CHAPTER 35
The silence was profound, broken only by the distant hiss of the vents and the restless shifting of the crowd. The ground was slick from a recent dampening, reflecting the yellow-white lights like polished steel. Two figures stood facing each other in the center, starkly isolated by the vast, empty concrete.
Ryle Kain stood tall, completely composed. He wore only black fighting shorts and his signature black hand wraps. He was relaxed, radiating effortless power, his eyes sweeping the audience with casual contempt before settling on his opponent. He wasn’t preparing for a fight; he was preparing for a display.
Lauren Lowe was a study in rigid defiance. She wore the same minimalist gear: compression vest, dark shorts, and her hand wraps. Her posture was stiff, her gaze fixed e
