Well, it looks like you’ve woken up too,” Khabixan remarked, turning his attention back to the fight.

Bhogtan positioned himself next to him, his presence equally imposing. “My chest still hurts a lot, and I’ve got a hell of a migraine,” he confessed.

“We’re in the same boat...” Khabixan responded with a hint of empathy.

With a casual gesture, Khabixan offered the cigarette to Bhogtan, who accepted it. As he inhaled, the smoke formed abstract patterns in the air, as if it had a life of its own.

“This is the good stuff,” Bhogtan laughed, handing the cigarette back.

“Yeah, it’s helped with the pain,” Khabixan nodded.

Bhogtan’s tone shifted to a more serious one. “Hey, by the way, I heard they found your brother-in-law pretty messed up. I think he had a broken leg and shattered ribs.”

Khabixan nodded, taking another drag. “Yeah, I heard too. That idiot’s always been hot-headed. Seems like he finally ran into someone who could teach him a lesson.”

“Who do you think it was? Maybe it could have been...”

Khabixan interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “Hey, you’re talking quite formally now, aren’t you? What happened to the wild and rude Bhogtan that everyone always sees in the arena?”

Bhogtan smirked slyly. “Oh, that. Well, gotta keep the crowd entertained, right? Seems like they like it when I act like a brainless savage. All the stuff I’ve consumed to get this body might’ve fried my brain a bit, but not as much as they think.”

“I see, you’re easier to talk to this way,” Khabixan said, leaning back slightly. “By the way, what do you think of the fight?”

Bhogtan tilted his head forward, a slight gasp of pain escaping his lips as he watched the arena. A broad smile spread across his bandaged face.

“It looks like a game of chase,” he commented between restrained laughter.

Khabixan raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Why do you say that?”

“Just look at them,” Bhogtan explained, crossing his muscular arms. “A hit, they pull back, chase each other, and then another hit. It’s like the games we used to play as kids.”

Khabixan nodded, thoughtful. “Maybe, but don’t you find something curious about Thamuz?”

“What?” Bhogtan asked, his interest palpable.

Khabixan leaned forward, his voice lowering to a more serious tone. “Just look at his wounds compared to Bhaxmunt’s. They’re bigger and more lacerating. Even I would be on the ground crying in pain, but he takes it naturally. He grimaces and screams, but he always keeps going. It was the same when I fought him.”

He tossed the cigarette to the ground, crushing it with his bare foot. “Those kinds of fighters, with that kind of resilience and durability, are the worst ones to face.”

“Really? Why do you say that?” Bhogtan asked, his curiosity growing.

Khabixan paused, his eyes fixed on the battle unfolding below. When he spoke, his voice was laden with fear.

“Because those kinds of fighters...” he paused dramatically, “seem to be immortal.”

A piercing scream escaped Bhaxmunt’s lips as he looked at his broken fingers. With a grimace of pain, he delivered a devastating kick to Thamuz’s chin, forcing him to stumble back.

Thamuz felt the impact but remained standing. He brought his fingers to his mouth and carefully pulled out a broken tooth. He looked at it with an expression of surprise.

“My teeth have never fallen out before,” he murmured, closing his fist around the fragment.

Without warning, with incredible speed and strength, Thamuz hurled the tooth like a deadly arrow. The projectile broke the sound barrier and pierced Bhaxmunt’s shoulder before he could react.

“Bastard!” Bhaxmunt howled, writhing in pain from the wound.

Thamuz lunged at him, intending to tackle him to the ground. But Bhaxmunt, despite his injury, reacted with surprising agility, kicking him and slamming Thamuz into the ground.

However, Thamuz immediately got up and managed to grab Bhaxmunt by the shoulders, immobilizing him.

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“Finally, I’ve got you,” Thamuz said, throwing his head back, preparing for a devastating headbutt.

Bhaxmunt knew what was coming, but his mobility was limited by the overwhelming strength of his opponent. In a last act of desperation, he put his forearm in the way, cushioning the impact.

Taking advantage of the opening, Bhaxmunt drove the fingers of his left arm into Thamuz’s ribs, forcing him to release his grip. He backed away, observing his shattered right arm, fingers broken, but still able to move.

Thamuz, relentless as a colossus, rose once again, steam emanating from his body. Seeing this, Bhaxmunt felt fear wash over him, closing his eyes as he was transported to a memory from the past.

Bhaxmunt recalled a moment that had marked him for life. When he was ten years old, his parents, practitioners of nilux, had gone to the war of the Seven Blood Moons. Weeks passed, and Bhaxmunt's parents had not returned. However, something unexpected and terrifying had happened in their absence. The war had spread to their territories, consuming everything in its path with fire and violence.

When Bhaxmunt returned home, he was met with a heartbreaking scene. His house had been destroyed, reduced to rubble. Everywhere he looked, there were corpses of people he knew: neighbors, Shamonak warriors he had seen in combat arenas, imperial soldiers, and more. But the worst came when he arrived at a specific place: there, in plain sight, lay the lifeless bodies of his own parents.

Next to them, a towering figure stood out. His skin was white as a star, his horns enormous, and his eyes blue. Apparently, this colossus had fought a fierce battle with Bhaxmunt's parents, as his body was covered in wounds.

Upon seeing the child, the colossus set aside the bodies and approached with threatening steps. But just then, a smaller figure intervened, stopping him.

“They're all dead, Tawnylon,” the figure said.

“I know, but look, there’s still a child left, Armesto,” Tawnylon replied, referring to Bhaxmunt.

Armesto, the smaller figure, approached the terrified Bhaxmunt, knelt before him, and looked directly into his eyes.

“This is just a nightmare, boy,” he said with a faint smile. “When you wake up, you’ll find nothing.”

