7. All Of It

The first fight set the tone for the night – brutal, unrelenting, and savage. My opponent, a burly man with a scarred face, came at me with ferocity. But I was faster, my moves honed by countless nights in the ring. The sound of our fists colliding was like thunder, a symphony of violence that drowned out the cheers of the crowd.

"You call that a hit?" I taunted, my voice laced with contempt as I dodged his clumsy punch and countered with a swift jab to his jaw. The crack of bone was audible, a satisfying confirmation of my dominance.

Blood splattered on the mat, drops flying with each strike I landed. His blood, my blood, it didn't matter. It was all part of the dance, the deadly ballet we performed under the flickering lights.

The second fight was more challenging. My competition was younger, quicker, but he lacked experience. I exploited every opening, my attacks precise and cruel.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" I shouted, my words dripping with scorn as I landed a brut