The underground arena buzzed with anticipation, the air thick with tension and the stench of sweat and blood. Fighters who had emerged victorious in the second round sat in various corners of the fighter's lounge, nursing wounds, sharpening their focus, and preparing for the upcoming battles. Among them were Rohan and Aryan, known by their arena aliases—Ghost and Spade.

Seated in a dimly lit booth away from prying eyes, the two friends exchanged glances before Rohan leaned in, his voice low. "Man, that last fight was brutal. I barely got out of it without serious injuries. Dagger Fang was no joke."

Aryan nodded, his fingers unconsciously tracing the bruises along his forearm. "Serpent Fist was tricky, too. His movements were unpredictable, like fighting a damn snake. If I hadn’t figured out his rhythm, I would’ve been done for."

Rohan smirked. "Well, we’re both still standing. That’s what matters. But the next round… it’s going to be even worse. These guys left are the real monsters."

Aryan exhaled sharply, resting his arms on the table. "Who do you think is the biggest threat?"

Rohan leaned back, glancing across the room where the remaining winners gathered. Iron Jaw was sitting calmly, his thick, muscular frame imposing even in rest. The Berserker shadowboxed in a corner, eyes burning with an uncontrollable hunger for battle. Luca The Phantom sat with an eerie stillness, unreadable. And then there was Reaper X, standing by himself, his presence like an unsharpened blade—quiet but deadly.

"Reaper X is dangerous," Rohan admitted. "The way he dismantled Howler, it wasn’t just brute force. It was precision. Calculated. He never made an unnecessary move. That kind of efficiency in a fight is terrifying."

Aryan agreed. "Yeah, but Berserker is different. He doesn’t care about pain or fatigue. He just keeps going until he breaks you. That’s a whole different kind of nightmare."

Before they could discuss further, a loud voice echoed through the hall. The host, a well-dressed man with a devilish grin, stepped onto the platform at the center of the lounge. He held a microphone in one hand and a stack of papers in the other.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" His voice boomed across the arena. "What a hell of a second round we had! But now, it’s time to move on to the next phase—the semi-finals! Six fighters remain, and after this round, we’ll be down to the final three!" The crowd watching from the screens roared in excitement.

He paused dramatically before continuing. "Now, let’s reveal our matchups!"

A large screen flickered to life behind him, displaying the upcoming battles.

Round 3 Matchups:

🥊 Match 1: Aryan (Spade) vs. Iron Jaw 🥊 Match 2: Rohan (Ghost) vs. The Berserker 🥊 Match 3: Luca The Phantom vs. Reaper X

The crowd erupted in murmurs and cheers as the matchups were finalized.

Rohan and Aryan exchanged a glance. "Iron Jaw, huh?" Aryan muttered. "His chin is like a damn fortress. I’m going to have to find a way around that."

Rohan cracked his knuckles, rolling his shoulders. "And I’m up against a guy who doesn’t stop swinging. If I take even a second to breathe, he’ll break every bone in my body."

Aryan smirked. "Guess we don’t have a choice but to win."

Rohan grinned back. "Damn right."

The fighters dispersed, each one mentally preparing for the battles ahead. The real war was just beginning.