The crowd exploded.

People were screaming, jumping, throwing their betting slips in the air. Bookies were shouting into their comms. Big T was on his feet, staring with open disbelief.

But Jayden wasn’t celebrating.

He backed away, creating distance, and watched.

Because Tombstone was already getting up.

The big man rolled onto his hands and knees, shook his head like a dog clearing water, and climbed to his feet. Blood dripped from his nose. His lip was split. But he was smiling.

"Okay," Tombstone said, wiping blood from his mouth. "Okay, kid. I see you. You’re strong." His smile widened. "But I’m stronger."

He charged again, but this time with more respect. More caution.

The two fighters met in the center of the cage like two trains colliding.

Tombstone threw a devastating overhand right. Jayden slipped inside, drove an elbow into Tombstone’s ribs. Tombstone grabbed Jayden’s arm, tried to throw him—Jayden twisted, used the momentum to deliver a spinning back fist that cracked across Tombstone’s jaw.

The big man absorbed it, countered with a knee that Jayden barely blocked in time. The impact lifted Jayden off his feet and sent him sliding backward across the canvas.

Tombstone pressed the advantage, closing distance with surprising speed. He grabbed for Jayden—if those massive hands got a grip, the fight was over.

Jayden ducked under the grasp, drove a punch into Tombstone’s kidney, then another to his floating ribs. Each impact made Tombstone grunt, but the man barely slowed. Then...

Whack!

A massive backhand caught Jayden across the face. Stars exploded in his vision. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

The crowd roared.

Tombstone followed with a straight punch that Jayden barely rolled away from. The fist passed inches from his face and dented the chain-link fence behind him. Metal groaned. Links popped.

That blow could have killed a normal person.

But Jayden wasn’t even a normal person.

He’d been testing Tombstone’s strength since the fight started. Gauging it. Measuring it against his own.

And the conclusion was clear: in pure physical strength, Jayden was stronger.

His Lycan bloodline, and acquired enhanced strength ability, gave him raw power that exceeded even Tombstone’s Level 50 super-strength.

Tombstone was strong. But Jayden was stronger.

So why was this fight still close?

Because Tombstone had something Jayden was still developing: Technique. Experience. Ring craft.

The big man knew how to use his size, his reach, his weight. He knew angles, timing, how to cut off the cage and corner an opponent. He’d been doing this for years, maybe decades.

Jayden had raw power. But Tombstone was a professional. Which meant Jayden needed to be smarter.

He shifted his strategy.

Instead of trading blows, he started moving. Using footwork. Creating angles. Making Tombstone chase him.

The big man adjusted, cutting off the cage, trying to corner him. But every time Tombstone committed to an attack, Jayden would counter—then deliver precise strikes to weak points, targeting the ribs, the liver, and the knees.

None of the strikes were enough to drop Tombstone. But they were accumulating.

The big man’s breathing was getting heavier. His movements slightly slower. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth.

Tombstone realized what was happening—he was being outworked, out-maneuvered by someone half his size.

And he didn’t like it.

"Stand still!" Tombstone roared, charging like an enraged bull.

Jayden waited until the last possible second, then sidestepped. Tombstone’s momentum carried him into the fence—the entire cage shook from the impact.

Before Tombstone could recover, Jayden was on him. A brutal combination to the back—kidney shots, spine strikes, a hammer fist to the back of the neck.

Tombstone spun, arms windmilling, trying to catch Jayden. But Jayden ducked under the wild swings, stepped inside Tombstone’s guard, and delivered a perfect liver shot.

Tombstone’s entire body seized. His legs went weak. He dropped to one knee.

The crowd was on their feet, screaming.

Big T was standing at the edge of his VIP box, eyes locked on the cage.

Jayden backed away, giving Tombstone space. The referee started counting.

"ONE! TWO! THREE!"

Tombstone tried to stand, his face a mask of pain and stubborn determination.

"FOUR! FIVE!"

He made it to one knee, then planted his foot.

"SIX! SEVEN!"

With a roar of pure willpower, Tombstone surged to his feet.

The crowd exploded with noise—half cheering for Tombstone’s resilience, half amazed that the fight was still going.

Jayden studied his opponent. Tombstone was hurt—badly—but refusing to go down.

"Tough bastard," Jayden thought with grudging respect.

But respect wouldn’t save Cassandra.

Time to end this.

Tombstone charged one more time—desperation and pride fueling his movement. His fist came at Jayden’s head with everything he had left.

Jayden didn’t dodge.

Instead, he stepped into the punch, caught Tombstone’s wrist with both hands, and twisted.

Tombstone’s momentum worked against him. His arm twisted at an unnatural angle—not broken, but hyperextended—and his balance broke completely.

Jayden used that moment. He dropped low, swept Tombstone’s legs, and as the giant fell, Jayden’s fist came up in a devastating uppercut that caught Tombstone perfectly under the jaw.

The impact was like a gunshot.

Tombstone’s head snapped back. His eyes rolled. His massive body went completely limp.

He hit the canvas like a felled tree.

The referee didn’t even count. He immediately waved his arms, signaling the end.

"IT’S OVER! KNOCKOUT!"

For a heartbeat, the arena was silent.

Then the crowd erupted.

Screaming. Shouting. Chairs rattling. People throwing their arms up in disbelief and jubilation. Money changing hands as bookies frantically recalculated odds.

Jayden stood over Tombstone’s unconscious form, breathing hard, his body aching but victorious.

The referee grabbed his wrist and raised it high.

"WINNER!"

The crowd’s roar intensified.

In the VIP section, Big T was laughing—deep, genuine, and impressed. He said something to his lieutenants, who all nodded enthusiastically, then raised his bourbon glass toward Jayden in acknowledgment.

Jayden pulled his hand free from the referee, rolled his shoulders, and walked toward the cage door.

Marcus was there, holding it open, his expression a mix of shock and grudging respect.

"Damn, kid, I can’t believe you actually won." Marcus said quietly as Jayden passed. "You really are stronger than you look."

Jayden’s expression remained indifferent. "Take me to Big T," he said flatly. "I want my reward."