Bhaxmunt tried to speak, but Armesto was faster. He pulled a mysterious powder from his pockets and blew it into the boy’s face, who fell asleep instantly.

“Take the child to an abandoned house,” Armesto ordered, heading towards the battle carriages waiting to take them back to the kingdom. “I couldn’t sleep if we left him to die.”

“Understood. I’ll keep him well hidden,” Tawnylon nodded, carefully lifting the boy into his arms.

The colossus walked toward a ruined house, kicking open the door. He climbed to the highest room and laid the boy on a bed, carefully hiding him. Before leaving, he gave him one last look and returned to Armesto.

However, when Bhaxmunt awoke, he found himself in a completely different place. He was in a carriage, being transported by someone familiar: his parents' master, who had miraculously survived the war. This man had taken Bhaxmunt in as his new pupil, taking him to the remote mountains to teach him the techniques of nilux.

Years later, during the fierce battle with Thamuz, his master’s words echoed in Bhaxmunt’s mind:

"In any situation, if your life is in danger, don’t hesitate to use everything at your disposal. Whether it’s a weapon or your own hands, use it to survive."

With renewed determination, Bhaxmunt opened his eyes and lunged at Thamuz. His opponent expected another stab, but was surprised when Bhaxmunt grabbed him by the waist.

The grip was effective, bringing Thamuz down. Bhaxmunt positioned himself on top and began punching him in the head, trying to knock him out. Thamuz shielded himself with his forearms and, using the strength of his torso, managed to lift Bhaxmunt enough to deliver a palm strike that sent him flying backward.

Bhaxmunt immediately got up and attacked Thamuz, who was still trying to rise. He delivered a kick to the back, digging his fingers into his enemy’s flesh. Thamuz responded by grabbing him by the neck and lifting him up.

Taking advantage of the situation, Bhaxmunt clung to Thamuz’s arm as if embracing it and began stabbing the arm with his toes. Thamuz felt the sharp pain and tried to shake him off, but Bhaxmunt held on and started biting Thamuz’s fingers ferociously.

Thamuz, feeling desperation grow inside him, slammed his arm against the ground with all his might. Bhaxmunt’s grip loosened, freeing him momentarily.

Gasping, Thamuz leaned back and sat on the ground, staring in horror at his bruised and lacerated arm. But his relief was short-lived as he saw Bhaxmunt crawling toward him with unshakable determination.

Both fighters struggled to stand, trembling from exhaustion and pain. They locked eyes as they moved toward the center of the arena, like two titans on the verge of collapse.

"Let’s end this," Thamuz said, his voice heavy with fatigue and resignation.

"I’m going to kill you," Bhaxmunt whispered, his eyes burning with a mix of hatred and determination.

They raised their palms and began exchanging frantic blows. Thamuz attacked slowly but with devastating power, while Bhaxmunt’s strikes, though weaker, rained down relentlessly on his rival.

Desperation overtook Bhaxmunt as he started stabbing Thamuz with his fingers, searching for vital points. Thamuz, feeling his life slipping away, gathered his last bit of strength for a final attack.

With a blood-curdling scream that echoed across the arena, Thamuz delivered one final, powerful blow straight to Bhaxmunt’s head. The impact was brutal, but Bhaxmunt, clinging to a thread of consciousness, saw an opportunity in his enemy’s unprotected chest.

"Heartshatter!" Bhaxmunt shouted, launching his fist with all the strength he had left.

The blow struck directly at Thamuz’s heart. The legendary Heartshatter technique began to take effect immediately. Thamuz felt his heart slow, his muscles loosen, and darkness creep into his vision.

"Finally, I’ve killed you!" Bhaxmunt exclaimed, relief and euphoria in his voice.

But fate had other plans. Before falling, Thamuz grabbed Bhaxmunt’s head with both hands. He rose one last time, locking eyes with his opponent. To Bhaxmunt’s horror, Thamuz’s eyes had turned completely black, like endless pits of darkness.

"Well, it seems you’re very strong, boy," Thamuz said, his voice transformed into an eerie echo that chilled the blood. "But I can’t let someone with this potential die just like that. I hope you can understand me in the next life."

"Wait..." Bhaxmunt’s words were abruptly cut off as an abyssal pressure began crushing his skull. Thamuz, or whatever was controlling him now, exerted supernatural force on his head.

Desperate, Bhaxmunt tried to counterattack, frantically stabbing Thamuz’s chest with his fingers. But his enemy’s muscles had turned to steel, and Bhaxmunt’s fingers snapped one after the other. Still, driven by a primal survival instinct, he continued attacking until his hands were completely destroyed.

With one final, heart-wrenching scream that echoed through the arena, Bhaxmunt’s head gave way under the supernatural pressure. A red cloud of blood and bone fragments dispersed into the air, completely covering Thamuz.

Thamuz’s body, still standing, lifted its gaze toward the sky, which was beginning to darken.

"It’s almost night. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the stars," said the spectral voice emanating from Thamuz, with an almost nostalgic tone that macabrely contrasted with the bloody scene.

However, the entity controlling Thamuz felt its strength fading. Thamuz’s heart, stopped by Bhaxmunt’s Heartshatter, threatened to leave it without a vessel. In a desperate act, the entity made Thamuz drive his own hand into his chest, grabbing the inert heart and applying supernatural pressure until it began to beat again.

"It’s alright, boy," the dark voice murmured, as if speaking to Thamuz. "I’ll give you more help later because you’ll need it. For now, just enjoy your victory."

Thamuz’s body extended its arms and collapsed backward, lifeless on the blood-soaked arena. For a moment, silence reigned over the arena, broken only by the distant echo of a voice announcing:

"The winner is Thamuz!"