The beggar led Rohan to a man standing near the back alley.
"Brother," the beggar said quietly, "this boy has no money, but he desperately needs it. He's ready to do anything."
The man looked Rohan up and down and scoffed.
"You're just a kid. You won't survive this." "You'll get yourself killed."
Rohan replied calmly, "If I do nothing... I'll die anyway."
The man burst into laughter.
"Kid, I like your answer. But listen carefully-once you go there, you only come back in two ways. Either with money... or as a corpse."
He paused, then turned around. "Come with me. I'll take you to the chairman of the fighting arena. He'll tell you how you can participate without money."
Rohan glanced at the beggar, then nodded. "I agree. Let's go."
---
They traveled outside the city, toward an old, crumbling ruin.
"You're lucky," the man said while walking. "Today's Wednesday. Otherwise, you'd have to wait another week."
He smirked. "We have seven or eight ruins like this. Every week, we change locations. VIPs come here. Rich people. They place bets... and sometimes even send their own fighters into the arena."
They stopped outside a room-there was no door, only a torn curtain.
"Chairman," the man called out, "it's Sunil. May I come in?"
A voice answered from inside. "Come in."
The beggar, Rohan, and Sunil entered.
Inside, a fat man sat on a chair, a cigarette burning between his fingers.
He exhaled smoke slowly. "Speak, Sunil. Why are you here?"
Sunil folded his hands slightly. "Brother, this boy needs money badly. But he has none."
The chairman's eyes slowly shifted toward Rohan.
"Kid," he said coldly, "I'll assume you're willing to fight. But tell me-can you kill someone?"
He leaned forward. "Because fighting isn't enough here. Here... you have to kill."
Rohan answered without hesitation, "I'll try. Just give me a chance to fight. I only have ten days. Today is the first day. I need money."
The chairman chuckled. "Then you'll have to put your body parts on the line. Do you accept that?"
The beggar stiffened and looked at Rohan.
Rohan didn't even blink. "Deal."
The beggar, Sunil, and the chairman all froze.
What kind of child was this-afraid of nothing?
His expression didn't change at all. Like a living corpse.
(Rohan had already become emotionless.)
The chairman leaned back. "Whatever you put on the line-if you win, you get its value. If you lose, you die. Still acceptable?"
"Yes," Rohan replied.
The chairman began listing prices.
"Eyes-six lakh for both. You can bet even one." "Kidneys-twenty lakh each. You can bet both."
He laughed. "But then how will you survive?"
Rohan interrupted calmly, "These are small stakes. I'll put my entire body on the line. Tell me how much I'll get."
Silence.
Sunil whispered to the beggar, "Either he's insanely confident... or he's a fool who came here to die."
The chairman burst into laughter. "Fine. I'll give you fifty crores if you win."
His smile turned cruel. "But you won't."
"Prepare yourself. You'll fight five men. Defeat all five-and the fifty crores are yours."
The chairman stood up. "I'm going to the stage. When I call you, come."
Rohan nodded.
The chairman left.
---
The underground arena slowly filled with noise.
Cigarette smoke floated through the air. Hands counted cash. Red eyes burned with a single hunger- the hunger to see blood.
Then-
The lights flickered.
A powerful spotlight ignited at the center of the arena. The noise slowly faded into silence.
A heavy man walked onto the stage. Gold rings on thick fingers. A burning cigarette between his lips.
The chairman.
He picked up the mic. A faint crackle echoed through the speakers.
"Ladies and gentlemen..."
His voice was calm, as if corpses falling here was routine.
"Tonight... something different will happen."
The crowd leaned forward.
"No professional fighter." "No bodyguard." "No trained killer."
A pause.
"Tonight, a young boy has come here... and no one knows anything about him."
Laughter erupted. Whistles. Mockery. Applause.
The chairman raised his hand-silence returned.
"This boy has no money." "No backing." "And no guarantee... that he'll survive."
