CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

RICHARD'S POV

The air was thick with tension as Alex and I faced off, the crowd's anticipation palpable. I could hear the murmurs of the onlookers, the whispered bets and the rustle of excitement. Alex smirked, his confidence evident. I could see why; he was a formidable opponent, and the club members clearly favored him.

"Ready to lose, Richard?" Alex taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance.

"Let's see who loses," I shot back, trying to mask my nerves with bravado.

The referee called for us to begin. We began, and immediately, Alex took the upper hand. Alexander lunged first, his attack was sudden but predictable. I parried easily, our foils clashing with a sharp clang.

His movements were swift, precise, leaving little room for me to counter. The crowd erupted in cheers for him and boos for me, their support a wave crashing against my resolve.

"Come on, Richard! Don't make it so easy for him!" someone shouted, followed by mocking laughter.

I gritted my teeth, focusing on Ale
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