Chapter 197

The cold, unforgiving lights of the underground ring buzzed overhead, casting eerie shadows across the gritty, sweat-stained floor.

Alex could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the rapid thump echoing in his ears like the drumming of war. The crowd around him was a seething mass of bodies, their faces hidden in the gloom, save for the occasional flicker of hungry eyes or the gleam of a twisted smile. They were here for blood, and Alex could sense it—a collective thirst that hung in the air like a thick, poisonous fog.

"First time?" The man in the leather jacket, who had introduced himself as Mike, asked as he handed Alex a pair of worn-out gloves. They smelled of sweat and fear, the leather cracked from years of abuse.

Alex nodded, his mouth dry as sandpaper. "Yeah," he croaked, barely able to get the word out. He glanced around the dingy room, his eyes taking in the faded posters of past fights plastered on the walls, the broken bottles littering the floor, and the graffiti that