Several hours and countless brutal fights passed after Delila’s opening match. By the time the announcer called the next name, the crowd was restless—hungry for something darker, something decisive. It was finally Leroy’s turn. He stepped forward with steady confidence, shoulders loose, breath controlled. In the time since the trials, he had trained relentlessly—body hardened through discipline, mind sharpened through understanding. He wasn’t just stronger now. He was clearer. As he reached the platform, his interface flickered to life. Level: 1 Rank: 1 Vitality: 150 / 150 Energy: 140 / 140 Strength: 14 Agility: 15 Intelligence: 15 Perception: 12Skills:Dash Level: 4Cannon Blast: 5 Leroy glanced over the numbers once, then dismissed them. What I’ve noticed about the chip, he thought, is that growth isn’t equal. A mission completed meant a level gained—but that only tracked experience, not strength. Rank existed solely to compare stat gaps between people who had survi

The lights dimmed across the arena one final time, the roar of the crowd slowly settling into a restless hum. Holograms that had once blazed with stats and kill projections faded into soft blue embers above the shattered platforms. The opening fights were over, and everyone in the Blood Circuit could feel it. Not relief exactly—more like the sharp inhale before the next plunge.The announcer descended from above, boots touching down at the center platform with practiced ease. His voice boomed across the stadium, rich with satisfaction.“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! THAT CONCLUDES THE OPENING FIGHTS OF THE GROUP STAGES!”Cheers erupted, rolling through the stands like a tidal wave.“You’ve witnessed power, speed, strategy, and survival! But don’t get too comfortable—this was only the beginning.” He raised one finger. “In two days, the remainder of the group stages will commence! The rankings will shift. The pressure will rise. And only those who adapt will move forward!”The crowd roared agai

The arena barely had time to breathe after Axel’s loss before the lights shifted again.The announcer’s voice cut through the lingering noise, smooth and merciless.“NEXT MATCH!”The crowd surged forward in anticipation, some still arguing about the last result, others already placing new bets. Losses were forgotten quickly in the Blood Circuit. Only the next fight mattered.“ON THIS SIDE—KAYA VEYRA!”A wave of cheers rolled through the stadium as Kaya stepped onto the platform. Her posture was steady, jaw set, eyes sharp. She didn’t glance at the stands. She didn’t look back at Shawn’s group. She kept her focus forward, where the platform waited to swallow her whole.“And HER OPPONENT—TONY LOPEZ!”Tony emerged with a lazy swagger, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. He looked almost casual, like he’d wandered into the wrong building by accident. A thin mask rested around his neck, unused for now. His eyes flicked over Kaya once, appraising, then he smiled faintly.The barriers

They all knew it had to happen eventually.The way the brackets were set up, every fighter in a group would face every other. It was math. Inevitable. Still, when the match announcement flashed across the giant screens, it hit harder than any punch.YOHAN VLADversusDELILA HARTThe stadium reacted instantly. A wave of noise rolled through the stands, half excitement, half disbelief. People loved rivalries. They loved grudges. But this was different. These two had walked into the tournament side by side.Now they had to walk onto the stage against each other.Down in the waiting area, the group went quiet.Kaya whistled low. “Well… that’s going to be rough.”Axel let out a dry laugh. “For whoever underestimates the other, yeah.”Jax glanced at them, then at the screen, then away. “They both need the points.”LeRoy folded his arms, watching Yohan and Delila stand up almost at the same time.Delila exhaled, slow and controlled, then tied her hair back. “Guess this is it,” she said, half

The arena lights rose slowly, almost cautiously, as if the stadium itself had learned something from the last match.There was no playful energy this time. No dramatic build-up.The Blood Circuit had just witnessed domination.Now it wanted unpredictability.The announcer’s voice echoed across the stands.“Up next — a clash of calculation and deception.”A pause.“Leroy Annan!”A wave of cheers rolled through the crowd. Leroy stepped forward from the tunnel, calm, shoulders relaxed, eyes sharp. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t tense either. He looked… prepared.“And his opponent… a man known for bending perception itself. Some call him a magician. Others call him a menace. Give it up for—Kwame the Trickster!”The reaction was mixed — curious, amused, wary.Kwame emerged with a loose grin, dark braids pulled back, coat swaying slightly as he walked. His eyes scanned the arena like he was studying a crowd rather than stepping into a fight.He winked toward one section of the stands.Leroy d