𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.
It's the beginning of a new age when Jaylah Imperatrix seemingly returns from the dead to reclaim her throne. And in perfect timing.
In her absence, evil has be...
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Act 1 Chapter 65 JAYLAH
The entire establishment reeked of smoke, but Jaylah barely noticed her difficulty to breathe due to her concentration on the men beating each other in the center of the crowd. Her wholehearted attention, like everyone else's, was fixated upon guessing the victor. Though she had not placed any bets, she expected it would be the fighter with geometric tattoos crawling from his bare chest down the lengths of his corded arms. He had won four previous fights, placing him in competition for a spot in the final round. While he had the brute strength lent from his bulky build, he was also frighteningly fast, which would inevitably end in the other man's brutal loss.
From the back of the underground chamber, Jaylah watched over the chanting onlookers' heads as he readied for a blow that would knock out his opponent—the only manner to win. Jaylah counted down in her head. Three...two...one.
There was an awful crack as the tattooed fighter rammed his fist into his opponent's jaw, effectively dislocating it. The loser crumpled solidly to the floor like a bag of rocks. He did not rise.
Cheers rose. Jaylah was the only motionless person in the crowd, calmly watching as the winner raised his fist in victory. She had been correct; he would compete in the final round for five hundred notes of money. He was also at a disadvantage, unbeknownst to him, for she was watching every heavy strike he was dealt, rooting out any sign of pain he masked. His lip and brow were both split, but the most significant imperfection was the redness blooming just under his right elbow. His last opponent had drilled his knuckles in as they both tumbled to the ground. It was his weakness.
As the unconscious man was pulled from the bloodstained floor, the crowd began to chant for the tattooed fighter's final opponent to be let into the ring once more. This was the night's crescendo of excitement.
All the people in the place whipped around to watch the side door be dramatically whisked open. Out of it strode Alexander Khan, adorned with a mask of frightening detachment. Ordinarily, he would have been overjoyed by a scene like this. But the events of late had deeply altered him. A scowl marred his features in lieu of his usual arrogant smile and the darkness around his dead eyes only intensified it.
As he took his place at one end of the ring, stoic against the jeers of the crowd, Jaylah placed her bet on him. Having seen the decimation the tattooed man was capable of, the others' bets weighed heavily against Alexander.
But Alexander won all his prior matches as well. Jaylah knew he would win this time too, because he gave himself no other option.
In a place so lowly, there was no official overseer. The fight began as soon as Alexander stepped within the ring. It was worrying how he did not meet his opponent's gaze. The tattooed man came to him, meaty fists swinging. Jaylah's breath caught in her throat.