He exhaled smoke.
"But what he has done..." "No one in this arena has ever done before."
The spotlight shifted.
From the darkness, a slender figure stepped forward. Standing straight. No fear in his eyes. No emotion on his face.
"This boy..." "Has put himself on the line."
The arena fell completely silent.
"If he wins-" "The money is his."
The chairman's voice turned cold.
"If he loses-" "The corpse is ours."
The crowd's faces lit up.
"This boy knows..." "That fighting isn't enough here."
The chairman stomped the stage. "You must kill to win."
He pointed at Rohan. "So tell me-" "Will this child survive?"
The crowd exploded.
Screams. Cheers. Betting cries.
And amidst all that- Rohan stood completely calm.
As if this was just another test.
The chairman announced, "His first fight... will be against-"
"Knuckle Reaper."
---
Knuckle Reaper's punches were so fast that an ordinary human couldn't even blink in time.
People said you heard the sound first- and then the body hit the ground.
In terms of power, he didn't just break bones- he could bend iron beams.
Face. Ribs. Jaw. For him, everything was just a target.
The lights dimmed.
The crowd fell silent- then erupted.
"KNUCKLE REAPER!"
A heavy-built man entered the cage. Knuckles wrapped. Shoulders loose. Neck stiff.
Every punch carried pressure through the air.
The commentator screamed, "Watching his punches isn't hard-surviving them is!"
From the opposite side- Rohan entered the cage.
No pose. No aggression. Just calm, empty eyes.
The crowd laughed. "This kid?" "Does he even know boxing?"
Knuckle Reaper smirked. "One punch. That's all."
BELL RINGS.
The fight begins.
Knuckle Reaper charges forward. Rapid jabs. Left. Right. Left-right-right.
Punches so fast that normal fighters couldn't even react.
But Rohan didn't retreat.
He watched. Every shoulder twitch. Every hip movement. Every breath.
Boom.
A heavy right hook toward Rohan's head- but it cuts through empty air.
Rohan slips half an inch.
The crowd gasps.
"WHAT?! FIRST COUNTER?!"
Knuckle Reaper frowns.
He increases power. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
A storm of combinations.
Then-
Rohan moves.
Slip. Duck. Pivot.
Straight counter jab.
THUD.
The first clean hit lands. Knuckle Reaper's head snaps back.
Silence.
The commentator shouts, "WAIT-THAT WAS A COUNTER?! BOXING VS COUNTER-BOXING!"
Knuckle Reaper loses control. Now he's not punching-he's trying to kill.
Overhand right. Uppercut. Body hook.
Every punch lethal.
But Rohan makes every punch miss. And answers each opening with a single strike.
No wasted movement. No excess.
THUD - Nose. THUD - Ribs. THUD - Jaw.
Rohan moves like a machine.
Knuckle Reaper's breathing turns heavy. "This is impossible..." "This kid's reactions-"
BREAKING POINT.
Knuckle Reaper gathers all his power.
"DIE!"
A full-power straight- a punch that could break iron.
Rohan steps inside.
The punch misses by inches.
And in that single second-
COUNTER RIGHT STRAIGHT. Straight to the jaw.
CRACK.
The sound echoes through the arena.
Knuckle Reaper's feet leave the ground. His body crashes backward- like a switch turned off.
THUD.
Silence.
---
The referee rushes in. The count begins.
"One... two... three..."
No movement.
The doctor checks him- his hands trembling.
"He's... dead."
The chairman stands. Fear appears in his eyes-for the first time.
The commentator whispers, "That wasn't boxing." "That was execution."
Rohan stands quietly in the corner.
No celebration. No emotion.
He speaks only one word.
"Next."
The arena explodes.
Screams. Whistles. Applause so loud it feels like the old ruin itself might collapse.
But amid all that noise-
Rohan stands calm.
No joy of victory. No bloodlust.
Only a cold certainty.
This was just the beginning.