The corridor beyond the hospital's sliding doors felt colder than any winter morning Jessy had ever known.
His soaked clothes clung to his skin as he followed the stern-faced guard through a maze of unlabeled hallways.
The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed, casting harsh white beams onto bare concrete walls.
Almost instinctively, he rubbed at his sore ribs, memories of yesterday's fight with Thomas still fresh, but now overshadowed by something far more dangerous, the trial for Lazordy Akula's bodyguard position.
Jessy's heart hammered in his chest. Every step felt like an internal countdown.
At last, they emerged into a wide, windowless room. Matte-gray walls formed a semicircle around a raised platform where A guy was standing.
Broad-shouldered, buzz-cut, and scarred by both time and combat.
His eyes were hawkish, cold, and unintimidated by the twenty young hopefuls sprawled on folding chairs in the gallery above.
Jessy climbed a short flight of metal steps, taking a seat in the back where he could see everyone.
That guy cleared his throat. Silence fell like a guillotine's blade.
"Welcome," he said. "I am Instructor Voss. You've all answered Akula's call for protection, but tonight you're not here to guard him. You're here to prove you aren't a liability."
He paused for a second.
" If I had it my way, half of you wouldn't even make it to sit here. But I'll disappoint you fairly."
Jessy's stomach twisted.
"By sunrise, ten of you will be cut," Voss continued.
"The first trial: hand-to-hand combat. No weapons. No armor. You'll fight one-on-one, to submission or knockout. Win, or do something impressive enough to earn my interest."
As murmurs rippled through the room, Jessy gripped the edge of his chair.
He swallowed, forcing himself to breathe slowly. He had never fought like this before!
In the dingy streets near the fish market, he'd dodged insults and flailing fists, but never in a ring designed for culling the weak.
A red digital clock on the wall clicked down the minutes until the first match. Voss barked out names like drill commands: "Jessy Grey. Marco Silva. Step forward."
Jessy felt the sting of every stare; these rogue glances reminded him of the gazes of his school classmates, which branded him nickname he'd long tried to bury.
He climbed onto the platform, shoulders hunched, muscles tensing.
Across from him, Marco Silva bounced on the balls of his feet, a tall, broad-shouldered man who reeked of confidence. His jeans were snug over muscled thighs; his biceps bulged under a tight black T-shirt.
When he saw Jessy, he cracked a smile like a predator spotting wounded prey.
"What's this? The school rat? Lost your lunch money again?" Marco's voice cut through the tension as he shoved Jessy's shoulder.
Jessy blinked, summoning calm. Remembering Jina's pale face in the hospital bed, Lora's disappointed stare.
he let anger ignite something rehearsed but real. He squared his shoulders.
"Just don't blink," Jessy murmured to himself, steeling his resolve.
TING!
Bell rings.
Marco lunged first, a flurry of jabs targeting Jessy's head and torso.
Jessy ducked and rolled to the side, memories of his grandfather's warning echoing: "When you're cornered, think."
He sidestepped another wild punch and seized the moment to jab at Marco's chest.
The blow drove him backward. A gasp rippled through the gallery.
But Marco's grin only widened. He slashed with an elbow that clipped Jessy's cheekbone, snapping his head to the side.
BOOM!
Pain bloomed like wildfire.
The crowd tensed.
Jessy staggered but refused to fall.
He remembered something from his biology class…
Thomas, as a spoiled kid, used to interrupt teachers. He once mentioned something as sarcasm, but I wonder if it will work: "Hit the solar plexus right, and they'll grunt, but hit the floating ribs under it, and they'll fold."
He'd studied that logic in a fraction of a second.
'Let's give it a try!'
Marco advanced, muscles rippling.
Jessy ducked low, careful not to overextend. He feinted a right hook.
Marco flinched, giving Jessy an opening!
Taking this opportunity, he drove his elbow upward into the underside of Marco's right rib cage.
CRACK!
The sickening crack sent a grunt through Marco's lips.
Marco stumbled.
Seizing the opening, Jessy switched to his left hand and delivered a sharp punch to Marco's jaw.
Blood spurted where Marco bit his tongue. The audience fell silent; disbelief hung heavy in the air.
Jessy's breathing was ragged, sweat stinging his eyes.
Marco dropped to one knee and snarled.
He wasn't done yet!
He lunged, reckless with rage, but Marco became significantly slower though.
Jessy pivoted on his heel, used his momentum to slide behind Marco's back.
In one fluid motion, he wrapped an arm around Marco's neck, locking his own elbow against Marco's throat an improvised rear choke.
Marco's eyes bulged in panic as veins popped on his forehead.
His arms slapped at Jessy's forearm, desperate for escape.
Jessy felt the floor beneath Marco's weight shift.
Pain carved its lines across Jessy's mind, but he pushed through. He tightened the choke until Marco's body sagged.
The referee shouted, stepping forward as Marco tapped Jessy's arm once, twice. Then he collapsed, limp.
TING!
Bell rings.
Silence shattered like glass. Jessy released Marco, pulling away.
Marco laid down, gasping, blood pooling beneath him.
Some fighters would have stomped off in victory, but Jessy merely stood, chest rising and falling wildly, his knuckles sore and skin slick with sweat and blood.
Voss descended from the platform, nodding once. No praise, but not disdain either.
"Grey. You stay." Voss's voice was a low rumble.
"Everyone else, back to your chairs!"
Jessy climbed down, staggering slightly at the weight of the crowd's astonishment.
On the gallery steps, Tessa's green eyes met his for a moment, no smile, only a flicker of recognition. He wiped a tremor from his lips and limped toward his seat.
Late that night, Instructor Voss paced before a digital board, flexing a stylus against his palm.
"Only ten of you will move on," he announced. "Names on this board"
He tapped the screen. A list of ten names appeared. Jessy wasn't among them.
"If your name is here," Voss continued, "report to the next area. Everyone else….thanks for dropping by."
Jessy's breath caught. He stared at the bright letters, blinking rapidly, as if the names would shift to include his if he concentrated hard enough.
But they didn't.
He felt the heat rising in his ears.
The world narrowed to that glaring list. Every promise he'd made to Jina, to himself, teetered on the brink of collapse.
Voices from the gallery had told him Tessa was Akula's niece.
For a fleeting second, Jessy wondered if he had been disqualified from continuing because of their encounter earlier.
As doubt tightened around his chest, Voss's cold baritone cut through the panic.
"Grey."
All eyes snapped to him. His heart plummeted.
"You're NOT on the list…I think you know why."
Said Instructor Voss
"Oh, I was just leaving now…"
"It's because Akula wants to see you personally." Voss Continued. With a calm smile on his face.
'This dude can smile? Wait did he just …' Thought Jessy with a puzzled look on his face.