> My name is Klay, Klay Randolph. Since I was young I could tell my brain operated differently from others. Dopamine is what I needed to survive: swinging faster than others on the swing, jumping out of 2 story buildings, grab-and-run petty thefts, you name it, I might've done it all in my youth.
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> But what grabbed my attention fully from then was the idea of mixed martial arts. Two men fighting with everything they got, basically legalized street fights.
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> "What could be cooler than that?" - thought my braindead past self
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> Well, EVERYTHING, you dumb f##k! Now my life is in ruin because of you! I thought I'd be great if I climbed to the peak of this unsurpassable mountain of martial arts, but all it brought me was despair.
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> I should not have believed in myself back then, I had given everything I had. I slept in the gym for years just to have a chance at cracking through to the UFC, the greatest MMA fighting organisation on the planet.
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> All I had to do was win one fight, but I was knocked out within seconds...
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> Even after that, I kept my grit, losing often and winning even less, I thought I had what it takes to climb to the top, but all I met were unscratchable monsters laid before my path.
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> Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
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> I kept falling and falling out of grace, until falling on the concrete floor of this illegal fighting arena in my town.
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> I wonder how Angie's doing, and also my little Georgie... Ah man, I'll miss them.
These were the final thoughts of Karl, he had taken up a fight in an underground organisation in London against another rising phenom in the fighting world. - Oliver "Killa" Bharath of Moroccan descent, 22 years of age and an 8-0 record.
The truth is nobody knew why this young man decided to fight an opponent so beyond him like our man Klay, standing at 31 years of age with a 16-15-1 record, a fallen veteran, but they fought.
But to expect, this was a bloodbath in the underground scene, Khan was battered unconscious into a bloody pulp by a very enraged Oliver, an outcome that certainly animated the overseeing crowd, growing richer from their bets on the younger fighter.
And there he lay until the worker men dispatched his body, alone and forgotten.
That was until Oliver began to regain his senses, his blood boiled and slowly but surely light enveloped his eyes. Klay awoke.
Laid in a multitude and clash of emotions Klay noticed that where he stood was his old room, back when he was living with his mother, the same mother that had died at the hands of illegal loan sharks.
Once he came to that realisation, Klay cried. He sobbed for the first time in his memory, this man had a very linear and old-fashioned mindset. After what he's been through he had put in his head that only women and children were allowed to cry.
He took a good look at his past self through the cracked mirror in his room. At his rejuvenated features. No more cauliflower ears, scars across his cheek or busted lips, like he was intact. His dark brown hair appeared somehow more lively, his hazel eyes brighter, it's hard to explain.
Sobbing and paralysed in thoughts and confusion all he could do was reassess his mind.
> Maybe God is in fact real? I don't know anymore...
There was much he did not know, but some he did. He did realise that this was a God-given second chance. An opportunity to do better, to make more of his time on earth. Be it a second chance to take his martial arts career to another level or finally live a life he deserved, he had to do something.
He accessed and reaccessed in his mind, but his inbuilt feelings would not let him tear connections with his double-edged passion for this world. He had to figure out a way to soar to the pinnacle of the UFC and become the best martial artist on the planet.